Day 30: Don’t Remind Me

I am going to come out and say it:  I hate TV.  They complain about people and companies making money out of tragedies when they have spent the last 14 years milking the single, biggest massacre of people ever perpetrated on American soil.  And I for one have a simple message for all TV stations:  don’t remind me.

Let me tell you what I remember about that day.  It was a beautiful day in New York.  It was the contrast of what a beautiful day it was against the backdrop of the devastation that always stuck in my head.  It was a perfect blue sky over the city of New York.  And then it was covered in smoke.

I was fortunate enough not to know anyone that worked in the Twin Towers.  I did have a lot of family and friends in New York and it took me until 11 PM to make sure that they were all safe.  As the years have passed, I have met many who had family and friends who passed away that day.  Their stories are all different, and they all have one thing in common.  The day is emblazoned in their heads.  They don’t need a TV show to remind them.  They lived it, we all did.

A month before this happened, I had started doing my power hour.  I would get up, thank God for another day.  Make a mental list of things I was grateful for as I got dressed and jumped on my stationary bike for 20 minutes.  I would then have a fabulous breakfast and plan to have a fabulous day.  I never had a power hour after that day.  It seemed like the world was coming to an end so why bother.

That was 15 years ago.  It is amazing to think that there are kids in school learning about this from a book who have no connection to the event whatsoever.  To those kids, you might argue, the shows would give them some perspective.  This generation of kids is not interested on watching TV.  If they want to see what happened, they google the date and find all kinds of media articles, videos and information.  They don’t need you to remind them.

I wish the TV stations would stop and I am going to tell you why.  Every time they show somebody who was somehow related to this event, the terrorist feel like they won.  Even if people are doing well, in their twisted little heads, their thought is that you might be fine but you still remember.  Now mind you, I don’t want to forget.  I just don’t want them to get any more happiness out of our misery.  I also don’t want TV stations to make money out of this tragedy.  Maybe I would feel better if they donated their profits for those hours to a college scholarship for the children of the people who died that day.  I don’t know.

I did not let that day determine my life, or maybe I did.  I did decide that day that nothing and nobody can make me so afraid that I don’t do exactly what I want to do with my life.

Two weeks after 9/11, I had a convention in Arizona.  I got on the plane, scared for my life.  I made it there and most of the people were with their entire families.  They were scared to leave them behind.  I went to the spot where my brother’s ashes were distributed long before.  I cried.  I cried for my brother and for any other person that died way before their time.  I said to myself I needed to live life to the fullest.  And then I did not.

Now my father is gone, my life is taking care of my mother and I don’t know if in 30 years I will remember anything.  I do know that what we owe all those innocent victims and any other person that has died before, during and since, is the ability to live life to the fullest.  I am working on it.  Are you?

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