There's a new ad campaign meant to apparently remind us that September 11 happened and was a really bad thing.
Where were you when you heard about Sept. 11?
Kiara Bradley was driving a bus. Gary Robertson was on his farm in California. Fire Department Lt. Mickey Kross was at New York's Engine Company 16, before he went to the burning World Trade Center and survived the north tower's collapse.
A national ad campaign being launched on Thursday features the stories of people who remember where they were when they heard of the 2001 terrorist attacks.
Hell, why stop there? Why not have ad campaigns targeted towards specific people? Judy Smith, where were you when you found out your child had leukemia? Joe Anderson, where were you when your wife was killed by a drunk driver? Let's have ad campaigns to remind all of us all the time about every single loved one who died tragically. And not a campaign to remind you of the loved one and how great they were - oh no - a campaign to remind you of the horrible moment of their horrible death. It's like memorializing your dead mother each year not by recollecting about how she used to bake those wonderful ginger cookies, but rather, making an annual ritual out of talking about how every bone in her body was smashed by a semi-truck. What a great way to remember mom.
What the hell is our obsession with remembering September 11? We remember it, ok. I don't need a TV commercial to remind me of that day or how I felt. I was there. It took me a long time to get over it. And I most certainly don't need my politicians, or anyone else, trying to drag me back to that day kicking and screaming several times a year as if I don't remember it, and as if it's somehow healthy to keep bringing it up.
Last year when I was in Paris I was out to dinner with friends at a really nice restaurant. Suddenly right behind me an entire tray of dishes went smashing to the floor. I jumped, like anyone would, but then I felt more. My head started to go a little numb and I started to feel boxed in by the booth I was sitting in. My friends continued jabbering away, but all I could think of was how the hell I was going to get out of that restaurant as quickly as possible. Well, I was boxed in by other diners, there was clearly no escape, so I broke into tears. I don't cry, it was very weird. And I immediately knew that I was having a September 11 flashback - no question at all.
I don't need anyone reminding me of September 11, thank you very much. In fact, as last summer's plate crashing episode reminded me, I could still use a little more forgetting about September 11.
Unfortunately we live in a country and a society where the dead aren't just eulogized, they're propagandized.
