Recently, a friend had a good country favorite playing on her webpage. It prompted me to return to country radio for a while. See, I love country because they still play the same stuff from junior high and high school mixed in with the new stuff. I enjoy the cozy memories it brings me and I feel up with current times when I learn the new Carrie Underwood hit.
My first day driving after I decided to tune into the country station, was 9/11. Simply, not the day to listen to country. They play all of the hillbilly American pride, let’s go invade and stand up for our rights songs that give me headaches from rolling me eyes at their ignorance.
I mean, I too feel like when someone is wronged, they (a country in this case) should stand up for what is right. I guess I just feel like killing isn’t right ever and there has got to be other options. I’m not savy enough to come up with any, but the songs (and mentality of the people who wrote them) that talk about going to the Middle East and taking them out make me sick. But this is only one element of why this is a bad day to listen to country.
The part that gets me most is that the chords of one simple song throws the brain and heart back to that day. Back to waking up to my TV as my alarm and in a half dream state turning it off certain I was dreaming. Back to waking up 30 mintues later to my father’s phone call telling me I needed to be watching TV. To the minutes I debated whether or not I should wake up my roommate and if I did how was I going to word this. Back to the hours I spent clutching the pillow in my pajamas sitting cross-legged on the couch and willing my phone to ring with a call from the guy I was dating who worked at one of the buildings in L.A. that was evacuated. And back to the several thankful prayers I lifted up grateful that no one I knew was involved in this tragedy.
Each year since the Twin Towers fell, I’ve debated how to deal with the emotions that come. I go back and forth between wanting to remember and wanting to forget. And no matter which one I choose, I feel like the other one was better.
This year, I think I’ve finally been able to even figure out how I felt. It took me five years, but I think I’ve pinned it. I’m not strong enough to yet deal with the intensity of it all. I’m just not. So this is why ignoring it is easier.
The rush that comes with putting myself back in that day. The overwhelming guilt and simultaneous joy that no one I love was hurt. I just can’t do it. My eyes well with tears when I hear the above mentioned songs, even the angry foolish ones, because really, it’s just someone making an attempt to verbalize how I feel. I cry for the children and each year recalculate where they are at in their lives and wonder how they are coping. I can hardly make it through the moment of silence that my school has after saying the pledge. And I struggle to help my current students understand “why?” without turning on the waterworks.
So that’s it. There is just so much emotional flooding that happens that I can’t deal with it. So if I say I’m avoiding the news or just going about my day normally, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I can’t.
