The most vivid memory in my entire life came about on my grandmother’s stoop in Brooklyn. Thirteen years ago, I stood beside my father and watched smoke continually rising into the atmosphere. No words were exchanged and none needed to be spoken.
Every year since then, there’s been a nationwide effort to commemerate the day each year. For some it’s a moment of silence. For others it’s a facebook post. For some it’s a visit to a memorial.
In the past few years, there’s been frustration expressed from people who are of the opinion that we do or show too much on this day through tv or facebook posts or moments of silence. To those frustrated, I ask for your patience. Everyone posting and broadcasting today still remember the good of today: the unity, the birthdays and all the other good memories.
They just don’t want to forget the bad either.