w  o  r  d  s


     9/11
    Remembering Americans.
    by Larry Miller
    09/11/2002 12:00:00 AM

                  Larry Miller, contributing humorist


      I COULDN'T AVOID THIS. I had to write it. And there's no better title than
      that. I know every bonehead with a computer and a forum has held forth on
      this anniversary. You may be sick of it. I may be sick of it. Except that
      I'm not. I'm drawn to it again and again. You don't say a prayer just
      once, you say it every day, twice, thrice, ten times a day. You don't say
      "I love you" once to someone, you say it over and over again; forever, I
      believe.

      I'm supposed to be funny with these columns. Forgive me. I don't feel so
      funny just now. When is it time to be funny again? I don't know. Next
      time? Maybe. I don't know.

      I've been moved constantly for a year, surprised each time, then filled
      with remorse at thinking I had seen and heard and read enough. Every story
      has shaken me: the widows, the children, the parents, the babies, the
      heroes. You've heard them all, yet they're new each time, aren't they?
      Each story of the woman praying for guidance and being filled with the
      presence and the light of her dead husband and hearing his voice, audibly,
      saying, "Don't worry. I'm with God. Don't dwell on what happened to me."
      Astonishing. I believe them. I feel sorry for anyone who doesn't.

      There's a lot I've had to complain about over the years with the New York
      Times. But after 9/11 they started running a series of profiles of the
      murdered--short bios with pictures. Each one so beautifully written, so
      plaintive, so lyrical, so movingly sparse. Shattering. Whatever the Times
      has ever done or ever will do, for good or bad, they have, in my mind,
      paid for it many times over with those gorgeous pieces. So many. Each one
      crushing. I couldn't read another. I read another. I can't do it again. I
      did it again. Just like you. Like all of us.

      And the hardest, the worst, the most painful? Those photographs. Small.
      Perfect. Those smiles. You know them. You can see them now. Every one.
      Sweet. Kind. Loving. Optimistic. Innocent. Godly. In other words,
      American. There, I've said it. American. Does anyone else say it? You do,
      many of you do, don't you?

      Too few, though. So many of our own people on the wrong side. You've heard
      their voices and read their bile: "We deserved it, we always have, we
      always will." Crap. Forget about them. They will never understand. Leave
      them to their mewling, torn self-loathing, their blocked, granite refusal
      to see the truth, to see what's right.

      And our enemies. What of them? Talk to them? Seek to understand? Get the
      approval of the United Nations? Turn the other cheek? Sorry. Not today.
      Not tomorrow. Not soon. Not for a long time. I can't. I won't. Forgive me,
      God.

      I've seen a bunch of architects' drawings for rebuilding on the site of
      the Twin Towers. Naturally, they all stink. (I don't get contemporary
      architecture, anyway. It's like modern and post-modern music and art to
      me, indecipherable and undistinguished.) Besides, has no one noticed? It's
      a graveyard, a holy ground of pulverized human bodies, a shrine forever
      where thousands of souls ascended in a great, mass apotheosis. Are we
      going to put a Starbuck's there? Leave it alone. People will come to pray.
      And if we're all worried about the loss in commercial land value--nothing
      wrong with that, by the way--the Americans (and others) who visit in the
      future will more than make up for it when they stay at hotels and buy food
      and raise a glass.

      That's it. That's all. No insights, nothing new. Sorry. Just another
      bonehead weighing in. I had to do it. Back to funny next time. I guess. I
      hope. I don't know. Just not now. Not today.

      Larry Miller is a contributing humorist to The Daily Standard and a writer
      and actor living in Los Angeles.









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