I pour water into the saucepan and turn the gas up to medium high. Steel cut oatmeal this morning. Yes. Perfect for the coolth of this morning. “Brisk” says my brain, and I accept the analysis as accurate.
I sit in front of my laptop with a steaming bowl of oatmeal with cranberries and read my friends page. Links to BBC articles. Webcomics. Occasional posts by friends. One of them catches my eye and I remember the date. Oh. It’s that day.
I feel bad for people with this birthday. Especially anyone born six years ago on this date. US society does not exactly encourage any sort of celebration today.
I could write about where I was when I first heard and what I did, but I did that three years ago. I have nothing to add to my recollections. Nothing more has surfaced from the depths of memory.
Now I think about memory and the phrase “never forget.” But we, as a society, will forget. Well, maybe not completely. We will always have it mentioned in history class. It will be a date among many like 7 Dec. 1941. Does anyone other than revolutionary war buffs or history teachers remember 5 Mar. 1770? On these dates people died. On these dates, national outrage was stirred and the flames of war were fanned. Justifiably so. No nation (although in the case of the Boston Massacre, we were technically still a colony) should allow such attacks to occur to its people unanswered.
Such outrage should not and cannot last. It is simply impossible to sustain it. It should be no surprise that we do not feel the same way about every one of those dates.
I guess that I just find myself thinking, “will I be talking to my grandchildren about this someday? Will they even care?”