Scars are visible reminders of hurts past. We can examine them and remember the mistakes we made that caused them.

That certainly won't do in this modern age.

It's this time of year. The slant of light, the roadside weeds going into autumn, this anniversary - the way we resist its heft.

The Simons haunt us, our personal ones and those 3,000 spirits sent drifting forever on that day.

We Lisas are left to tally the days and years and to grow amazed that life continued when it seemed time could not exist beyond the horror and pain.

The America that was made "stronger at the broken places" turned out in force yesterday in Washington, D.C.

It is a solid consolation that 9-11 was the catalyst for so many to reconsider; and to fight off the seduction of identity politics, entitlements and excuses. We could start with Gerard here, and make a wonderful list of men and women who abandoned grievances and are now shining their lights on the constitution and all that is right and good in America.

Our grandparents taught us that men can best be known by the small things. After the inauguration of Barack Obama, after "Earth Day", after the anti-war protests, The Mall and all of D.C. was a-swirl with tons of litter. After the Tea Party yesterday? Hardly an energy bar wrapper to be seen.

Res Ipsa Loquitur. It is left to us to teach another generation of Americans to suffer proudly for the right causes, and to make good use of their scars.

I still have a hard time forgiving NPR's Brook Gladstone.

In an interview last year with Seattle's NPR feed, KUOW she said, talking about another reporter, listing his many positive attributes "...he's gotten over 9/11..."

I can't write what I screamed at the radio..this is a family website....

Gerard - Keep reminding us of that tragic day in American history, at every possible opportunity.

I was told of a couple who visited the site after a long time. They joined a tour conducted by the National Park Service. The guide referred to the site as "the place where the accident happened".

DAMN THEM TO HELL! Obviously they've moved on and want history to forget "The Day"

Vengeance is a reaction. A lashing out to perpetrators without thought to why it was done.

This loss requires a reckoning, as the 'Root of the Problem (tm)' remains.

Islam.

This loss needs to be remembered if there is going to be a reckoning.

Cond0010 - You are, of course, right. The cause of this problem is the one that has been at war with all that's good and decent for 1,387 years - at least. Islam. And Islam will not see out this century - at least in its present form.

Whether the end comes swiftly, in thunder, starfire and mass death, or less swiftly by soldiers too small to see dismantling anyone who utters the Shahada cell by cell, or finally cutting off their access to Western money, throwing them all back into the cesspit they came from and letting them starve - it doesn't matter. The 1400-year war will not become 1500.

We can all do a little, and for my part I'm doing it. You have a c-store or newsagent locally, run by Pakistanis? Don't shop there. You have a business yourself? Don't sell your goods or services to Moslems. And don't employ any, either; you don't have to give any reason for not employing someone. Cross the street, if it's safe, when an apparition in a niqab or burkha goes by. If it's safe, and there is a group of Muslims in their five-daily arse in the air pose and they are in your way, go right through the middle of them. Bonus points for accidentally dropping bits of your bacon sandwich on one as you go past.

Make them unwelcome enough and they will leave.

God has shown us the way. Nuke Mecca. Then I will feel better.

I remember a brick wall near St. Vincent's. About half-way down the block I broke down. Other people were crying also, and others walking with that face that you get when you live in that town, plus a little something extra. I used to watch the late night shows regularly, I have not since. I didn't listen to music for about two years, maybe more. I did start to drink heavily, and know a few who just never got off that barstool. One woman who was already New York nervous to begin with, had a massive heart attack upon hearing one of the terrifying but fairly common underground transformer explosions, and died in her cubicle. The five years afterward that I remained, were one story after another, some miraculous, most just awful. I know some who are tired of hearing about it, but it's a cultural thing, a little to close to home, if you will, but for me, no. I was in church on the tenth anniversary and kind of broke down again, but that was a thousand miles away, and those that remembered there, know because they saw the television reportage. I still don't know why it's not an official day of remembrance, I'm still angry it took years to put up a memorial, I'm still angry that with all the money in the world and resources the real events of the day have not been captured, and no, I cannot forget.

I lived and worked in North Jersey, when it happened. We were sent home that afternoon, early. I could see the plume of smoke drifting southward in the wind.

At home I turned on the teevee, put an empty VCR tape in the machine, hit 'record,' and let it record until it was full. I did that for the next, oh, I don't know, week or so.

I've moved twice since then, those tapes always come with me, even though I no longer own a VCR (who does?). I don't even know if they are still playable.

I've never been able to bring myself to watch them, anyway.