I’ll go to work as usual. (I work in the travel business, closely with many airlines)
But I’ll be wearing a black armband.
I lost a friend who was aboard the plane that hit the Pentagon.
I might attend a prayer vigil that night as well. I haven’t been able to handle death all that well for the past two years. I become a sniffling, crying, incomprehensible fool with big puffy red eyes. I really hate it when I break down in front of others, so I might have to skip the vigil.
What’ll you do?
I can tell you what I wont be doing.
Watching glib TV coverage of it.
No TV, no radio, no Internet news. And I’ll be in four hours of Tamil language study, then back home ( a block away from the Pentagon) to go onto the roof and think about things while burning incense.
I’m really horrible, I know, but somebody has to say this:
I’m all commemorated out. I’ve seen too much crappy TV coverage of it, too many documentaries, seen too many lame grief sessions at my school, snotty kids and adult figures telling me exactly how to feel. For the most part, I’ve actually stopped caring.
Not to say I laugh at the day, it still seems awkward without the WTC, but I can’t take any more of this. I’ve just stopped…
Nothing. Why should we play up the melodrama – how will this benefit anybody but the terrorists? Why should we reopen old wounds for the kin of those who died? Simply because its been 365 days since a terrorist attack?
I wish I could think of a better way to say this, and I don’t want to sound callous, but those are my thoughts. To play this up as “our generation’s Pearl Harbor”, as some necessary rite of passage where we all banded together and reaffirmed our commitment to God and country is playing too heavily on rhetoric. The terrorists want to see this as an archetypal Good vs. Evil final showdown kinda thing, and us treating it as such is playing by their rules, IMO.
I’m working.
We have orders that the Flag be flown at half-staff from sunrise to sunset, but beyond that, nothing more official.
After work, some of this and some of that.
Oh, and my Flag at home will have been up continuously for a year.
It will stay up, too.
I’ll say a little prayer of thanksgiving for my friend Moira who brought beauty and strength to my life, who helped countless people, and got to live her dream as a member of the NYPD until those bastards knocked a building down on her.
I’ll say another prayer for all of the others who are still mourning for people who they loved and lost.
And I’ll say another thanking God that we weren’t home that day, but sitting in a hotel room in Denver, unhappily eating a ridiculously overpriced room service breakfast, griping about who knows what, now. I know that I would not have been able to handle it had I been here in lower Manhattan.
And I’ll probably spend a few minutes, looking out of my window, remembering the view that I used to have of two glorious, shining towers thrusting tall and proud into the sky, and I’ll remember, and I’ll renew my sense of righteous anger toward the murderous scum who have tried to tear the fabric of our society apart.
I will be keeping in mind that every month as many people die in the U.S. of highway accidents as died on Sept. 11. And that 20,000 Americans died of influenza last year.
I will remember it.
That’s about all.
Walloon: not to mention people dead from smoking, or AIDS.
Well, my friend will probably be celebrating his birthday, along with his girlfriend’s birthday, who happens to have it on the same day.
As for me, I probably won’t do anything special, but it’ll be a part of my thoughts.
I think I will talk to my friend in New York who I was chatting via email with last year when it happened. I still have the dialogue saved in my inbox.
I’ll remember what it felt like and where I was and I’ll probably re-read this thread which was started around the same time the second plane hit.
On the other hand, I may have lunch with a friend of mine, since it will be her birthday. I’ll also be glad that my best friend’s wedding was one week earlier, and I’ll celebrate a different, quieter anniversary. Finally to counter all the glurge that will be on television, I may borrow or rent a video.
I may attend a church service at some point during the day.
I will be working, since it’s a work day.
But I’ve also given some thought to it, and while it may seem trivial, or inappropriate, here’s what I’m going to do and why:
Since the attack that day was directed at the American way of life, I’m going to appreciate the hell out of our way of life.
I’m going to spend time listening to Scott Joplin and Louie Armstrong and Benny Goodman and Chuck Berry and Linda Ronstadt and the Beach Boys. Because 20th Century American popular music kicks ass.
I’m going to laugh at the Marx Brothers and recall how cool Star Wars was and is, and I’m going to marvel at Citizen Kane and Singin’ In The Rain. Because nobody makes movies the way Hollywood, USA, does.
I’m going to read some Walt Whitman, and some Stephen King, and some Hemingway, and some Steinbeck, and Mark Twain. American writers, influential and unique.
I’m going to look at maps and see how cities and people are connected and think how, in less than 200 years, we conquered and civilized a continent, and how we keep it connected and, for the most part, civilized. This “grand experiment” has worked, and it’s not because of the politicians, it’s because of the people.
If last year’s attack was supposed to damage the American way of life – destroy it somehow – then I want to revel in its survival and acknowledge that it can’t be destroyed.
I’ll be picking the lint out of my navel, every bit as meaningful as anything all those lachrymose, flag-waving morons will be doing. I really feel deeply sorry for the victims and those who care about them, but a national scab-picking fest won’t bring a single one of them back.
Turn off the TV. Enough already.
Think of all those people who died there.
And ignore TV.
Knowing me, I’ll probably dress all in black. I’ll spend the day quietly remembering how I spent the day last year. The only time I ever set foot in the campus church was for the non-religion-specific prayer service, and so many people stood up and spoke at the candlelight vigil.
I don’t have a TV, I won’t watch or listen to the news, I won’t go to the memorial service, and I won’t sit around being depressed all day. So there.
I may be (just a) Canadian, but that day is forever etched in my memory, and I’ve loved NYC ever since my first visit. It’s where my dream career (writing musicals) will hopefully one day take me.
We have live video feeds at work to monitor our video hardware & software, so we saw it all as it happened.
Before I leave for work, I’ll put on “Seasons of Love” from the musical RENT (“How do you measure, measure a year?”) and cry my eyes out. 
My bus will leave the metro station two minutes to the year the first plane struck. I’ll swipe my keycard at work exactly one year to the minute the second plane struck.
I’ll remember the trepidation I felt knowing planes were being diverted to an airport only a couple of miles from where I work, and be thankful there were no incidents.
We have a birthday lunch to go to next Wednesday, so I’ll be dressed a little nicer than usual.
And I want to see the Canadian and Quebec flags outside the building - which were lowered last year - flying high and proud. 
I don’t have a TV, I won’t watch or listen to the news, I won’t go to the memorial service, and I won’t sit around being depressed all day. So there.
That pretty much sums it up for me as well.