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Today’s Theme Music

An old fave. From an excellent album and nineteen eighty-five, here’s Annie Lennox and the Eurythmics with, “Would I Lie to You?”

I’d come back from Okinawa the year this was released, and was assigned to a mobility unit. We traveled a lot, mostly to Florida, but also Egypt and other parts of the Middle East, and Europe. I’d bought a new Mazda RX-7, and put over fifty thousand miles on it driving to temporary duty locations. The net result of that traveling, I’ve never seen this video until today. It’s, ah, interesting, with the story it told.

Side note: nineteen eighty-five was the year of my first computer. It used CP/M 86, had a tiny green screen, dual floppies, and ran at 4.77 MHz, but it was something. Using WordStar, I’d put it to learn how to write fiction, but mostly, I gamed on it.

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My 9/11

My memory of 9/11/2001. We watched television all day, looking for updates, watching the other attacks, and waiting for more attacks. Later in the week, spinning and misinformation began. We became very familiar with the name Osama Bin Laden and the group called Al Qaida.

Most believed the attacks of 9/11 were going to end up with America going to war. The Bush administration seemed giddy about the prospect. We didn’t know how much war would result. The wars continue. I can’t see the end game to it. Lives have been lost and destroyed. People have been maimed and injured. The attacks of 9/11 and our response still split our definition of what America is, and strives to be. Since 9/11, we’ve spiraled into fear. The fear is often stoked to manipulate voters, priorities, and patriotism.

President Bush started the wars. Some will argue OBL started it; some will argue it began with the first Persian Gulf War. Others will point to its origins as the period when the CIA armed and trained OBL and his followers in their battle against the Soviets. Others will say it began when the Brits carved up the middle east after World War I. Whenever it began, President Obama failed to end it; I have doubts that President Trump will succeed. I doubt his interest in ending it.

It’s a sad part of our history of secrets, revenge, and power.

Michael Seidel's avatarMichael Seidel, writer

My wife always wondered why I was up then.

I was three months into a new job, living in Half Moon Bay, California. And for some reason, on that day, I did things I didn’t do on other days. For some reason, I awoke at 5 AM. False dawn was leaning in the windows. I went downstairs. I turned on the television. Settling myself on the sofa, I turned on CNN.

All those things are contrary to my usual routines. I rarely watch TV before 6 PM, and don’t typically watch CNN. But there I was, lying on the couch, watching history. The first aircraft had struck one building. I realized the second plane had struck before the commentators as I watched the live feed.

My wife asks me, “Why were you up? Why did you turn on the television, and CNN? That’s totally unlike you.”

And I answer honestly…

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Blueberry

I was making a smoothie this morning. Spinach, banana, pear, blackberries, blueberries…well, you know what a smoothie is.

The blueberries were from the ones we’d picked and froze earlier this year. Opening the container lets out a burst of early summer scents.

I tipped the berries into a measuring cup. One berry remained in the original container. I tried shaking it out. Shouting, “Resist,” it hung on. I shook harder.

That didn’t help.

Resigned to using my fingers, I plucked it out. “For your reward, I’ll eat you alone.” He said nothing back. I popped him in my mouth.

He was a little bitter.

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Inspirational Quote # 740

That sums it up. In reflection, it ends up like a lot of issues, addictions, and problems. You’re trapped by the tensions of what you want to do, need to do, and can’t do.

Today, You Will Write's avatarToday, You Will Write

quote-yes-it-s-hard-to-write-but-it-s-harder-not-to-carl-clinton-van-doren-8-5-0582.jpg Google Search Image

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Lesson Learned

He’d discovered a small stone in his sandal during his evening walk. He tried dislodging it through contortions that involved kicking. He knew he could remove the sandal and get rid of the stone. He didn’t do that. Instead, as the stone inflicted a more painful moment on a toe, he complained, “Is there anything worse than a stone in your shoe?”

“Maybe,” he replied to himself. “A hair in your soup?”

“That’s not worse.”

“Okay. A shot in the head. Getting stabbed in the heart.”

“I get your point.”

“Acid thrown on your face. Your throat slit. Being set on fire.”

“That’s enough.”

“Starving to death. Dying of thirst. Suffocating. Drowning.”

“Enough!”

He fell silent. That would teach him to talk to himself.

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