Like Yesterday

I have no idea how to write a post about the 10th anniversary of September 11th.

It doesn't seem like ten years ago to me. Or even ten days. Sometimes it is a pressingly current thing for me, like it was yesterday.

I don't want to talk about where I was ten years ago. I have told you all that before. I don't want to tell you how that day has informed the choices I have made since then, including playing a role (though certainly not the only factor in that decision) in my joining the Service. You know that already. And I don't need to tell you how fiercely patriotic I was before and am after...if you read this blog, I'd bet chances are you are too.

I don't want to see another picture or video of the planes hitting the towers or the towers coming down. And not because I think we should "heal" or "move on," but because I don't need reminding. My Service to this country reminds me every day...reminds me to do, among other things, my part to keep it from happening again.

What I do want to tell you about is how I spent the anniversary of the attacks.

We had a concert.

It was the most amazingly beautiful thing to see. We held the event in the Niguliste Church in Tallinn's Old City. The church was built sometime around 1230 and survived until it was partially destroyed during World War II. The church has been restored and was a beautiful, somber setting for a beautiful, somber concert performed by the artists of Eesti Konsert.


Their performance was beautiful, tasteful and respectful, a loving tribute to those who perished that day. And among our honored guests were the wounded veterans of Estonia who served side by side with our troops in Afghanistan, the families of those who lost their lives there, as well as Estonian first responders. Their spirit is the same that led members of the NYFD and NYPD to run in while others were running out.

This was, I think, a perfect way to mark the day that none of us want to remember on none of us dare forget.

If you would like to see some pictures from the event, click here (our Embassy's photos), here and here.

Remembering

I pass by the Pentagon every day. Specifically, I pass by the side the plane hit.

I am proud of the way we handled it...it is exactly how we should deal with the things the terrorists knock down. We should put them back, exactly the same. Because they shouldn't have the right to change us.

Still, that side of the building, with slightly whiter, slighter cleaner, stone, looks like a scar to me. It makes me sad and angry.

I have meant to go to the memorial there since it opened, but have just haven't gotten around to it.

I rectified that today. It is beautiful and touching. If you haven't gone, go.

Those folks died for our country, so we can stay the same.

Today, I also visited here to remember some other folks who died for our country.



It was a good day remembering.

Remembering 9/11

There are a number of reasons I joined the Foreign Service. I had always wanted to serve the country, but as an out lesbian, serving in the military was not an option for me.

I thought my path was an an archaeologist, but when I watched the planes slam into the towers and sat with my classes trying to help my undergrads understand what was happening when none of us understood what was happening, I wondered if what I was doing mattered. Whether there was something else I should be doing.

Not long thereafter, my wife got the call to join the Service. And not long after that, I decided to take the test, not really believing I would make it in.

There were lots of reasons for it. I wanted us to be together. The work she was doing seemed interesting and meaningful and her colleagues seemed intelligent, competent and nice. Just the sort of folks you want to work with.

But a big part was also that I really wanted to serve.

And so I am.

I hope today you will keep in your thoughts and prayers those who died nine years ago, their loved ones who continue to struggle with their loss, and those who serve this country in the military and Foreign Service, many of us in no small part because of the events of that day.

Where Were You?

I was in Chapel Hill, NC, sitting in a graduate anthropology class on chiefdoms six years ago today. We took a short break to go across the hall to our office and Theresa told us all the news. One friend's father was working at the Pentagon. Others knew people in NY. All of us were stunned.

I taught class that day and we mostly sat with the tv on and talked about the attack. In the days and weeks to come, I spent a lot of time thinking about what it all meant and wondering if archaeology was the best way for me to serve my country.

My first impulse was to join the military, but I shouldn't have to lie about who I am in order to serve. They shouldn't make me a security risk by forcing me to be closeted.

So I joined the State Department instead, where I could be open about who I am, and for the last three years I have served my country as a diplomat. I am proud of my service even when I am not proud of my country. But for all its flaws, it is still the best deal going, and having been overseas, I still think America does most things better than anyone else. I still think America is the best country on the planet.

But now, and maybe this is partly a function of turning 40, I wonder if I might better serve my country by going back into archaeology. By teaching people that our country's history did not begin with the landing of the Mayflower or even the various explorers before that. Maybe teaching people about my history, as an American Indian, is also service. Maybe reaching out to other Indians is a good way to serve as well, because we are part of the tapestry of this country and part of what makes this country strong.

I don't know what I will do. I like my job and I continue to be proud to serve. But I love archaeology. It is important to me to serve. I am just not sure how.