Erstwhile Warrior

  It still hurts. Its still raw.

Those were my thoughts as Taps echoed through the rain in lower Manhattan. Three buglers playing, as they do every year.

I remember when I was a cub scout, we would hear Taps being played to signal the end of the day. This day however, seems like it will never end. 

It has often been said that I live in the past too much, that I am nostalgia obsessed and focus too much on memory. This is true, I will attest to that. A few days ago, at a doctors appointment, Christmas was brought up, I forget by whom, but it started a lively, joyful conversation, and recollection of my favorite Christmas. It was actually 2001. 

It was our first year in our new home. That, combined with the events of 4 months prior provided a heighted sense of togetherness and joy. Upwards of 75-80 people were here throughout the day, with parking becoming so difficult at times, people had to park on the front lawn, which while spacious enough to accommodate, did result in a rather..."trashy" look.

Our house was decorated with much holiday joy, my mother made sure. It has often been said that, "Christmas vomits" on our house, something I still take a sense of pride in.

This would be one of the final times in which I can recall 3 of my best friends and I being together as a group. In some way, maybe I knew this was the case, because I was adamant about getting a photo of us together. Since then, only one I still speak to, His is a friendship, a bond, nay, a brotherhood I will forever cherish.

I look back on that Christmas with fondness more so than others, if for no other reason than the fact that many since have become increasingly less joyful. Loss of family members, particularly my mother in 2003, grandmother in 2005, cousin and uncle in 2013, have left a gaping hole. 

Combine this with my own issues leading to my alienation of many friends...and the holidays have become a lonely, melancholic time of year for me. I am cognizant of this fact each year, yet I persist in the traditions in the hopes that I can once again regain that sense of joyfulness and togetherness on which I took such delight in 21 years ago. I am aware nothing will compare to that day, but if I could in some way bring about a new memory filled with positivity and joy, than perhaps I can finally say I have moved on.

This is not to say I will not remember, for memory is, and always will be a powerful part of my psyche.

Each year on this day, I try to keep my morning schedule as close to that day as I can. This is how I choose to honor those lost. Its my own way of allowing myself to grieve, and to cope. I am certain many find this yearly ritual bizarre to say the least, while others simply wish I would get over it. 

To them, I ask, how does the way I chose to mourn matter to you? I try to empathize with as many people as I can. I try to see the world as they see it, this way I can better assist them through their struggles. Sometimes this works, sometimes not One thing I have gathered is that everyone copes differently, and the best way to help that person, is to ask them if you can help.

Though I will admit that over the past few years, this one especially, in the days preceding, I questioned why and if I should still do this. 

Today I saw someone hang a flag outside their apartment window whilst in the middle of trip to the pier I was at 21 years ago. They saw me, wearing one of the only remaining, very worn FDNY t-shirts I still have and gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture and felt...vindicated. "Perhaps people are still remembering," I thought to myself. 

I don't let the memory of the day dictate my life. I no longer carry its weight with me, but I do not simply disavow its existence. So will I return to the pier next year? I'm not sure. There is a whole year ahead in which I get the opportunity to build new memories on. 

There is no time limit on grieving. If anyone is aware of that, its me. While I am doing this to honor, I am also doing it out of habit and routine. 

Having Asperger's makes routine a very large part of my life. This can be debilitating at times, and occasionally I not only recognize the need to overcome these issues, I do manage to make progress. This is due in part to the weariness of it all, combined with a good therapist.   

A few months ago I had brain surgery. It is supposed to give me a new lease on life. Though I am still recovering, I desperately look forward to the chance to make new memories to look back upon. Maybe I will accomplish something heretofore impossible...at least in my mind.

If I could offer you any advice based upon my experiences with this day, it would be this;

Remember that from the bad days, good days and great memories will always prevail. Don't let the negative blind you from the positive.

After The Dawning Of The Day

Where to begin? It feels like forever, but it also seems as though time has stood still. It's been Twenty years since America had 2,977 souls taken from us. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, friends, and lovers. Two decades.

It still in many aspects doesn't feel real. Maybe we don't want it to feel real. 

We were transformed that morning into a different nation. A more fearful one and as such, sadly more hostile. It was a sweetly serene cloudless morning that seemed to promise nothing but goodness. A world we still wish it could be. It offered an innocence we would never see again. We were jolted from a slumber to see the heart of darkness. While nothing, not even the march of time can bring back those who we lost on that morning without reason, let the fact we are here now serve as a welcome reminder that throughout our history, our darkest days have always been followed by our finest hours.

And yet, here we are, still asking not to judge others by the circumstances of their birth, or color of their skin, but by the depths of their character. We need to reclaim that resolve to be better that the days following that morning brought. It was a time, however brief, when we showcased the strength of ideals when made real. We showed that what unites can be stronger than what divides us. That we can be beaten only when we stop believing in what we wish we could be.  

We were tested and it brought out the best of us. We turned the fire of destruction into a light in the darkness. On that day, we saw total strangers protect us,  And now we ask that they protect us again, yet some don't see it that way. 

These individuals need to come to a realization that science, education, and humanity can all co-exist for the betterment of all. 

Many days It seems as though we can't even survive each other let alone whatever the planet is throwing at us this week. Mother nature is probably pulling her hair out somewhere right now, frustrated at whether or not to unleash another flood before or after this weeks inevitable mass shooting or Darwin endorsed viral challenge. 

We need to be better than this. I know we can be. Hell, we've proven we are. It's not about being a sheep, or following a herd, its not about mandatory this or enforcing that. It's about the continued existence of the human race. 

Twenty years ago, bureaucrats swore that the toxins that enveloped the city were harmless and not a danger. Scientists steadfastly stated that they were wrong, that it was dangerous and contained unknown amounts of toxicity. Since that day, more than 3,000 first responders alone have passed away. 

It's enough to make me want to put my fist through someone's skull sometimes. It's that damned infuriating sometimes. 

But this isn't about me. It's not about one person anymore. We're all in this together. We're a team, and its time we started contributing and helping everyone. The ignorance that got us into a lot of where we currently are and consistently repeating that mistake is not the answer. 

I don't like to come from a place of anger. It's not who I am. I believe in peace, I want love, and I don't care how cliché that sounds, because that is honestly how I feel. But this constant tug of war between two domineering sides of humanity just wears in the soul till that's what remains. We need to be united in a common goal again.

Today, going forward should not be about aggression or hostility. Today should be the first day of the rest of our lives. A rebirth. A day in which we look back at who we once we're and start looking forward of who we will become.

It has been 7300 days since September 11^th, 2001. They have built parks with beautiful monuments with names that slowly stop seeming like real people. They’ve named junior high schools and streets after people. But soon enough it will just be us. We will be the only ones that remember

Let's stop having these tragedies in order to remember people...if that all we can do to honor the ones we loved and lost is be the ones who remember, have we really honored their sacrifice? 

Steam Powered And Rogers Resolute

   I often find that time, the concept of it, is frightening, if for no other reason then the fact it's arbitrary in many aspects. You can't fight it, nor can you rewind it, you can't stop it, you just have to exist with it.

So when I look at the calendar in the corner of my screen and see that the year is 2018, following 3 numbers that have been seared into the collective consciousnesses of a generation, I wonder why I am still accompanied by temporal shock. Has this much time really transpired since then? "Can't be real.", I tell myself. Then I am reminded of Don Henley's tune, "In a New York Minute." He remarks on how, "everything can change." And my word has it ever.

We were all transformed that day, we became wholly different. Fearful. Hostile. A reflection of another point in time that we sought to distance ourselves from.

The days since have grown longer for many of us, and many of us have become more world weary and tired. Aching, Our feet our heavy with life, though we wouldn't admit as such, for admitting any weakness is an insult to the machismo and bravado some try so desperately to cling to, as if to admit to anyone that empathy is not welcome.

We desperately need to alter this outlook. We can be better. Our feet must be heavy and loud with optimism and yes, hope. A welcoming of emotion and humanity is very much a good thing.

Everyone of us is on a clock. That clock will run out. Maybe not today, maybe it will be in 20 years, 40 years, but at some point, it will run out. Our time is finite. Is living in fear and anger really the best use of that time?

I'm one of those annoying people who lets bad days stack like Lego bricks into a bad week, bad month, etc. Now, I don't know if you're like me, and wow do I hope you aren't...but if you are, at least in that aspect, you and me have to change that mindset fast.

Every year I write these monologues and I try, in my own minute way to not just illustrate my thoughts, but to stir others to action, to shake the dust of that day off and rise. Rise like my mothers favorite musician, Bruce Springsteen urged us all to do. It may be as simple as going out for a run or walk. Be Steadfast and unwavering. Be tenacious and posses boundless energy.

There is no reason not to. The urgency of the ever ticking clock should spur you to do more, do better, do good, because while the future is a mystery, why not try and make it a good one?

After Ascension

   Each year on this day I attempt to repeat the same schedule as I did 16 years prior, at least I try to. As the years pass, I have found life often alters the schedule. As a friend once said, "we plan and the universe laughs." Sometimes change like this can actually be for the better.

   That day is slowly beginning to fell like many years ago, and that actually scares me. The passage of time in general is quite sobering.

   The ruins of the chasm in lower Manhattan have been filled with the memories of a day forever frozen in memory. I, until this spring during a race, refused to set foot on that hallowed ground. "This is not my place", I thought, until the kindness of a friend imbued me with spirit and determination that made the open wound in my mind and soul begin to heal...just a bit.

   This is one of the many reasons why I run. It is healing, freeing, in a way, even though it can be at times tortuous, it lets the mind expand and breathe, giving birth to new ideas and thoughts, pushing the clutter aside.

   It seems as though we're sometime out of touch with ourselves and with others. And we need that to end. We need to learn how to make better use of what we have at our disposal.

   You may find that even what was a traumatic event, in many cases, becomes a learning experience. You grew and gained from it. Eventually, even, you might even become a better person from it. That is how we are supposed to grow as a species, as a culture.

   Yet, we're lately, we seem to be out of touch with ourselves and with others. And we need that to end. We need to learn how to make better use of what little time we have on this rock, what we have at our disposal, and utilize it to improve the world. We are not doing this right now.

   For example, Staten Island, while my home, no longer feels welcoming to me. A place I would once staunchly defend to no end has turned into a cesspool of bitterness and bigotry of which I fear there may not be a return from. This is something that was told to me by multiple people, all of whom I rebuked, until last year. We need to take a long hard look in the mirror and ask ourselves, "Have we really progressed as a culture, as a species?" I don't think so. If this is the best we can do, i'm not impressed.

   In fact, in light of the recent weather events, some people are claiming the, "end times" have finally arrived. Me being a staunch atheist, just sees it as a continuance of the cycle of life, albeit not a good one.

   Yet through all this, I still have hope. I'm no longer the full blown optimist I was a child, though I look to the rest of my city, once ruined, and see that it has been reborn, and though some may argue otherwise, I think this is truly for the better. It's certainly beats the alternative. Being stuck is something i'm good at. I'm not happy about it, nor am I proud of it. It is, in fact something i'm attempting to rectify. But, unlike this city, it is not a change that can happen in an instant. You to can make positive change happen.

   Making my way through this darkness, I'm still searching for the bright light of my finest hour. It has been a titanic battle of wills, and many days I find it difficult to even get out of bed. But I do, and push through to the best of my abilities. Some days are better than others, and some days the only way I can get through it is by using the mindset of, "I know something out there is trying to beat me, and i'm gonna fight it just to piss it off."

   What was once an empty sky has once again been populated with glass and steel. Stone and wire. Men and women. People. Going about their lives. Everyone of them fighting a battle most of us will never know anything about. So when you interact with these people, or any person, take the briefest of moments and remember that. Be human. Show compassion.