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2001-09-17 || 4:51 p.m. || memorial || there are blue icebergs caught under the fingernails and the head is all tired and heavy from crying. crying with fist over mouth crying with water spouting and shoved hastily away into pockets. there is a wad of tissue up the right sleeve patterned after the ingrained/genetic habit of grandma far away. there was a memorial service in memorial glade today. thousands of students and university people sitting on grass indian style in front of a stage of singers and instruments and microphones and chancellors and community people. and news cameras. and photographers. aiming to shoot and exploit people visibly crying. amplified voices echoing against berkeley hills some breaking some wavering some booming and loud. sit down stand up for the national anthem. sit down stand up for america the beautiful. moments of silence and the word meditation used too many times for my taste. personal stories and speechtalk and snippets of inspirational poetry. it was the choked up voice sounds. and america the beautiful : remembering singing it so loud every day of third grade, proud and imagining pictures of purple mountains and fields of grain, and then cutting with a cinematic flash to right then, today, standing with all these people, singing this song not because mrs. larkey is at the piano demanding us to but because people have died and we are going to war and we are supposed to be loving america right now. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |