Media-crity

Everyone should read what Keith Olbermann said tonight as item #1 on his countdown regarding the state of the nation 5 years after 9/11.

He goes from how shameful it is that Ground Zero is still a hole in the ground with no memorial, into the terrible beauty of unity in the days following, then slams into how the president took advantage at a time when even his detractors put their animosity and doubt aside and supported him, then wraps it up with a reference to the brilliant Twilight Zone episode “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,”

The text doesn’t do it justice because it lacks the cold fire flaring in his eyes as he spoke and spit these words.

I did what I swore I wouldn’t: watched 9/11 specials on TV. My cousin/best friend/might-as-well-be-sister called tonight and we started talking about that day and I just felt pulled to watch. I’ve been pretty okay, but I haven’t been intently focusing either. Still can’t believe it’s been 5 years. That day feels so far away, but the time in between feels like it hasn’t been that much, if that makes sense. It’s easy to sort of forget parts and just remember that it was a horrific event. I think it’s important, for me anyway, to remind myself of specific elements. I read a story on MSNBC today that was a Dateline segment with the air-traffic controllers that day and what they felt and saw.

I know it probably sounds insane that I’mm doing this with all the emotional turmoil in my own life right now. Right now, though, I’m okay with the wedding. Maybe I got a lot of the drama done earlier, I don’t know, I’m just not really letting stress get to me. I can be pretty high strung and tightly wound but nothing is really fazing me. I’m getting a little anxious in that first-day-of-kindergarten way. This is a huge life change, one of the biggest. I’m excited, but scared of what’s going to change. I’m hearing my friends and family make plans around the big day and it feels weird to not be involved because my weekend is already so jam packed because it’s MY wedding. That’s weird. I’ve gone to plenty of family weddings and done the pre-dinner and post-brunch and the hanging out in the hotel bar or lobby … but now, it’s my gig and I’ll be focused all over the place and it makes me a little sad, I guess. Can’t really explain it.

It’ll all get a little more real when I get over to Rhode Island and into the thick of final preparations.

We’ve grown up together, you and me. I’d been living in my first apartment on my own for a couple of months when I decided I wanted company. I took the bus to Bishop’s Corner to Pet Supplies Plus (this was before they built the Petco even) and stood on my toes to try to see into the hamster tank. I picked out a cage and some toys and food and then asked an employee to get me a hamster. He quickly put you in a box, but I could see that you were pretty big already. While he was ringing up all your new things, I peeked in the box and paused.

“This hamster … he only has one eye.”
“Oh … uhhh … yeah …”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he just got in a little scuffle as a baby …”

I could tell the employee had been trying to hide that from me cause he just wanted to get you out of there. How many people want a one-eyed hamster, I guess. I fell in love with you instantly.

I walked you over to Waldbaums and called a cab. We sat on a bench and waited, you now in your cage. We politely informed the men at the exit that we were Hartford residents and therefore could not weigh in on Blue Back Square.

We’ve had many adventures and many cage changes. Remember when you bit Nate? You only did it once. Maybe you thought you were protecting me. I’ll never forget him finding your ball at the bottom of the stairs, either. I was horrified, but you were fine and had probably loved the trip down! Nate started letting you run around on the bed. I was convinced you’d escape, but you never did. That came later.

That night Carolyn pulled you out of the bag of flour! What a scare you gave us! We didn’t even know you were missing, so we thought you were a mouse!

Then there was that time that you were in the supposedly hamster-proof playpen. I came out into the living room just in time to see you perched at the top of the bars, ready to launch yourself off.

I missed you so much when I was in the hospital, little guy. The first night I was home, I was hanging out on the couch and Nate brought you out to visit me. I felt so much better just petting you. You were so soft!

Hearing you run in your wheel every night was comforting. I’ve missed it this summer, between the fans and the air conditioning. I’m sorry I never got to hear it again.

Hope you enjoyed us as much as we enjoyed you. We’ll never forget you.