I am not a morning person, but I got up earlier than usual today to pack my lunch and pick up doughnuts on my way to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I was there for a workshop on training and pruning climbing roses and I’ll bring doughnuts to meet a new group of people any chance I get. It was a gorgeous day and the class was mostly outside pruning the roses along the arc at the end of the Cherry Esplanade. There were about a dozen of us, from all over the city, and I was one of the youngest. Some people curated roses in other botanic gardens and a couple of others were novices like me.
When we broke for lunch someone brought up how happy she was to be spending September 11th this way. We all agreed. “I was so glad when I saw this class on the schedule,” I said. “The reading of the names and the ringing of the bells is so depressing. It’s not like anyone who lived through that day is ever going to forget it.” Another said it might be one thing if there was construction going on, but the way things are all the fanfare is a sad reminder that no real renewal has been accomplished.
One of my friends in California put “Happy 911” as his facebook status today. My reaction? “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I’m not saying there is a right way to remember this day. I guess I don’t think it’s something you wish someone happiness over. I do take pride in our perseverance, but I guess I thought we’d be further along by now.