Yes, I know what day today is.
Last year I wrote about my memories of the day, from a very different time in my life: The Other Twins
I am a New Yorker, near life-long (stints in Massachusetts and California notwithstanding).
Growing up, as a teen, this was my city:
|Twin Towers from NY Harbor, circa 1975|
But this post is not about that.
All week long (and note it's only Tuesday) I've kept wanting to call this "Hell Week" but then I take pause; don't want to imbue my whole week with negativity.
There are moments of grace, here and there, amidst the jaws of the pressure vise clamping down upon me. There are still, always, the large and small people I love, who love me; around me constantly, asking for and offering hugs and delightful conversation.
There are good things going on that I haven't had time to write about; a post, half-written, about Jacob's spontaneous "why" question this summer, languishing in my blog queue.
Today, after moving my parents sofas, beat-up coffee table (which was still in better shape than our old beat-up coffee table) and assorted boxes of sundry into our already cramped tiny apartment, I ran off to Brooklyn for the initial "Impartial Hearing" in our annual suit against the Board of Ed to get Jacob's school paid for.
Then I had to rush back into Manhattan to pick up Ethan and take him to his annual check-up, while constantly checking in with Danny to see how Jake's first bus ride home from school this year was going. (Imagine LOTS of texts that read: "Still not here yet. Bus Co. not answering phone.")
And the fact that I haven't been able to get out to Long Island to see my mother for a week, being too busy doing things FOR her instead? A constant twenty pound guilt-weight in my heart.
But, last night? I got to participate in a wonderful online conversation (as a community "Google Hangout" guest) about being a member of the "Sandwich Generation" on the Huffpost Live channel. If you missed it the archived show is here: Sandwich Generation on Huffpost Live.
So instead of complaining unilaterally, and damning this week, I will, instead, quote "This is Spinal Tap" to use my favorite silly metaphor for over-the-top-ness and say "This one goes to eleven." (Hear it with a bad fake British accent in your mind, that's how it works best.)
That number completely appropriate for this day, the 11th anniversary of 9/11.
(And if you have no idea what I'm talking about with my "Spinal Tap" reference? Watch this:)