9/11 has always had special connotations.
For the Chilean in me can never forget the world that I lived in that started 9/11/73 with all the violence from both sides, most of which I was insulated from because of my dad and his job (he was a civilian teacher at the Air Force Academy) or maybe because politics was never a subject discussed at home.
I remember reading over the people who disappeared or were killed from either side of the political fence.
I remember the stories of one of my college profs who spoke about the hideous results of torture.
I remember watching Death and The Maiden, the original theatrical run in Chile and thinking that it was all fiction, it wasn't until years later when I heard people talk about similar experiences and realized that it might not be all fiction after all.
I remember being on the streets in 1993, the glass falling over me from broken windows overhead how ammonia in a handkerchief is the perfect way to combat tear gas before it renders you useless, trying to move a car among the masses of people walking around it, and some trying to turn us over to stop the cops as they were chasing them.
I will never forget where I was 15 years ago... we were getting ready for a video conference at De Anza when someone pointed to CNN and what was happening at that time. It is also sad to see how ugly, bad and vicious the world has turned into because of this.
I know, I know... there will be violence regardless of the external causes. Hate and fear always have easier and more fertile grounds than love and compassion. But we've become callous, colder towards and distant from each other.
We all take refuge in what makes us different rather than embrace that which brings us together... and that makes me sad.