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Don't we all have relatives or friends who insisted, for years, on telling their own somewhat-less-than-impressive 9/11 stories at dinner parties, about how they'd been in the Trade Center themselves – in 1989; or how they'd watched CNN and felt that something awful was happening and called their husbands at work – in Chicago. If we're honest, we'll admit that many of us have those stories ourselves. We cling to them, in a slightly undignified but somehow understandable wish to feel connected to the defining event of our time. To share in the plot line, just as we shared in the grief, to be part of something bigger than ourselves. (it) |
