FAMILY: September 2007 Archives

Shhhh. 9-11.

‘Never forget.’ Remember that?

In a day when the populous is herder about by shepherds wearing no underwear, I doubt many do. Sure, they remember the number. Most children can dial it. Hell, it’s almost become nostalgic to lament on ‘where you were’ etc., but few will tell you exactly ‘what’ they recall.

Shhh.

Keep it to yourself.

Just don’t forget that number. 9-11. I think we’re all in agreement on that. Today, we’ll all stand together quietly and recall. Take that minute of silence at work and remember.

What? Your place of work didn’t have one?

Huh. Neither did mine. In fact, come to think of it, I went the entire day and not a soul even mentioned it. Barely a mention of it on the radio. Heard about Brittany at the MTV Music Awards. That was cool. But little of that days recorded radio traffic between firefighters (all dead) and those choking to death (all dead). Kind of ‘get’s in the way’ of Avril Levine I suppose.

But, you know what? My memory’s still pretty good.

Here’s what I remember.

I remember those that ‘cheered’ as my friends were incinerated or leaped to their deaths. (Shhh. Don’t say ‘Palestinian’.) Some leaped alone. Others hand in hand. It’s how we go through life after all, isn’t it? Alone, or hand in hand? Though I doubt but few of us have the courage to do it from the top of one of the tallest buildings in the world.

I remember the sound of unanswered cell phones ringing in the rubble. The scrambling of jets whose pilots had orders to shoot down planes filled with their neighbors. I remember the guy who told me, “You can’t say they didn’t have it coming.”

Ahh, yes. I remember him.

Only ‘I’ remember these things every time I forget to check my toothpaste at the airport (and they take it away.) I remember as I watch the little old lady when she’s padded down and told to remove her shoes. Then of course, it’s hard to miss those who preach tolerance, but blame America when they get ‘pancakes’, instead of the greek omelet they ordered.

Now, I’d like to take the more prophetic road and note that those who choose ‘not’ to remember the throats slit that day, shall slice open their own. To watch them load up on matches, then lay upon their beds of hay. Usually, I’d let them go without a thought, except that I live in the apartment above them.

So instead… Instead, I think I’ll take my minute of silence and tune it to something else.

Rage.

I can spend the rest of the day in tribute. But for a minute… just minute. I will hate this day and those responsible. For to ‘not’ hate such a thing, is to remember nothing. And to not remember, is to be as dead as those who jumped from the 106th.

So, take your minute.

I took mine.

And if you’re so inclined, break out the Red, White and Blue. The Maple Leaf. Or just the family photo album. Flags come in many shapes and sizes. But take note, it’s just for today. Flag’s are fine, but tomorrow you’re best to take it down. Don’t want to offend anybody.

But today? Today it’s ‘cool’. Today, you can care.

Alone. Or, hand in hand.

My Dad is the coolest.

Remember Jack La Lanne? The great health and fitness guru? The God Father of fitness? If you don’t, you’re probably a little on the younger side, and that’s too bad. Because man, there was no better ambassador, nor done more for the ‘lifestyle of health’ than good ol’ Jack La Lanne.

Anyway, Jack’s birthday was last weekend and they held a GIANT party for him at Muscle Beach in Venice, California. Well, guess what (or who) was presented to Jack for his birthday? That’s right baby…

My Dad.

I’ll not go on and on about what an honor it is to be invited to do such a thing. But if you’re going to present a gift to a ‘legend’, then it had better be ‘legendary’. And in the world of natural body building (no drugs baby) I am incredibly proud to say that my father happens to be that very thing.

That said, forgive the shameless (but oh so proud) plug.

Check it out.

From the very beginning of it all, my dad was there. If you recall a little film that started quite the craze, Muscle Beach Party (with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello) then you may just recognize my dad as one of the beef cakes strutting the beach. In fact, if you see the album cover to the film, you will find my father holding Annette up on his shoulders along with Peter Lupus (Mission Impossible).

Anyway. Proud of you dad. Awesome job.

C.