September 11, 2006

I‘ve been thinking today, like I’m sure you have been, about that September morning five years ago. That terrible day when so much changed about the way we live our lives, how we see the world as Americans and how the world sees us. I don’t think I can add much to the tributes, the remembrances, the memorials and this honestly probably isn’t the place to try. But I think we at the Kansas City Irish Fest would be remiss as an organization not to at least acknowledge our shared pain and loss, still so fresh after 5 years.

Remember where you were? I was brushing my teeth when I heard. It was a Tuesday, a work day, though no work was done. I came to work, because I didn’t know what else to do. We sat here in the studio in silence watching that terrible day inch forward on live television. After the first tower fell, I left and went to be with my family, because I didn’t know what else to do. I passed gas stations with lines of panicked people snaking around the blocks and wondered why in the world people were thinking about gas. It surprises me a little after five years how easily the feelings of that day come back, feelings now added to and complicated by all that’s happened since. And it saddens me how futile it is to try and remember how September 10th five years ago felt, before everything changed. I read a very small item buried in the paper the other day that said US troop deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan have now exceeded the number of people killed in the attacks on 9/11/2001 and that made 9/10/2001 seem even further away. It makes it hard not to despair sometimes over what the world’s become.

In light of the events of that day five years ago some people might see what we do at Irish Fest as a little silly and inconsequential. Probably it is, both of those. But I think what I love best about Irish Fest is that it’s a celebration of being here, of community, of life and possibility and of the good will in all of us. The fact that there’s still a place for silliness and celebration and festivals means very simply that this “war on terror” was never really a war at all. Because we’ve already won. The fact that we’re still here, that nearly 70,000 of us gathered a few days ago for a big Irish hooley means we won. And that we’re planning to do the whole silly, inconsequential thing all over again next year means we won. It was never even a fight. Because we can’t lose.

From the Kansas City Irish Fest to all of you who lost someone that day...and that's all of us...our prayers and heartfelt condolences on this sad anniversary.