Nearly every flag I saw today was at half-mast. I always twitch a bit at incorrect flag etiquette so that small detail stood out. I can't think of another holiday when everyone remembers to honor our flag.
We all have our small personal memories, juxtaposed against the nearly universal impressions we all share. One image stands out for me: going to my daughter's soccer game that first Saturday, everyone still reeling from shock and pain, yet trying to maintain some normalcy for the children. In the middle of the soccer fields, one coach had brought the flag from his home, and stuck the flag pole into the ground next to his lawn chair. It flew in the wind as the kids played their games, one small reminder that nothing would ever be the same again.
A few weeks before we were attacked, I took my daughter to "interview" my 80 year old great aunt about her memories of WWII. When she talked about Pearl Harbor, her eyes filled with tears. I've always imagined that's the way we will be, always one question away from being taken back to exactly how we felt when we watched it unfold.
My heart goes out to everyone who lost someone they loved on that horrible day. And my heart goes out to all of us too, for what we lost then as well.
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