I read a charming article this week by Salena Zito in the Washington Examiner.
The one and only Joseph Biden zipped off to Pittsburgh to drop off some pizzas at a firehouse and then deliver a 12-minute speech, parts of which were intended to be used as material for campaign ads.
Salena Zito took the same trip by car along the highways and byways of Pennsylvania, heading west, writing of what Biden could have seen had his staff decided to drive: the rolling farmlands of Lancaster county, the Harley Davidson plant in York, the famous Gettysburg, coffee shops, ice-cream parlours and political signs from the competing campaigns. Taking a journey by road means can you can stop and connect with people.
In an age of infection, and frankly more fear than infection, a luxury in addition to being politically useful.
Along the way to Pittsburgh, Biden may have passed the Flight 93 memorial in Somerset County.
It is approaching 19 winters since the events of September 11th. A lot of water has flowed under the bridges of Madison County as well as the bridge spanning those turbulent waters.
Who even remembers anymore?
We no longer mention Al-Qaeda, ISIS is fading in memory as well. Socially, we are slaves to this moment where revolutionary movements try to maintain their momentum beyond what is natural. Kenosha, Portland, Rochester and whatever place will be next.
9/11 is pretty much forgotten. News cycles are born, live and die.
Call me old fashioned though, because 9/11 is still like a scar, where my fingers check in the flesh what I know is there in the memory. I remember. I remember Flight 93, and Todd Beamer and the heroes of that flight in a desperate effort to re-assert a measure of control.
A day when the whole world mourned with America but then moved on.
Except I didn’t really. I still remember and a flag rests on my desk.