September 2004 Archives

For Catherine and Sarah:

Another birthday flower. (I would've given each of you your own, but I was afraid one of you would think I was calling you a nag. :)

Much love,
Rachel

Happy Birthday to Jo Ann, and many happy returns.

Much love,
Rachel

My friend PJ told me the other day that she's decided to reclaim the American flag as her own. She mentioned this as we sat in my office, a substantial American flag (my officemate's) hanging behind me.

"I'm tired of my flag being co-opted and made to represent people who I disagree with," she said. "I'm tired of it meaning something it wasn't supposed to mean. I want to embrace everything my flag stands for."

In some ways, it seems like a lifetime since that beautiful September morning when our world changed, but still the pain, though dulled by time, feels raw, inflamed by violence and war and conflict.

There's nothing like an election year to galvanize Americans, but this year seems more volatile than most. The flag has come to mean "those who are with us," with the implied sense that "those who are against us" aren't worthy to fly it or display it. If that's what America looks like united, then I dread ever seeing it divided.

But today is not the day for me to wax political. I mention the flag not to villanize it or those who would claim it, but to remind myself of those days that followed the world-altering morning three years ago, before countries were invaded, before bombs were detonated, in which people joined together to begin to mend what was broken.

I, too, am ready to reclaim my flag.

At work, several of us have begun using iTunes to share our music with others around the office. I've got 3.2 days of music in my library -- far more than anyone could conceivably sort through easily -- so I put together a playlist for the benefit of those who might peruse what I'm sharing. It's hardly complete -- more of a work in progress, really -- but CY asked me to post it. Look at me, using a table. It's for tabular data, I swear.

Dear Lloyd,

I'm very sorry for your loss. I've read your words, each tribute to your mother over the last few months with growing heartache but with ever-increasing admiration for the love and faith that your family has demonstrated during these difficult times.

I have no words better than the ones that Catherine has already shared, but please know that your mother was an inspiring individual, even for some of us who were never privileged to meet her.

All I have to offer is this, a photo I captured during the long drive home from New Orleans to Austin. I spent a lot of the trip thinking of you and of your mother, and the rainbow, the band of magical sunlight surrounded by gray stormy clouds, seemed meaningful somehow.

All the best to you and your family,
Rachel