Hell of a Guy



I just got back to my room at the Embassy Suites at the airport in St. Louis.  Three 23-ounce beers and a little dinner and I am a tad melancholy and have a desire to write.  Today, being the seventh anniversary of one of the saddest days in American history has left me in this state of mind. 

Perhaps all of us remember very vividly exactly what we were doing at that time on that very sad day; I sure do!  This afternoon when I got back to my hotel, after a not so exhausting day on the job, I donned my treadmill attire and headed for the Exercise Room.  I don’t recall what news program was on the TV but I was immediately immersed in the remembrances of 9-11 in New York City, the Pentagon and Shanksville, PA.  It hit me very hard, and while some of the others in the room may have thought I was wiping perspiration from my face, I was not.  This is an emotional day for many of us.  I know it is for me, especially when I think of all of those who gave up their lives seemingly for nothing of their choosing.

If you have read this before then I know you know I believe I am fully responsible for what happens to me in my life.  I accept this and wholeheartedly believe it.  And, I believe it to be true of others.  This is tough to accept by most people.  I believe that my death will come at a point in this life I choose long before it ever began, and, moreover, I believe it of all of us.  That make me weird?  It may, but it’s my story and I am sticking with it.  Nonetheless, today, 9-11-08, gave me pause to think, to cry, to be joyful and thankful.

And that is all I have to say about that…


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