Asking for some psychotherapy...

For the last few years when September 11th rolls around, I have an emotional reaction. Most of us do. But I'm in the unique position of overseeing a media outlet and deciding what level of attention the radio stations I program will give to this momentous day, so I suppose my reaction affects others in some way.

Candidly, I feel a sense of wanting to avoid talking about it. And I don't know why. It's not born of wanting to stick my head in the sand and pretend it didn't happen and that everything is ok. I know things are not ok, and I feel as though I'm keenly aware of the threat of Islamic terrorism in the world, though we've done a remarkable job of keeping it outside our shores and borders the past eight years.

But as I prepare for the Neal Larson Show today, I frankly don't want to spend a whole hour on it. Part of it is because so much of our national programming will focus on it. But a deeper part of this avoidance is because I don't have an appetite to keep talking about it. I don't want to see any more "burning WTC" images. I don't want to hear politicians make their remarks. I don't care to hear bagpipes or tearful rememberances. The yearly ritual of having ceremonies seems intrusive to me. I crave normalcy, and 9/11 is an affront to normalcy.

And I feel guilty about that, because 3,000 people died that day, and hundreds more have died making sure it doesn't happen again. September 12th always seems now like a nice relaxing breather.

I remember 9/11 as though it happened yesterday. I remember where I was, who I was with, what we said, and how we reacted. I also remember the subsequent months of not quite feeling like the world was ever going to be the same, ever. Nine eleven put me out of sorts for quite a while. Whatever became normal after that, was a new normal, and a less desirable normal.

While today marks an important day -- it's Patriot Day for heaven's sake -- I'll, perhaps sadly, be spending most of my day looking forward to tomorrow's sunrise.