All Things Considered

I'm sticking to my goal of getting my essays out there.  Actually, I should say I'm sticking to my goal of trying to get my essays out there.  I'm going to submit the commentary below to public radio's show called All Things Considered.  If it's not chosen, my plan is to send them something every week until something is.

 

Kissy Monster

She was called Kissy Monster by her nephews because of how she covered them with kisses whenever she saw them.  She was killed in the 9/11 terrorist attacks.  I don’t know what her real name was and I can’t even remember where I read the tribute to her, but as I read it last year I shivered with grief for her and the thousands of others who lost their lives that horrific day.  I pictured her nephews squealing with laughter as their energetic aunt wrapped her arms around them and they squinted their eyes as the kisses landed. 

I don’t know anyone who died in the attacks, not even a friend of a friend who died, but every year on the anniversary, I think about the typical, everyday people who were going about their lives as they always did until life stopped abruptly that day.  People were going to work, dropping their kids off at school, running errands to check off their to-do lists.   This seemingly ordinary, mundane life is what ties us all together.  It is exactly what Kissy Monster and everyone else was up to that day 11 years ago.

For me, 9/11 is a day to be grateful for the glorious ordinariness of life. My life is filled with routines as tedious as paying bills, breading chicken, and fighting road rage.  When my head hits the pillow I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever leave a mark on this world in any extraordinary way, but it has occurred to me that each of us makes a mark.  This humdrum drudgery is no drudgery at all.  It is the precise heartbeat of life and how we maneuver our way through the ordinariness is what lingers in the minds of those left behind long after we’re gone. 

Instead of wondering if I’m leaving a mark, my goal is to ask myself if I was a good Kissy Monster.  Did I engulf my family with love and laughter? Did I reach out to friends and hold them close? Did I happily invite the wonderful ordinariness of life or did I drag my heels complaining that I’m nothing spectacular?

I was reminded of this today as I left the house and my family came running up to me screaming, “HUGS!” and I doled out my usual dose of “love bolts” which consists of holding my chest up to theirs and exuding sounds of electrical bolts shooting love into their chests.   I thought of Kissy Monster then and wished I knew her name.  Maybe one day my kids will give their kids love bolts.  I hope this more than I hope that I succeed in anything else I do in my life.