Here's another post from Gill.
Over the last couple of days a song by Allan Jackson has floated around my head like a raft on a stormy lake. I am uncertain of the title, but it goes "where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?`
On That Day
In 2001 I was 21-years-old, and living here in Hamilton, I was engaged to be married, and feeling old before my time. I slept in that morning, and awoke at eight-forty-six unaware of events outside my room let alone in the world at large. I went about my have-to-dos, all the while semi-noticing that there was a quiet heaviness around me. I also was starting to be in the grips of a migraine headache.
New York Is Burning
Like I said my day was plotting its course, and my migraine was trailing along like an annoying sibling. My intended burst through my apartment door to let me know that something horrible had happened. At first I didn't believe him, because he had been known to tell stories, but when I changed stations later, I realized he was telling the truth.
I broke the engagement, moved to another suburb of Hamilton, and am happy to say my life has plotted out a different and better course.
So to quote the song, where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Ms. Gillie off for now