When my husband and I visited my hometown for Labor Day, it was a trip up to Ohio but down memory lane. We drove so I could clean out my parents’ garage, a task I’ve put off since moving to Florida 14 years ago.
It’s held two decades-worth of my belongings since well before then, unshippable boxes and bins full of comic books, action figures and forget-me-nots that I’d mostly forgotten about. I was certain 98% of it was garbage but knew finding the 2% worth driving to Florida would be an undertaking.
There was so much more junk than I expected. What my family had in love we often lacked in funds, and growing up my parents usually went without to make sure I could go with, so I think it led me to hold onto whatever material objects I could for as long as possible. For too much of it, that meant around 36 years.
As an adult it’s easier for me to let go of things, though my husband might argue not enough of them, so I committed to downsizing whenever I had the opportunity. Our long overdue visit was a labor of love and Lysol.
If we weren’t making new memories – whether it was introducing my husband to family who couldn’t travel to Florida for our wedding or enjoying a drag show with my sister for the first time – I was in the garage with my old ones.
It was a lot of cringing at love letters and admiring how indestructible Happy Meal toys are. Apologies to Mother Earth.
Among the other “treasures” I found were copies of The Torch, my much more biodegradable high school newspaper. I helped found it as a freshman and ran it as a senior, my first foray into journalism that launched a lifetime love for the craft.
They weren’t the only newspapers I discovered. Over the years I’ve saved issues detailing historical moments, from the death of Princess Diana to the election of President Obama.
On Sept. 5, I found my long-buried copy of The Cincinnati Post from Sept. 12, 2001. Above the fold and atop an image of a crumbling World Trade Center was the word “TERROR,” with “Evidence points to bin Laden” not far below it.
One section promised to detail George W. Bush’s response while another noted airports were closed. A few pages were filled with images from the scene and “America prays” closed out the issue. It was a chilling read.
A week later, back in Florida, the nation mourned the 20-year mark of 9/11. The internet was flooded with memes dedicated to 9/12/01 as folks reflected on how the country changed in the tragedy’s aftermath.
“I would never ever want another 9/11, but I miss the America of 9/12,” one of the viral posts begins.
“Stores ran out of flags to sell because they were being flown everywhere,” it continues. “People were Americans before they were upper or lower class, Jewish or Christian, Republican or Democrat. We hugged people without caring if they ate at Chick-Fil-A or wore Nikes. On 9/12, what mattered more was what united us, than what divided us.”
9/11 was a tragedy no human should ever downplay or deny and I think the sentiment comes from a positive place. But that isn’t an America that I remember.
I was an awkward sophomore on the verge of coming out at the time, inherently an “other” in at least that regard. I remember understandable shock, sadness, anger and fear, but also my introduction to new types of hate.
I remember my history teacher spewing anti-Muslim propaganda in class, and getting in trouble for speaking out against it. Those of us who are “others” have to stick together.
I may not have experienced the idealized 9/12 so many Americans on social media recall, but I can respect the longing for it. I just hope anyone who lived it feels compelled to do the work required to make sure it exists today, for everyone.
The National Transgender Visibility March is one organization working to build a more inclusive future. The organization will hold its third outing during Come Out with Pride on Oct. 9, which we detail in this issue.
In news, we examine the 50th anniversary of MCC Tampa and detail Tampa Pride’s inaugural Pride on the River. Equality Florida and more also endorse Ken Welch as the next mayor of St. Petersburg while in Central Florida, Rep. Carlos Guillermo Smith’s lawsuit against Florida takes on new life.
In Arts and Entertainment, Orlando celebrates the Gay 90s. We also blast off with Jobsite Theater in Tampa for the regional premiere of “Dr. Ride’s American Beach House.”
Watermark strives to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. Please stay safe and enjoy this latest issue.
