The following is a selection of edited responses to our call for readers' recollections of Sept. 11, 2001. For space reasons, we were not able to print all of the submissions.
WASHINGTON -- The legacy of 9/11 can't be fully measured even now, but perhaps the most damaging aspect can be found in our national discourse.
I spent Sept. 11, 2001, as much of the world did: on the Internet, sharing in the global outpouring of shock and grief. I will never forget the juxtaposition of the ruined skyscrapers against an appalling blue sky. Americans of all backgrounds queued to give blood, to donate, to enlist in an imminent war. Others sought ways to serve at home through national service.
I am a daily reader of The Dispatch. I am a Starkville native as well. For years, I have heard about Columbus being the birthplace of Tennessee Williams. I have never drawn an interest to finding out who he was until recently when I saw your frontpage headline with his picture.
An earthquake on the East Coast. Hurricane Irene. What's next? And are we prepared for it? What we didn't see much of on the national news, as the aftermath of the latest natural disasters flashed across the screen, was disaster-management strategy.
It's budget season for counties and municipalities. They have until Sept. 15 to adopt a budget. And we've watched as they divvy out the dollars and cents in an attempt to balance their budgets before the deadline.
The Fall looks to be an exciting season for the Mississippi University for Women. Unlike past years, there isn't much controversy surrounding MUW. The contentious proposals to merge the W with Mississippi State or to change its name are sidelined for now. The epic battle between past president Limbert and the alumni association, which climaxed when Limbert disassociated the university from the alumni association and started a new one, is over. After a herculean effort by Interim President Allegra Brigham, the united Alumni Association appears to be working well and focused on the W's future.
The moon vine in the backyard has entwined the empty chicken coop and is now launching an assault on the Mexican petunia next to it. The vine's large blooms are white and diaphanous, like tissues left on a make-up table in the dressing room of a Broadway star.
A recent trip to Young's DayCare brought back memories of my first book. Young's has a special place in my heart because of my daycare days, so being there always makes me a little nostalgic. What's more, my father and I were there to volunteer for the local affiliate of "First Books," a national organization dedicated to improving access to books for low-income children. Accordingly, the nostalgia reminded me of when I didn't like to read.
We consider public safety a right, not a privilege. We expect to be able to walk down the street without being assaulted and to come home to our undisturbed portion of the world -- everything just the way we left it.
I wandered over to the pool this weekend looking for relief from the heat. But as I looked into the deep end and contemplated the cold shock that would accompany my leap into the water, I noticed a bright yellow tulip poplar leaf floating on the surface.