I rarely go to the movies anymore.  The cost and inconvenience have gotten the better of my judgement as my aging progresses.  I do, however, make the personal sacrifice at times for the sole desire of making my commercial contribution to projects I see as worthy of financial support.  So it was that I decided to go see "World Trade Center" last night.

The movie, in and of itself, is no blockbuster as movies go.  I would actually be quite surprised, especially given the way so many people recoil now at those images and any attempts at graphically reminding us of the events and aftermath of that day, that any mention of Oscars would be forthcoming.  During the movie, and since I have had a chance to sleep on it though, it has occurred to me that there is much we have forgotten.

I have watched this country go through an amazing metamorphosis in the months and years since 9/11.  Recall with me, if you will, all the experts that have come across the screen to tell us it hurt too much; that we needed to get those images out of public purview for fear that the continued traumatization it would render would be too much for us to withstand.

I find the dramatic lack of images, stories, books, movies, and the like utterly dumbfounding.  Remember, the first "real" theatrical recollections of 9/11 just barely came back to haunt us with the release of the movie "Flight 93" - 5 years hence.  While there have been documentaries here and there, we have for the most part been spared any "real", "in your face" reminders since November or December 2001.  Consider This IMAGE this for a moment:

And ask yourself if you remember how you felt when you saw it as it happened.  Did you feel anger, disgust, horror, or shock?  Did you find yourself teary-eyed, or outright weeping as you sat in front of the television screen as this unfolded?  Do you remember at this very moment how you felt that day; what you thought, who was with you, or where you were?

In the immediate political aftermath, members of both parties of Congress stood together, arm in arm at the steps of the Capitol and sang God Bless America.  Tom Daschle hugged George W. Bush; kissed him on the cheek in fact.  The members of both parties talked openly and frequently about being at war; about having been attacked and about coming together, showing our resolve, and facing, fighting, and defeating this enemy who had brought death and destruction to our soil.  Many an orator was heard railing against this affront; against the idea that America had somehow lost her innocence and had been drawn into a conflict that she had not initiated but that she would not shrink from.  Our defining moment, like it was on December 7, 1941, had been borne on this generation.

The patriotism, the call to duty, the rush from around the country to go to these scenes of death and devastation were like no other in our history.  People from all walks of life and manner of ability found their way to New York, and to Washington, and even the fields of Pennsylvania, to do what they could.  In honoring the sacrifice of the fallen passengers, innocents at the Pentagon and the Trade Centers, the firefighters and police officers, this country had an outpouring of grief, and sadness, and renewed courage and conviction like at no other time in our history.  We had been galvanized by a fundamental truth; we had been attacked, and from the ashes we would rise to seek vengeance and justice from those responsible.  We stood together and prayed as a Nation.

I remember, vividly, the scenes and images of those first few days after the attacks.  I remember it as clearly now as I did then. 

I remember how full to the brim I was with both sadness and anger, but I also remember the pride I felt in my country and her people as I watched the re-forming community that had been so lost among us.  I felt a renewed hope that perhaps, from the ashes, a better more whole country would arise; independent of the calls for vengeance, I had seen for the first time in my life a country that truly felt as "one", and I was comforted by what I saw.  While a war was in the making, we took time out to recover those we could, bury those who had died, help the ones who had survived, and honor the memory of the people, the victims, and the strength and courage of our people and our country.

AND, we took time out to remember who we were as a country, what being an American meant, and how fortunate we all were by the grace of God to be able to pick up the pieces and move ahead with what lay ahead for us as individuals and as a country.


As I left the movie theater though, I was brought painfully back to our 2006 reality.  We HAVE forgotten 9/11.  I don't suggest, as some, that we have forgotten the day or the events of the day.  Those political shots are just that; attempts to "own" 9/11 for political gain, and divide us again amongst the left versus right, liberal versus conservative, anti-war versus pro-war dimensions of America and her oft-times senseless and crazy political wrangling for power and party supremacy.  What we have forgotten is something more subtle than that. 

We have forgotten how it feels to be American, and be proud of it.  We have forgotten our neighbors and their children, forgotten our churches and our religions, forgotten our community, forgotten the feeling of pulling together in a crisis for the better good of us all;  forgotten the lessons learned on 9/11.  In our rush to heal and move on, we have pushed aside what effects 9/11 had on our sense of humanity, of right and wrong, of the value of human life and the importance of realizing that there are those in the world that would see every day be a 9/11 in America if only we continue to relax and forget, and pretend.  We have forgotten we have an enemy, and this enemy wants our America punished and destroyed for the very reasons that make us the nation we are; freedom, liberty, diversity of peoples and religions and beliefs and causes.

What lies ahead for us remains unclear.  We continue to fight a war half-heartedly.  We continue to capitulate to those who visited this death and destruction upon us.  We continue to seek ways to "get along" with an enemy we can't see, rather than destroy the ones we can't seem to be convinced are there.  We will continue to fall short of victory in any confrontations with our enemy as long as we debate amongst ourselves whether WE created the enemy or whether the enemy really exists but in our imagination.  And while we debate, and re-define, and capitulate, and cajole, our enemy grows stronger, and people around the world continue to die senseless deaths.

This, the greatest nation on earth deserves better.  Those who fell on 9/11 deserve better.  Those who have fought and died since 9/11 deserve better.  You and I, and the rest of the world that wants to live in peace to raise their children and grow old with their children's children deserve better.

Hezbollah, like any other Islamic group, joins the political democratic process and once they get what they want, they are the first to open fire on democracy. 

I came across THIS Blog the other day, through the MILBlogging website, and have been absolutely fascinated by it.  I cannot speak for the accuracy of it, nor can I assure anyone of it's legitimacy, but I can tell you that its contents are quite compelling and draw me to write today about their  25 July 2006 post "This blog can't be correct, I don't believe you!".


In that context, today's piece talks quite openly about the effects of the war on the every-day people.  He suggests, for example:


This is a must read, and if you follow the links inside today's post, you'll be taken to blogs from both the Lebanese AND the Israelis, trying to sort through all the chaos and understand just what the heck is going on and what needs to be done to get to a peaceful coexistence.  His final passage:

These were the words of Col. David Procopio(Ret.) as he eulogized his son, 2nd Lt. Mark J. Procopio , killed in Ramadi on 2 November, 2005.  The way in which I came by this quote, and the events that led to my having met Mark's sister Amy who has provided me with the details of her family and Mark's short, rich life and ultimate passing, can only be described as an act of God's divine intervention.


As a member of the Noble Duty MilBlogger Coalition , I was invited to spend the Independence Day weekend with 28 Army Soldiers and ride in the parade with them.  Mine was the job of taking pictures and trying to capture the essence of 24 hours in the life of a Soldier NOT living in an active Theater of Operations; to sit and visit, chat, learn of their lives and the experiences that brought them IN to the Military, and get some insight into why they WANT to go to Iraq and Afghanistan to fight for their country.  We had excellent meals, a beer or 3, and a great many of both tears AND laughter.  Their stories need to be told, and they will-but not today.

The parade was like any other; clapping and cheering spectators, kids, balloons, and paint adorning faces young and old.  I was very gratified to see so much support of the Military from the folks there.  People shouted out "thank you", "we're proud of you", "God bless you and keep you safe", and the like, and it struck me that this didn't square with what we hear all day long about the low poll numbers favoring the Troops and the war effort.  I was quite happy to see for myself that there really ARE thousands of cheering American supporters of our Men and Women in Uniform.  The Soldiers were in 2 vehicles (a humvee and a "deuce and a half") riding in front of us, and we rode in a bright red pickup truck with 3 big US flags waving off the tailgate.  We handed out little flags to the kids and anyone else interested, and gave out TMFF t-shirts to as many as we could that said they were Veterans.  It was a wonderful experience for me as I had never been IN a parade before.

As we got about half way through the parade route, Mrs. haystack noticed three women hugging each other and visibly crying together.  Julie, Director of the Texas Military Family Foundation jumped off the truck and approached them.  Then, she brought one of the women back to the truck and made her get on.  My wife, Julie, and this young lady (Amy) talked a moment, all three started crying and hugging, and Julie and Amy were off the truck again only this time they were loading Amy up onto the "deuce and a half" with the Soldiers.  Now, Amy is a small young lady, and she was immediately engulfed by these men and women on that truck.  They were instantly hugging, Amy crying, and she was lost in the mass of uniforms with arms around her.  She rode the rest of the parade in that truck, and we met and visited for a few minutes when everything had calmed down a little.

Amy, you see, lost her brother, 2nd Lt. Mark J. Procopio, to an IED in Ramadi on 2 November 2005.  Mark was loved and respected by everyone that knew him.  His loss was extremely difficult on his family and friends, yet like so many Gold Star families, they understood the risks, respected his decisions, supported him in the cause he felt so strongly about, and put their faith in God that Mark would go where God planned for him to go.  They knew as well that God would watch over him and would watch over his family and friends.  This is their comfort, and it gave them the strength to mourn then heal then move forward with their lives.  For Amy on the day of the parade, and for those she was with, memories of Mark in life, his pride in his uniform and in his service, and the memory of suffering his loss all seemed to come rushing back at them and they broke down with tears of both pride and sadness all at once.  You would have to live this yourselves to fully appreciate it; my only hope is that I have done justice to the attempt at expressing it here.

I vowed to Amy that day that I would tell Mark's story and the story of his family wherever I could find an ear (or an eye).  Those who know me understand how important it is to me that this global war against terrorism being fought in our stead by our collective sons and daughters be supported, and be waged with the full commitment to victory by those responsible for waging it.  This war is important, it has meaning and purpose for the future of humanity, and for the cost of the lives being given fighting it, it must be won.  2nd Lt. Mark J. Procopio shared my view.

Mark was born 12 May 1977 in Burlington Vermont to Col. David and Debra Procopio.  He loved Vermont, and he enjoyed the outdoors (and everything in it).  He attended Burlington High School, before attending the University of Vermont (settling on UVM after a few "investigatory" dry-runs at colleges elsewhere).  His father will tell you that a good first glimpse into Mark's personality and outlook on life appeared somewhere in late middle school.  Apparently Mark was too interested in the other, "more important" things in life and had been more than comfortable with being in the middle of the academic pack.  One day, somewhere around 7th or 8th grade:

Col. Procopio says of his son, however, that Mark had a plan; that he always had a plan, and the plan he had built and cultivated and worked towards when God called him home was "to experience all the great things that life has to offer, determine what was the best of those great things, then pursue them with a fearless determination".

Part of Mark's plan included joining the Mountain Battalion as an enlisted soldier, get into the ROTC at UVM, and be commissioned as an Infantry Officer.  Even though Col. Procopio (himself having served with distinguished service as a member of the Vermont National Guard culminating in being DCOS for Operations) tried to convince him to consider other branches because there was a line for getting Lieutenant slots in the Mountain Battalion.  Mark persisted and ultimately achieved these goals.  While working through his ROTC training, however, his plans got adjusted a little bit.

While at the UVM ROTC, Mark distinguished himself as an outstanding leader and, from the first day, as a mentor to his fellow cadets.  It was here that Mark first met Erika Gilman.  Erika graduated from UVM as an ROTC cadet in 2003 (Mark would follow in 2004), and during Mark's senior year he and Erika married.  Mark's father tells us that, while Mark was "always fairly smooth and confident with the girls", there was something different about him after he met Erika.  With Erika, he was not his old, usual confident bouncy self; Erika seemed to make him stumble around like a lost puppy when they first met and started dating.  Mark tried to convince his father that Erika was THE one, and it didn't take the family very long to figure out that he was right.  Erika and Mark both felt the other was their soul-mate, and they lived and loved each other that way for all of the short time God had given them.

Following outstanding Advanced Course evaluations by both Mark AND Erika, they were commissioned with the Vermont National Guard as Second Lieutenants.  After Mark completed the Officer Basic Course at Ft. Benning, GA, he returned to Vermont to serve as a Platoon Leader with Alpha Company of the 3rd Battalion, 172nd Infantry(Mountain) Battalion of the Vermont Army National Guard.  2nd Lt. Mark J. Procopio deployed with his unit to Iraq as part of Task Force Saber in June 2005.

Mark had lots of friends.  One such friend, Matt Bunting (Publisher, Director of Business Development at the Regional High School Varsity Online Sports Magazine) wrote a tribute to Mark after his passing.  It is one of the most compelling I have ever read.  In it, Matt describes Mark from "his" experience(s):

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Amy graciously and generously shared with me a few emails Mark sent, and in these letters we get a glimpse of what Iraq was like for him; what the experience of deploying in general was like for him:


In a letter sent to Marines associated with the downed helicopter and the two pilots Mark died trying to reach, protect, and save if possible, a Sgt. Major shares the reflections of six soldiers, including Mark's Battalion Commander and Company Commander, who commented on Mark at the memorial they gave him before his remains were shipped back to the states and his family:


Col. Procopio, as he eulogized his son, recounted the events that led up to the death of 2nd. Lt. Mark J. Procopio:

Mark is survived by his Mother and Father Debra and Col. Procopio, his loving wife, 1st Lt. Erika Procopio, his close sister Amy Beirne, her husband Craig and their two daughters Kayla and Abigail, his maternal Grandparents Gerald and Joan LaTulippe, his paternal Grandmother Joan Procopio, and numerous cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and dear close friend.  He is also survived by hundreds of past graduates of the UVM ROTC Dept. as well as those young cadets following in his footsteps.

Mark was awarded the Bronze Star for Valor, the Bronze Star Medal, Purple Heart, Meritorious Service Medal, Army Reserve Component Achievement Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Iraqi Campaign Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, Armed Forces Reserve Medal with M Device, Army Service Ribbon, Vermont Duty Ribbon, Vermont Distinguished Service Medal, the Vermont Veteran's Medal, the Combat Infantry Badge, and the Ram's Head Device.
On Mark's passing, Matt Bunting had this to say:




Mark's father closed his eulogy with his firm conviction that Mark remains with him and his loved ones in spirit.  They were close, as father and son should be, and especially close because of the relationship they shared with the US Military.  Col. Procopio shared with the attendees that Mark sent HIM a transmission after his passing.  He tells of an order Mark surely issued AFTER the one that sent the troops around the canal, and off to the only alternate route his team had available to get at the crashed Marine helicopter; an order he issued to his father.  I close this story of Mark's life and his passing with the Col.'s words: