On a clear Saturday afternoon, not unlike the weather on September 11, 2001, I took in a matinee of United 93. Though I went by myself -- my wife was out of town and I took her absence as an opportunity to go -- I wasn't alone. There were approximately a dozen of us in the theater, and almost everyone there came by themselves.
Perhaps it was the fact that the usual movie partners of those who were in attendance all felt the same way that my usual movie partner, my wife, feels: It's too soon. Too soon to drudge up all those memories. Too soon to feel the way we all felt almost five years ago (that is to say, those of us that had no personal connection to the events, for those that did have a whole other set of feelings on the matter).
But the fact that people are trying to forget what happened on that day means that the film comes at exactly the right time. Emotional detatchment from the events of that day can only lead to complacency. A very September 10th-like complacency.
It would be impossible to expect our nation to maintain a September 12th-like vigilance, but as I exited the theater amongst the sniffles and murmurs of those who had seen the film, a plane flew overhead. I looked up and couldn't help but wonder if the passengers of the flight looked around their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary before take-off.
Hopefully, we never forget.
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