The two hours I was not glued to the tube Tuesday were spent grocery shopping. I wasn't surprised that people in the store had the same, private, non-commital look on their faces I usually see. But this time they weren't really there energetically. I usually pick up on people's general feelings -- "oh, he's happy cuz he's in love" or "she's despondent because her daughter's out of control" or whatever. But I couldn't read anybody yesterday, as if Scotty engineered personal battle shields for us all. But it was even weirder at the checkout. The checker asked in his normal, cheerful tone, "How are you doing today?" like as if the soul of our country, the symbols of the freedom too many of us unfortunately take for granted had NOT just been torn from our collective rib cage. When I responded that I wasn't sure, that today is a very strange day, he looked at me like a confused puppy with his head cocked to one side. Upon leaving he then, preposterously, told me to "have a great day!" I walked into the summer heat on rubber band legs.
Last updated: 09/15/01