Decades later

This piece was published elsewhere in 2021.

Twenty years ago I was living in small town Virginia, a fish out of water. An atheist gay liberal who'd just graduated from a fancy Northeast liberal college. It was my day off, but I went into the newsroom that morning (I was a crime reporter for the paper) for obvious reasons.

It was true that a lot of rural Virginians didn't know what to do with someone like me. The constant questions about when I was "going to get married" really irked me.

But I also didn't know what to do with my new neighbors, and I was as small-minded about them.

I remember complaining about all the volunteer firefighters flying FDNY flags, and proclaiming about the brotherhood of the fallen in New York. It seemed fake to me, given how much fun Southerners made of anyone from Yankeeland, especially from New York City.

But I sold these people short. I didn't have room in my mind to understand that these people really did drop everything and jump in, putting aside culture war differences to help others in a tragedy.

I wish I could take back the ranting and complaining I did back then. It wasn't fair to the decent people I was criticizing.

Back then, I didn't believe that anyone really cared for values like patriotism, brother/sisterhood, and the well-being of fellow Americans.

The problem wasn't them, it was me. Twenty years changes a lot. What I'd give to see more of that brotherly, patriotic spirit I couldn't accept or understand then.