September 10, 2002 – It is about 10 p.m. Martin is already asleep.
I stayed up later, totally intent on working on the newspaper. However, I grew bored/restless/distracted and I spent the last twenty minutes playing computer solitaire and freecell. Gizmo is stretched out on the floor next to my chair. Of our cats, he’s the most faithful. He’s more like a dog in that way. He anwers to his name, and always seems to be right around the corner, checking up on us.
Earlier this evening, I made chocolate chip cookies with both dark and white chocolate chips.
Up until then, I didn’t really think about the anniversary, and considered it another work day. I’ll remember, of course, but life has moved on for me. Now, I’m anxious. A few days ago, German officials found two Germans conspiring to plant a bomb on Heidelberg barracks. The one German actually worked on base. It is not the Islamic fundamentalists I’m worried about … it’s about the nameless pukes who only want the noteriety who would do anything to get it. Mail hate letters. Bring guns to school. Plant bombs on military installations. The paranoia is nuts, but I guess each generation has it’s own.
I immediately called my father at Wright Patterson and just as quickly, I had to go as soon