Marking this Day

[Urbane Guerrilla]

What did I do? I started by pulling an all-nighter last night watching the coverage of the remembrances. Don't worry, I got some sleep in the afternoon. My American flag went up, half-staff, from oh-dark-thirty until twenty-dark-thirty.

We had a special ecumenical service of remembrance at my church, with Episcopal, Lutheran, Baha'i, Moslem, Jewish, and Mormon clergy. We heard English, Spanish, Arabic, and Hebrew spoken, intoned, sung.

Deeming it a good thing to defend innocents from terrorists getting rude, I attended the service carrying a concealed pistol, cocked, locked, full mag and one in the chamber, two more full magazines for reloads. Sure, a terrorist attack on or near our church was a remote possibility only, but do you know, a fella'd hate like hell to get that one wrong.

Had I a much greater anticipation of terrorists opening fire on us, I'd have toted my rifle, in addition. I mightn't have been the only one; I don't know, and will not ask, if I was the only one tonight who was heeled. Armed congregations have been seen before. Clergymen with a brace of pistols cased in a hollowed-out Bible have been seen before, too.

The unlikely eventuality did not eventuate, thanks be to God. Otherwise, I daresay I'd still be too busy to write these lines.