This day of the year, I think of my friend Muriel. She passed away three years ago, unexpectedly - despite the fact that she was in her old age. I met her in 1999, in San Diego. She was a fellow artist at the co-op gallery I belonged to. Muriel was one of those amazing elderly ladies that just had so much LIFE in her, it was hard to believe that she was in her 80s. She was also an amazing fiber artist, and could find an artistic use for the stuff that most of us overlook. Like bottle caps and old bricks. She was fun and funny, but wise; when she told a story, you stopped to listen, because you knew you were going to hear something important, maybe even life changing.
On this date in 2001, Muriel's son, Gerald, was killed at the Pentagon.
I don't generally watch 'memorial' or 'anniversary' type television broadcasts, but each year, when all the stations are doing 9/11 memorials, I watch. I watch until I either read or hear Gerald's name.
It's a simple, little thing that I do every year. I do this for my friend Muriel.