It's September Eleventh.  I started out my morning a bit melancholy; reading news stories saluting those who had fallen eight years ago.  Had it really been that long?  Strange sensations of feeling connected yet disconnected from that day and the path in which it has detoured all of our lives.

It wasn't until the date had really sunken in that I realized I wanted to and could properly honor the emergency teams in the presence of working firemen.  Today was the last day of the controlled burn that was happening down the street from my home. 

For about a year now I had been bemoaning this project that would obliterate an entire city block.  The owner of the land had determined that it was a lucrative decision to annihilate this block of bungalows and replace them with the increasingly popular live/work condos that are starting to pop up in the area. 

I've been told that I have a problem with change.  This was certainly no exception.  Although the bungalows had all seen better days, I felt for them.  They had histories, they had hearts... even boarded up for months they looked a bit proud in their defeated states. My final hope for them was that at the very least their turn of the century fixtures were removed and donated so there would be some memento to send into the future.

I went down to watch the fires smolder through a couple of the houses.  The fire crews seemed a bit somber.  I knew the significance behind today's date was etched into each one of their thoughts as they safely practiced their profession.  In a twist of the moment, I realized that the sacrifice of this block was not just sad now, but so much more poignant because of the date. 

This was reminder that structures will come and go, but humanity, civility and the will to survive lives on.

Today, watching those crews, effected me more than the past seven years of nine elevens.  Thank you to all of the past and present members of society who have decided to take their lives into their own hands in hopes of saving us all.