11 September .. Six years later

There are points in our lives that we remember. For many, the point is specific. It's a part of their own, personal history. For some, it could be the first time you got drunk; the first car you ever had; the first time you scored a touchdown, threw a complete game, or came that close to breaking a record in freestyle. they're important moments in our lives, and ones we'll reflect on until the day we die.

I remember where I was on that Tuesday morning. I was just about to turn in -- spent all night thinking and writing, if you can believe that at that point in my life -- and had decided to see what was on the news.

Imagine my surprise ....

I sat that as events unfolded. I cried for those that survived -- the ones who had escaped death at the hands of an unseen, unknown enemy at the time. Then the anger rose, and I knew -- before any of the dust had settled on the day -- that this nation was, once again, going to war.

War isn't an easy decision to make. You know that lives will be put on the line; they will be at stake in the worst ways imaginable. You know that husbands, wives, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters -- fellow Americans -- were going to be going into harm's way. They were being called upon to take up the ultimate sacrifice again, and shine -- defending this nation against her enemies. We can argue over the theaters. We can argue over whether it was right. For the next fifty years the scholars of history will debate that point for hours upon hours on end.

Let them.

We did what we had to do to protect this nation. Not for glory. Not for banners. Not even for "king and country." We did it to preserve our way of life. We did it to save it. Our enemy abhors us for what we hold so dear; what the founders of this nation fought for against a tyranny they, too, found abhorrent. But in their day, the king wasn't demanding their ultimate and complete obedience to an outdated idea. That idea was that we were infidels because we didn't see the world through their eyes, in their way, and by their rules.

So yes, we went to war, and we did so with good reason. Question it, argue, it, build a case against it, but it can't be denied now. We're in it, and like it or not this nation will act to defend itself, it's ideals, and it's people -- it's very soul -- against an enemy that seemingly lacks one. Or, at least the reason to understand that their beliefs or their methodology is sincerely flawed. That's not meant to bag on Islam. We wouldn't do that. But the ideology embraced by our enemies is a bloodthirsty one that has plagued the world once before, and it's time for the nation, again, to stand up and say "never again."

Some nations miss this point, and that's likely why they're as plagued by radical Islam as they are. We won't tolerate it here, provided we have the same steadfast leadership that we've had since 11 September 2001. I remember that day like no other. (OK, I'll bite; I remember my wedding day vividly, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.) But you get the point, or at least I hope you do. It was one of the defining moments of my life, and forced me to get off the sidelines, and get into the game. We have a nation to keep safe and secure, and one side here doesn't give a rip. I do. We do. and we're not going anywhere.

So, as I reflect on this day, I'll remember those that lost the chance to continue their lives, with their families or their great careers. I'll miss not seeing some of their potential achievements. I'll still cry for those families that are missing the empty spot at the dinner table. Most of all, today should be a reflection. Not on the war, and not on the petty things of the day. It should be a reflection on where we are, where we were, and where we're going. Most importantly, it should be ourselves looking at the world around us, and asking if we're doing what we should be doing. Doing what we really want to do. Today should be a day where we reflect on ourselves, and take a hold of the dreams we had in honor of those who can't dream ever again.

Publius II