Journals

                       As America and the world remembers the events of 11 September, 2001, it  goes without saying that the anniversary will bring a wave of memorials and reawakened emotions. All across our face-space society a chorus of videos, pictures and status updates are sure to arise. No, none of us will ever forget where we were on that day. The images are ingrained in our collective conscience. We all know we all need no reminding. It is a day as much a part of us as the day we were born. Still, I believe we (meaning mostly me) fail to remind ourselves that 3,000 innocent lives perished on that day, not solely in the Twin Towers or on United Flight 93, but in the Pentagon and the planes as well.           Somewhere in the wake of everything that has come to pass since the initial shock of that day wore away, 9/11 has become something much different - distorted, debated, and politicized. It was only a short matter of time before movies (one good, one bad) were made. But in writing this I seek not to add another layer to the spiraling arguments surrounding the questions which still remain from that day, but to strip them away to remember the victims. One victim actually.              Through the power of Sosauce and the wonderful nature of internet, I was recently blessed to come into contact with the sister of  Patricia J. Statz when she typed Patricia's name into google . Up came the  picture I had taken on the Dedication of Sacred Ground, the Pentagon Memorial unveiled on the seventh anniversary of the attack on Washington DC. Patricia's sister, Catherine, wanted to know if she could use my picture. I responded that I would be more than honored if she did. But something inside of me tugged away. I needed to know about Patricia, even if it was just a sentence or two telling me who she was and why she was in the Pentagon that day. Catherine wrote me back to tell me about her sister, who was working in the Pentagon as a civilian employee for the Army.   My sister was an awesome lady and she is greatly missed. A devoted mother, her sons were 7 and 11 when she died. She was an actress and directed plays on army bases while stationed in Germany. She ran a youth care center after her children were born. Patricia was such a generous lady. She had a heart of gold. Together with her family, she moved back to the US just 2 years before 9/11.          For myself and many others coming of age at the time, a piece of our innocence was lost on that fateful day. But for the family of Patricia J. Statz, and for those of the nearly 3,000 others, they lost so much more.          I did not know anyone who died that day. And although I never knew Patricia or her family, I feel a connection to them. On that night a year ago when I came to remember those who had lost their lives in the Pentagon, I never dreamed I would talk to the family of one of those names I passed and read and knelt to capture through my camera. Then, it was only a name. Today, a face in my mind I will think of every time I remember the day itself.         How we as individuals ultimately remember 9/11 surely has changed over the last eight years. But what can never be reinterpreted, relegated, or overlooked is the magnificent loss of life stolen from loved ones on that day. So to Patricia I say thank you. Thank you for your sacrifice. And to Catherine, I too say thank you. Thank you for bringing the day, that number, and those pictures back into focus.