Taking a break some time in the afternoon, I went next door to Mel and JR’s apartment. It being mid-day, they had not begun to light up because the little kids were up. JR had seen the news when the first plane attacked; he had said immediately that a terrorist must’ve been happy with his work.

I remember at some point during the afternoon, Mel picked up her 18-month-old son, saying, “Oh, Hunter, aren’t you glad Mommy and Daddy don’t have degrees so they don’t have to work in places like that?” (ft. 1)

I stilled, slighted by this. I was the only one in the house who had not only completed college, but also gotten a Master of Arts. I was also the only one in the house who was unemployed, aside from my freelance work.

I remember thinking it was a strange thing to be grateful for, but that it was probably unwise to point out that all kinds of people had died in those attacks – including the custodial engineers who likely didn’t have degrees, and many people who just happened to be in the area nearby.