Emergent
Psst.
Hey you.
Who me?
Yeah.
Get over here.
Now, the first thing I gotta tell you is.
Never approach someone who "pssts" you.
But now that you're here, let's talk.
25 years ago, yesterday, something big happened.
What came with it was a lot of ugly.
A ton of it.
Foogly amounts.
The whole country shut down.
Sounds familiar.
In a bit of a haze.
I remember even sports shut down.
Hmm.
And when it finally reopened, I went to a Giants game.
They warned us to stay home.
Be safe.
It was the first since all of it happened.
And in the air was this mix of anger and patriotism.
A country united in rage.
People who looked a certain way wore red, white, and blue.
And people who looked another way stayed home.
You could, as Gorilla Monsoon would say:
"Cut the intensity with a knife!"
When the anthem was about to play, it got eerily quiet.
"Please rise."
Unnecessary because everyone was already standing.
You could hear your heartbeat.
"For the playing of our national anthem."
And when the music started, the entire stadium sang from their burals and bits.
Every mother mother in there sang the anthem.
Or so it seemed.
We weren't singing it half-heartedly and half-arsed either.
We sang full-hearted.
Full-arsed.
Only way to sing.
And when it was over.
The roar.
My God, the roar.
Still gives me goosebumps.
Deafening.
The stadium shook.
From the release of pent-up anger, confusion, rage, and pride.
But it was manifested as joy.
As glee.
As jubilance.
Sure, we all wanted blood.
But we would take camaraderie.
We would take celebration to mourn.
And we knew, we just knew, that revenge was coming.
In the form of a 100 foot tall pissed off bald eagle.
Now, looking back, I'm not sure if we got payback.
I'll leave that to you experts in vengeance.
But don't kill the moment.
Quarter century.
So much has changed.
What I choose to remember most, though.
Is a choir of 41,000 singing our nation's anthem.
United.
Through tears and strength.
Through song.
And the roar.
My God.
πΊπΈ
Out of the ashes.