Just some guy. That’s all he’ll be to me but there are a whole lot of just some guys and just some girls to a whole lot of people out there. I woke up this morning, it’s AM here, got my coffee like usually petted the cats like usual and plopped myself down in front of my computer to read my e-mail, just some sites, and start my day. There is nothing unusual in my routine nothing to indicate that a stranger Bill Biggart, a photographer, will have any affect on my day whatsoever. I check my e-mail to find there are few jobs, too many people for them. Another e-mail is more inspirational, it’s my positive thought for the day. There is another e-mail, now printing out on the computer, cause I have it setup that way, it’s a job lead. All job leads print out automatically. Tobey, my cat has been sitting on my lap, as custom, since I plopped into my chair with my first cup of coffee. Tobey has now decided that his morning greeting is over, he gets up and heads towards the living room and I imagine his favorite spot on the sofa. There is a lead off of one of the sites I visit ever morning, it’s headline reads, The most amazing Sept 11th pictures you might ever see, I hesitate momentarily, I’m resistant to violent images, I’ve seen so many of that day, we all have that for a moment I mentally refuse to take another one in. For reasons that are too deep to ponder at 7 in the morning I move on to the article. It’s a good read, and very very sad, so sad in fact that I find myself crying not hysterical crying, just a light though deep grieving for humanity kind of crying. 7 in the morning and some guy, some guy I don’t know who died in Sept 11th attacks doing what he loved to do in life has made me cry. I start ponder this whole rather unusual situation, a grown man crying for someone I’ve never met, will never meet all because of that horrible event. There are a lot of just some guys out there for all of us, in some way he is everyone I care about, which is why I cried. He is an undertone of relief, selfish as it may be, thanking god that it was me there that day, feeling guilty that I was here in Seattle, 3000 miles away from that horrible day. He is a reminder almost a year later now, that this event is still so new even after a year, that there isn’t even a scar yet to show for it. The rage I feel towards ideologies that allow this type of thing from happening. The sorrow for the thousands of familys that have to deal with this directly, the millions more that didn’t lose a loved one that day, but have to deal with it anyway. Tobey is meowing now, it’s part of the morning ritual he’s returned to the computer room to stake claim to my lap once more. He reminds me that it is time to move forward with my day, that I can’t wrap this up all nice and neat, there isn’t closure to Sept. 11th yet for me and I have just some guy to thank for getting me that much closer, thanks Bill Biggart.

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