Today is the 24th Anniversary of 9/11.
In recent weeks, we have seen:
- The Mentally Ill shooting up Catholic School Kids…
- The Criminal Element stabbing a Blonde Ukrainian Girl on a train…
- An Unknown Gunman shooting a Political Figure like it’s 1968…
One wonders…
After 20 years of hard fighting and sacrifice, with 7,041 American troops slain by the foe, and 30,177 who were slain by their own hand out of despair…
How did we get here?
And how do we get out?
A FRIEND PHONES IN
“I don’t get it man…How did we get here?”
My good friend asked me this question over text today.
Him and I are the same age…he’s older by a few months.
While I was learning the perils of Postmodern Philosophy, he was fighting in ISIS in Iraq as a Marine Devil Dog.
There, he lost a close friend at the hands of the Jihadi foe, and he always wears a bracelet on his wrist to commemorate him.
He has a tattoo on his shoulder that he got before deploying to Iraq, bearing the Brad Pitt quote from the 2014 film, Fury that reads:
“Ideals are peaceful. History is violent”.
And still he finds himself asking:
“I don’t get it man…How did we get here?”
FILLED WITH FOREBODING
His question reminds me of a tale that happened 11 years ago today, on September 11, 2014.
While he was in the Marine Corps, I was starting my first semester at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, VA.
And I was not happy about it.
What I had seen at the Freshman Orientation a few months earlier in June of that year, and a few months after that in August at the History Department Open House had not impressed me.
In fact, it filled me with foreboding.
SOLACE AND SHOCK
It was clear to me that this was a home for Hard Left Ideologues, student and faculty alike. Manipulation was their game, and when that failed, the game turned to coercion…follow the partyline, or risk your grade.
I was not happy about this at all, and so I sought solace in something that was very holy to me:
Remembering the Victims and Heroes of 9/11.
The school was having a flag raising and remembrance ceremony that morning, and I figured that if there was anybody at the school who shared my passion and values, it would be there.
I remember when my Mom and I went together. The ceremony was to take place at Jefferson Square, outside of the English Department Building at Jefferson Hall.
We drove through the open wrought iron gates, slowed to a halt…
And when we pulled up to the ceremony, we were shocked at what we saw.
WHAT THE SQUARE REVEALED
There was almost nobody there.
There stood a few ROTC guys conducting the ceremony, green as can be in their spiffy ACU uniforms.
They were surrounded by the saddened, wizened faces of a few slow-moving Vietnam Vets, followed by a few cane-bearing Korea Vets, and followed by even fewer walker and wheelchair-bound WWII Vets.
And then there were about 5-10 very unmotivated students, going through the motions with no reverence or devotion.
The giant grassy field that was Jefferson Square was nearly empty.
THE CHOSEN FEW
My Mom and I looked at each other and were shocked.
We thought that here, right outside of Washington DC, where everyone was either Army at the Pentagon or Marine Corps at Quanitco…
Surely there would be more students at a commemorative ceremony like this.
But out of the nearly 5000 attending the university, only 0.1% could be bothered to show up, and unwillingly at that.
BILBO BAGGINS & THE NEW YORK FASHION PLATE
We went through the ceremony, raised the flag, said the Pledge of Allegiance, and sang the National Anthem.
I remember going home after the day’s classes, despondent, with even more dread and foreboding of what the years to come would bring.
I went outside, and saw my good friend and neighbor, Mr. Jim.
Mr. Jim had been in the Alabama National Guard, and had been in Afghanistan like just about everybody else who lived in our Stafford, VA neighborhood.
He was a quiet, thoughtful, and fun-loving guy who had a passion for History, Old Movies, and Pulp Fiction.
I always would give him a hard-time, telling him that he started out his Army career looking like a young Tom Cruise, and ended up his Army career looking like an old Bilbo Baggins.
He always would give me a hard-time in return, telling me I dressed like I thought I was some kind of New York Fashion Plate.
Both accusations were true.
But today, it wasn’t a day for jokes like that.
Today was a somber day.
WHAT MR. JIM ASKED
As I told him the events of the ceremony in disbelief, and Mom confirmed my account, Mr. Jim became deeply saddened and disturbed.
His face suddenly began to look like the saddened, wizened faces of those old Vietnam, Korea, and WWII Vets.
There was a longing, a despair, as if looking out at something valuable was drifting out into the tide beyond the horizon of a sinking sun, to be lost forever out into the abyss of the sea…
He shook his head and softly said:
“Where do these kids think their parents have been for the last decade?”
WHAT MR. JIM KNEW
I thought about this exchange today as my young Marine friend asked me:
“I don’t get it man…How did we get here?”
And in that instant, I knew the answer.
It was written all over the foreboding of Mr. Jim’s face I saw so long ago.
And that foreboding on Mr. Jim’s face was because he knew in his heart of hearts where things were going to go.
He knew deep down inside that they were going to go here, where we are now:
- With the Mentally Ill shooting up Catholic School Kids…
- With the Criminal Element stabbing a Blonde Ukrainian Girl on a train…
- With an Unknown Gunman shooting a Political Figure like it’s 1968…
WHAT THE YEARS REVEALED
I told my friend:
“Well, for what it’s worth, while you were fighting in Iraq, they were teaching me and my fellow college students this logic:
“That if I disagree with someone, it means I want them dead, and it’s the equivalent of Pearl Harbor. Therefore, they are justified to drop the Atomic Bomb of political violence.
“You gotta think that this was these college kids’ formative experiences in their formative years.
“Yours was literally going to war. Theirs was learning this sense of existential entitlement.”
WHERE MY HEART GOES
Today, my heart goes out to the Heroes and Victims of 9/11, living and dead.
Today, my heart goes out to all our Warfighters who fought valiantly in the GWOT…both those who came home, and those who did not.
Today, my heart goes out to my friends Dan, Vince, Kevin, Shaun, Al, Charlie, Mr. Jim, Cody, and Tommy…GWOT Heroes, true friends, and honorable mentors.
Today, my heart goes out to Adey, Nagib, Mark, Miriam, Hadji, Mustafa, Gizal, Malik, Miriam, Ki-Ro-Los, Kismet, Miriam, and Wael…those innocents who came to this Country to escape the Terror, and became unlikely friends and inspirations alike.
And most of all, my heart goes out to Harper Moyski, Fletcher Merkel, Iryna Zarutska, and Charlie Kirk.
And when I think about them, I can’t help but think of the words of America the Beautiful that Ray Charles sang so long ago:
“Oh Beautiful,
“For Heroes Proved,
“In Liberating Strife.
“Who more than self,
“Their country loved,
“And mercy more than life!
“America!
“America!
“May God thy Gold refine!
“Till all success,
“Be Nobleness,
“And every gain Divine!”
I love you all.
God bless you all.
We, the Living…we’ve got a job to do.
Sincerely,
Richard Barrett
09-11-2025
Written at 4:35 PM, somewhere in the USA…
PULP FICTION RENAISSANCE 