moving day

moving day!

If  you find this blog and go “what the heck, this person has fallen off the planet” because there are no more posts – I will be moving selected posts from this blog over to my new personal website.

Which can be found here

Come and see what’s new!

Somebunny has a warped sense of humour

This morning, while wandering outside and having my first cuppa java, I spotted a rabbit rushing across the field beyond the property boundary. I found myself willing it to turn back and not find a way through the fence, as on this side there are two giant dogs and a pretty agro little one.  It came through anyway, but managed to cross the acres unmolested, so I guess it had lucky rabbit feet!

It got me to thinking about bunnies in general… How one boiled bunny spread fear and horror through the male population in the late 80′s. How we think they are cute and cuddly (the Japanese think so anyway), but really they can be twitchy and snappy. And in some people they trigger strange behaviour.

Friends of mine in America were bunny people. They had a pair who predictably copulated like..well, er…rabbits. They unpredictably only produced two babies in the litter. One was given to an enthusiastic home and the other was kept by the family. For no reason that anyone could fathom, this particular bunny was in the incarnation of Bunnicular. Unlike its parents, it hated people and benevolent actions like the arrival of food were greeted with attacks. Nips are okay…biting an adult thumb down to the bone is just scary.

I decided that my kids with their little fingers were no longer available for bunny sitting when the family went away. One adult thumb to the bone = one child finger severed.

After much soul-searching, the family decided that the bunny was too much of a liability.Visions of lawsuits danced in their heads…no sugar plums in sight. The problem was letting go… Despite its tendency to amputate fingers, the bunny had a beautiful coat, it was the much anticipated child to their two cuddly bunnies – somehow just ending was not going to do. The thought that perhaps keeping the pelt would be okay crossed someone’s mind… But that someone had laryngitis… so that someone came to me and asked me to call the taxidermist to find out how much it would cost to skin a rabbit…

The phone call was somewhat like being plunged into the heart of Deliverance. The creature on the other end assured me it would be his pleasure to take the pelt off the rabbit. He somewhat ghoulishly suggested that he would throw in the euthanasia for free… having been somewhat perturbed when I explained that it would be delivered to him fresh from the needle at the vet’s office. I was suddenly very glad that my friend had laryngitus, that she could not deal with this hick from the backwoods of the Appalachians. I had hideous visions of pet turned pot roast (which was why he probably wanted it sans the drugs). Seems Alan Alda was right - Never have your dog stuffed.

I am not a sales person – but I believe I reached previously unknown heights of persuasion after I terminated that call.   So bunny came back from the vet and because it was no longer going to the skinning scary guy, there was state of limbo. So bunny was carefully wrapped in a towel and several plastic bags and given a freezer shelf to itself…

It became a little too much for my bizarre sense of humour. The giggles always threatened to erupt every time an item from the freezer was offered. Ice cream? As long as it’s not Bunnilla flavour!

Eventually it was decided that the frozen fuzzball would be given a proper burial in the back yard – unfortunately winter had set in and the ground was as hard as a rock. Eventually the bunny left the freezer in the spring time and was laid to rest with due care, attention and ceremony.

RIP Bunnicular – I hope there are hosts of heavenly thumbs to hew in the hereafter… In retrospect – I think you were put on this planet as retribution for all the people who own “lucky” rabbits’ feet. You just never got a chance to complete your rabbity revenge!

We have a host of bunny vinyls available for Easter decorations. Email us at sales(at)themoon(dot)co(dot)za

Trees!

Holiday gift cards - for clients who don't do snow images for a summer Christmas. environmentally friendly too - no ink, and earning treebucks.

“The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago – the next best time is now”

I love trees. Hang on, let me qualify that – I love most trees. I hated the ancient apple tree in my garden in America that produced a million wormy sour apples every year. The apples fell to the ground and attracted two million wasps – that tree I mentally consigned to tree hell. Oh yeah, I hate eucalyptus and black wattle trees that some idiot introduced to South Africa eons ago. Now they thrive and suck much needed water from the ground and crowd out indigenous species. Those trees need to emigrate back to Australia!

I love indigenous trees. They have such wonderfully evocative names: Tamboti,  Baobab, Jackalberry, Umbrella Thorn, Bushwillow, Buffalothorn, Mopani, Paperbark, Fevertree, Sausagetree,  Stinkwood, Sneezewood, Yellowwood – beautiful trees in a beautiful country.

I love climbing trees. I spent quite a lot of my childhood in trees and wish my kids had a tree to climb and build a treehouse in. I Want a grown up treehouse one day – yes, they do exist – I have the book! I have been known to totally embarrass my children by shinning up a suitable tree to look at the world from a different view-point.

I like tree people too! At the Yebo Gogga event last year, we met Sean Hide of Grow-A-Tree fame. We already owned a Grow-A-Tree White Stinkwood which had already reached a nice height of 30cm (from seed). On meeting Sean, my daughter, the family tree-embracer and inspiration behind out treebucks programme indulged in a Wild Olive tree pack . Sean is a dynamic guy -  and I suspect if we had lingered for any length of time at his stand, I would have taken home a small forest in seed form. I think it’s the best gift for someone who loves growing stuff.

If you would prefer the idea of a bigger tree with a more immediate effect on the environment, instead of the long haul of waiting for your baby to grown from seed, then Food and Trees for Africa are the people to contact. In addition to planting trees to offset carbon emissions, they also run  programmes that educate communities about sustainable food gardening.

We will be contacting them today with our latest order! We are happy to report that 10 trees will be taking root on behalf of clients who earned enough treebucks recently.

Treebucks? Treebucks are virtual points we award to clients who order printed goods through our company. We love design and marketing, but the worst part about it is thinking of all that paper being used. After working out how many square metres of paper would be equivalent to a tree, we award clients treebucks based on the square-meterage of their print order. When they have enough bucks – we buy a tree from Food and Trees for Africa on their behalf.

We have a few clients teetering on the brink of being tree “owners”, and some who are about to be responsible for mini plantations. We are grateful for all of their orders and although they might never actually sit under the tree they are responsible for, they can enjoy the virtual benediction of the shade and wealth they have provided for countless others.

Have you planted/hugged/consigned to hell/deported/climbed a tree today?

The Twelve Days of Christmas for Tiger Woods

On the Twelfth Day of  Christmas the media sent to me:

Twelve lovers ‘fessing

Eleven bloggers blogging

Ten tweets a twittering

Nine irons smashing

Eight movers moving

Seven sponsors wincing

Six jokes appearing

No Wedding ring

Four turning friends

Three wretched weeks

Two child victims

And a Tiger surrounded by sleaze

So has it been worth it?

I wonder, not only about the evidence of ego over will power on the part of Tiger, but also about the self respect that all the mistresses seem to lack.  Is it just me, or are other people equally alarmed that the sheer lack of decency surrounding all the “players” in this game hints at a society that forgives the “other women” and blames it all on the man? Sex is a mutually consentual event, and these women have basically used it as a tool to become famous for fifteen minutes. Kinda sad, not so? They are so hungry for publicity and fame that the closest they can get is sleeping with it and then blabbing to the media (probably for a lovely fat payout).

That doesn’t require effort or talent or brains; just self-interest, a nice body and a pretty face. I can only think of the whole ton of ugly on the inside! Instant gratification for the ego and no thought for the innocent bystanders – the children, the wife, the parents. The stupidity and arrogance of some of the statements are just ludicrous! Take Grubb (good name for her) the cocktail waitress who is dumb enough to think she is a potential replacement for a beautiful Swedish wife. Reality Check! What makes her think that a man who can sleep around with any number of women (including her) while married, is going to be exclusively monogamous to her when the marriage fails? Because she is somehow better than everyone else? How? Her sum talents and qualifications amount to being a drinks jockey and being sexually available! Big whoop-de-doo, join the queue!

I am not being prudish here, I believe marriages fail for all kinds of reasons. What I do believe in is personal responsibility and essentially – style. If you cannot keep your vows and feel it’s okay to sleep around with a whole bunch of random people – then don’t get married and have children. If you are married and have difficulty keeping your vows, then deal with your spouse and children in a fair and grown-up way in order to minimize the pain and keep the children on an even keel. Be fair about it! Your children didn’t ask for this mess!

On the flip side of the coin, if a married man comes on to you (however famous he may be) remember that when it comes out, a whole lot of nasty is coming your way! So say “no thanks” and retain a shred of style and dignity! Even if you have the brain of a goldfish, remember that notoriously dumb dirty-dress girl, Monica Lewinsky? Where is she now?

Going nuts!

The squirrels are looking for me, they think I'm nuts!

Allergies are irritating. One of the worst aspects of having a child with food allergies is realising that the shiny immortality bubble that most kids carry around like a second skin isn’t present in the allergic child. They learn to worry about anaphylaxis and death, they have to carry around anti-histamines and ephedrine injectors, they learn to ask, and as soon as they can read, they read ingredient labels.

As a parent, you can hover and bite your nails, if that makes you happy. But it is more than likely going to send you to the nut-house.  Demanding a nut/wheat/dairy/egg/soy free environment is a road to insanity as well. In America, the K-3 school my children attended  had a partially nut-free policy. All common areas like the art class, media centre and library were totally nut-free zones. The rest of the school was okay except for the classrooms of the children with allergies. In those rooms, the kids who had peanut/nut products in their lunches could not open their lunch boxes in the classroom. All children ate at tables set out in the gym and the allergic kids had a special table apart from the rest of the school.

I know this smacks of segregation, but this issue is fraught with all kinds of emotional reactions, usually from parents: the parents who want their kids to be able to eat peanut butter vs. the parents who are terrified their child will die from the allergy. It has all the makings of an ugly scene or two.

In my opinion, the only solution is education and hard work. The separate table and nut-free zones may seem like hard work, but once the work is done, they are constant reminders to the teachers and students that there are seemingly innocuous things in this world that can be deadly to other people. It is kinetic education on a daily basis. Educate the allergic child to read labels, ask questions and if in doubt – Don’t. Educate the teachers on allergies and when to administer ephedrine. Educate the classmates about allergies and how to avoid killing their friends. Educate yourself so that you plan ahead and actually prepare food from scratch with ingredients you trust.

Part of the hard work for me is getting a nut-free policy of sorts started at the school my children attend in South Africa. Cases of severe nut allergies are increasing in South Africa, of course not in the numbers seen elsewhere, as our population is smaller and in most cases, quite poor, and as reported in the Sunday Times on October 25th this year, allergies seem to be more prevalent in the affluent.

The school advertised as a nut-free school, but they are dancing to a different tune now. There has been a change in tuck-shop management and the people who now run it are clearly woefully ignorant of food allergy issues. They stocked all kinds of peanut laden chocolate bars and when asked to cater for a school function in winter, very cleverly garnished a cauldron full of butternut soup with nuts! Bearing in mind this was a mass catering event, how long do your think the “pretty” addition on the top lasted? Of course it was the soup that my child preferred and of course the server had no idea what the ingredients were. It is only the chance passing of one of the geniuses behind the garnish idea who heard my nut questions that saved us from some very unpleasant consequences.

The furious email that was delivered to all senior management in boxes, probably did more harm than good. I wouldn’t really know, as most of them did not bother to reply and when they did it was with an answer that a politician would be proud of!

I have now made myself super popular by sending yet another round of emails after some nut tartlets were served at yet another school event. Caterers are denying all knowledge of the items, but unless I was hallucinating, they existed and emerged from the catering hatch, so someone is being economical with the truth.

Eventually in an attempt to get some sort of workable policy in place, I made an appointment with the headmaster of the Preparatory School and presented him with a written out plan that could potentially work and not step on the toes of the kids who like peanut butter. I offered my services as an allergy coordinator/implementor of plan and presenter of allergy information to all parents.

As a peace-offering, I created the mug pictured above. I had thought it out and sketched the squirrels after the first nutty email, and did the final finishing in Photoshop before the meeting. My reasoning being that you get further with a smile than you do with a frown.  Wish I had thought of this before I sent those emails. I wish I had known about Nick Morgan’s blog posts on body language so I could have gauged whether the principal was open or closed to my ideas.

The mug is now sitting on the secretary’s desk (note to Headmaster – my spies are everywhere!) which may or may not be a sign that they are receptive to change. There was a lot of humming, haa-ing, ifs, ands, and buts thrown around at the meeting. I hope they are prepared to do some work on this, if not they are going to be driven nuts by me and the squirrels might find them.

Being thankful

When I created this t-shirt/coffee mug slogan, it was based on an email that went around listing the promises girlfriends should make to each other. A nice departure from cute teddies and hearts and sloppy messages doing the email rounds. I have girlfriends who would at least give me a virtual slap for not taking care of myself and I think they are the best kind of friends to have. They stand by you in the tough times, but when you are whining or being stupid, they tell you so with no punches pulled. Of course, you get to return the compliment when they whine!

It reminded me that Thanksgiving is coming up in the States next week. When I first moved to America, Thanksgiving was just a couple of days off school and work. We were somewhat isolated as it is a holiday that involves families and togetherness and as a family of foreigners we watched with some confusion the turkey feasts that went on around us. Later, as we were adopted by various families, I came to appreciate just how nice this holiday is.

Okay it’s a bit hinky because it is only a month away from Christmas and there you are eating turkey. Most Americans thought we were a bit weird to eat turkey at Christmas, but there we were facing two massive bird eating rituals within a month. But it’s not the bird that you need to consider.

What is great about Thanksgiving is the concept. You get together with friends and family and eat well. There are no gifts to stress about and the food is not too much work as inevitably,  people bring a contribution to the feast. It ties in with nature in that the food reflects the bounties of the harvest (and perhaps in earlier times, the last feast you would have before the hardships of winter set in). At every Thanksgiving dinner we attended, there was a moment of serious reflection at the table in which everyone got a turn to say what they were thankful for.

Much better than whining because your in-laws are convinced you are a scarf person and just gave you your twentieth scarf for Christmas. Or wishing that Santa had found the wherewithal to put a Playstation 3 in your stocking.

Even though I no longer live in America, I still take the time to be thankful at this time of year. In Johannesburg it is easy. If you listen to 94.7 Highveld stereo in the mornings at this time of year, you’d better have your dark glasses and tissues on standby, because it’s Christmas Wish time.  I like to think of it more as Thanksgiving season. People show their thankfulness for family and friends and sometimes virtual strangers by nominating them. And all of us who listen, even if you are feeling the financial squeeze, realise that we need to be thankful for what we have and the blessings that come our way and fail to recognise. I get so caught up in being grateful, I barely shout at the radio when they say “amount” of wishes instead of  “number” of wishes. For that story click here.

Forget Christmas wish lists and make a Thanksgiving list!

I am thankful for: The boy with two brains, the challenging brilliant girl, the wise cracking family clown, the friends who send me virtual slaps when I whine and virtual hugs when I need them, (I miss laughing so hard around the Thanksgiving table that we all risk choking), the sister who “gets” me, the brother who challenges me creatively, the parents who are always there for us all.

I am thankful to live in a crazy city where the Christmas wish on the radio probably causes several near accidents a day as people blubber and sniff their way to work. Thanks for those tears, they remind me that I am lucky.

Feel like a zombie?

This  October, we are all feeling the pinch of the global economic meltdown, the stupidity of attention seeking parents who use their children as TV bait, and the sheer ludicrousness of the little dung balls of “wisdom” that plop out of a certain Youth leader’s mouth.

It’s in moments like these that I despair for the human race! We live in a country that allows a failed high school student to dictate how they should think – even the president doesn’t get as much air time as this dude does. He decided that the national soccer coach should be fired because the team wasn’t winning games. And LO! Today we get the news that Joel Santana is going (with a platinum handshake). Rumour has it that Carlos Alberto Parreria is going to return (at what cost to the severely struggling tax payers?) But if Julie-baby has his way, Lucas Radebe will be in the unenviable position of being appointed because His Lowness decrees it!

At what point should the population stand up object to the squandering of tax payers money on stuff that doesn’t ultimately benefit the people in need?

Barak Obama gets my sympathy. He is trying his hardest to reform Health Care in the US, but is being met with resistance on all sides.  Our health care innovation in recent times consisted of a minister who advocated root vegetables for HIV treatment.  And now they have sent her off  (probably with a basket of african potatoes, beetroot and garlic like a bloated little red riding hood) to help Caster Semenya. Yikes! If I was Caster, I would be running very very fast in the opposite direction!

There is something somewhat demented in a world that knows a father is an attention-seeking git, yet he and his children get air time on the Larry King show. This after it has emerged that he faked his 6-year old’s peril in a home made hot air balloon, wasted huge amounts of tax dollars on rescue services and is being prosecuted. He should be ignored. By giving him publicity, we are just feeding the beast!

There is something even more demented about a world that wants to send a 6-year old  to a school for troublemakers. Why? Because the cute little dude brought his favourite folding camping cutlery set to school. I can just see him, all bright and shiny and eager to get to school. Ready to show his teacher and friends his most prized possession. Knee jerk reactions from the teacher sent the school board in Christina, Delaware into a tizzy and had them issuing the harsh decree. How dumb can people be?

feel like this?

My kids came home with an interesting fact from school. I don’t know the basis, but it makes sense. They said that despite the recession, candy manufacturers have not been as hard hit as other businesses. It seems that as a low cost item, we still find the money to buy that bag of sweets to make our day a little nicer. With Halloween around the corner, it’s quite heartening to know.

But spare a thought for the poor people of Scotia and Glenville, in upstate New York. This Halloween, they are allowed to go trick-or-treating, but they must be done by 8 pm and porch lights must be OUT by town decree! I kid you not – Check it out here. Makes you wonder if the people of these towns feel a bit like zombies.

Okay, so next time you feel like you are being treated like a brainless automaton – get your zombie shirt out and storm town hall – the only problem being that there are no brains in the building to provide you with sustenance.

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Let’s drug the world!

Give them roots and help them flourish

One of my facebook buddies just posted a Youtube video which was hilarious, but sad. Clearly this adult is not smarter than a 5th grader. It’s gratifying that the 5th grader actually got it right though!

I grew up with a mother who has a voracious appetite for reading and acquiring information. In the 70s she was national champion of the Venture quiz show and joint winner of a radio travel quiz. She starts a lot of conversations with “I wonder…”; “Did you know….”;  “I wonder what…”; .

I’m not moaning really because this intense interest in the world and the written word led us to be almost as curious as she is and to realise that to have just a fraction of the knowledge out there is to be rich. I was thrilled when my son decided that he really really couldn’t survive without a copy of “How to Avoid a Wombat’s Bum” Okay so it really helps that Mitchell Symons picks information and titles that really appeal to your average 12 year old.

This son, who has inherited his grandmother’s voracious appetite for acquiring knowledge, is not thriving at school. He fidgets and misses information, he is amazingly disorganised. His teacher asked me to have him assessed, because he was clearly bright, but as she put it “it looks like he is bursting with ideas and concepts, but he is getting so frustrated with himself because he is missing the point most of the time.”    She, thankfully, did not bring up that boring old acronym “ADD”.

We went to a highly recommended educational psychologist, for testing. It turns out that, in her opinion, the kid is not ADD, but is “the boy with two brains”. He is of superior IQ. But there is a catch! His left (logical, verbal, organised) side of the brain is above-average. His right (creative, non-verbal, conceptual) side of his brain is gifted. There is a 21 point disparity between the two. She described it as having two different people in your head speaking two different languages. It explains the disorganisation, the guitar lessons that ROCK and the continual need for nagging over the simplest tasks – he is in a completely different world!

A note to all simpering parents who say their children are “gifted” to excuse their bratty behaviour: You would run a mile if your child was really gifted…it’s no picnic! And any gifted child is quite capable of having good manners.

In addition, we have to visit a neurologist for an EEG to check that the physiological side of the brain is working normally (just in case…horror words for a parent). After 5 weeks of waiting for our appointment, it arrives, the day after International Teachers’ Day. The EEG clearly illustrates the differences in the two sides of the brain, but there are no reasons to worry physiologically. Phew we are off that hook, but not before the neurologist suggest that Ritalin could be prescribed to help the boy concentrate… This is the moment I lose all respect for the man.

Perhaps he is too used to parents who would gladly shove a whole pharmacy full of pills into their children to make them conform. Maybe he has shares in the company that makes the drug. Maybe he sees me as a cash cow – Ritalin users have to be evaluated every 6 months – at R1200 a pop, it’s a nice little earner. But I am not going to subject my son to a dumbing down pill and these possible  side effects, just because it seems like the easy answer.

We are planning Auditory Integration Training, swimming (to help the two sides of the brain coordinate physically), the ROCKING guitar lesson are great, and some study skills therapy to help him harness the creative side of the brain to get the boring old linear work expected from school out of his head and onto the page! Dietary options will be explored but drugs will not be taken.

Thank you to the teacher who does not insisted on drugged-to-the-eyeballs students. For Teachers Day, in addition to other gifts, we gave her the card pictured above. The tree represents the roots that a great foundation education provides and the leaves, the flourishing that an insightful teacher can provide. It’s cool – there is not a drop of ink on the card. The trunk is lazer engraved to show the inner part of the card stock, while the leaves are lazer cut-outs. Any colour paper can be slotted into the inside of the card, so the leaves can be any colour at all!

Talking about honouring teachers, how cute is this “we love you” mug we printed for a class of 2nd graders for their much loved teacher!

Are you free?

Do you agree?

Not are you in prison?  or  Have you been abducted and kept as a sex slave in a garden shed for umpteen years?

But…

Are you free?

Don’t you think that some are shackled by ideas that keep their minds in chains?

A school in Middle-of-Nowhere, USA has wasted about $700 on t-shirts for their marching band because they depicted the evolution of man as well as the evolution of music. This is one of those daft towns where the school district (yes! Educators who are supposed to be educating!) probably voted not to allow the Theory of Evolution to be taught (or mentioned, or probably even thought about). My favourite stupid quote from the article: “I was disappointed with the image on the shirt. I don’t think evolution should be associated with our school.”  Reading between the lines: Development of  scientifically based theories, advancement in knowledge and thinking outside the religious box are not allowed in Education!

Can we all scream now?

They don’t want to admit that the origin of mankind can be traced back by science… They deny the theories of Charles Darwin as they feel they clash with the concept of creation depicted in the Bible.

If we follow this argument logically then  South Africa must be one of the most anti-biblical countries in the world. And the World Heritage Sites in the Cradle of Humankind are some sort of pagan conspiracy.

One of my favourite quotations: “Only the educated are free” is attributed to Epictetus – A Greek-born Roman slave and Stoic philosopher… He had to know what he was talking about having experienced slavery and freedom.

If you are educated enough to know that sticking to a narrow mindset will get your brain locked away forever… go back to school and thank the teacher who turned the key that set you free… Mr Malema need not bother.

International Teachers’ Day – 5 October 2009

They brew the right ideas - give them the vessel to prove it!

9/11 – where were you?

Everyone remembers where they were on September 11, 2001.

I was in a PTA meeting in New Jersey, about 30 miles away from the Twin Towers. Prime commuter territory for Manhattan. Shortly after the first plane hit the first Tower, the secretaries from the office rushed into the meeting with the news. At that point in time, everyone thought it was a small plane, and that it was terrible, but not disastrous. There was a fumble for cell phones as most of the mothers in the meeting panicked about their husbands many of whom worked in the financial district.

Sitting two seats away was a woman whose husband had called her: He was in his office on a floor above the crash site. She was not to worry as he was going to get out. He loved her. ..  She is one of the 9/11 widows in that small New Jersey town.

By the time the second plane hit, the meeting had disbanded. The soon to be widow was taken home by a comforting posse of friends. I walked home and found my answer machine full of panicked messages from Africa. Not my parents – they knew I was unlikely to be downtown that early inthe morning – but from friends whose parents had been staying with me. I had forgotten all about them!

These two lovely people had been my house guest for five days while they explored New York. They had been up the Twin Towers two days before. They were on their way to Seattle and I had waved them off at 5:00am that morning as a cab took them off to JFK airport – an hour’s drive and two bridges away from New Jersey. Now no one knew where they were!

The American Airlines Call Centre in Florida was being a bit cagey – no they could not give me any details of the flight. I told them that I was trying to find two retired South African tourists who would truly be stranded if the plane had been forced to land in some godforsaken backwater. I was also concerned that their plane could have been a target plane – a long haul flight full to the gills with lovely combustible aviation fuel, leaving around the right time – perhaps the terrorists were not finished with this campaign? Eventually I asked the right question: Could they tell me if the plane had taken off? The answer – “No – it had not taken off”. Phew! They were stranded on Long Island!

There was no way for me to get hold of them, but eventually they managed to call on a borrowed phone and let me know that they had found a cab, found a hotel room (further away from NYC than the airport) and they were okay. The redoubtable husband had even taken on the airport authorities and insisted on getting his luggage back! A smart move in retrospect as many people had their luggage looted by the kindof human vermin that love chaos. My small crisis had been averted. They never got to go to Seattle or LA or Las Vegas as planned, after 3 days of being stranded, they came back to my house and waited out the travel blackout before returning home.

In our small town there were about 11 dead. But there were also the miracle stories. People who had meetings in one the Towers but had been delayed by traffic or in the case of a close friend had been answer urgent emails in his office in Jersey City and had set out late for the meeting. We all climbed to the top of the highest hill in town and could see the buildings burning… It seemed that no one slept very well – but everyone pitched in. We donated clean socks, bottled water, blankets, food batteries and flashlights to the firefighters who were searching Ground Zero. We extended helping hands to bereaved families. We said many many prayers and wondered if they were heard. This spirit is being remember this year.

9/11 reforged a nation that had been soft and secure and complacent. Friends were shocked when I mentioned that they had experienced in one excruciating day what the rest of the world had suffered for decades.  They had not considered themselves in that light.

The mood in America became very nationalistic, and not necessarily for the good. A few years later, once the war in Iraq had started, my proudly South African flag I hung outside my house as an ironic counterpoint to all the star-spangled banners, was ripped down, as was my flag holder. I felt violated and angry and also sad that a fight I had not entered into had made an impact on my freedom.

Eight years on – I hope that Obama manages to get American troops out of the middle east, because it is impossible to heal while the wound is kept open.