On That Day

I remember that day. I was in Germany at the time.

According To Hoyt


It was a beautiful September day — no, not that one.  I was 9 years old and very excited about the Olympic games in Munich.  My dad had told me — I have mentioned, somewhere, right that my dad is an idealist, a dreamer, always ready to believe the best of people and institutions — that the Olympic games were a way for the whole world to come together in peace.  For a child of the Cold War, this was an important symbol.

And then the illusion was shattered by Black September.

It was a beautiful September day.  I was 38 (corrected the age.  You know there are ages you attribute things to?  Well, the year I turned 33 is one of those.  Ridiculous of course, since that’s when I had younger son.) and just the week before I’d thought “these are the best years of my life.”  My husband…

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