“I don’t want to see no attitude!”

That order was given countless times by Mom when I grew up. We kids displayed our attitudes toward being disciplined with either a scowl, pouty lip, or—though, rarely–tears of repentance. But the one in particular that Mom meant was when we sassed back. That kind of attitude usually produced a ready switch in her hand that she swatted against our fannies.

Before the hours of insanity and annihilation that changed world history on September 11, 2001, the month of September was noted by members of my family primarily as the birth month for at least a half dozen individuals. It remained, of course, their month after the destruction of New York City’s World Trade Center and the loss of thousands of lives, but the shadow of that event tends to lessen the glow of birthday candles and soften the volume of songs and laughter. Especially for those born on the actual day.