On the day it happened, it was easy to write about it. The feelings were raw, and the fears were real. We mourned the thousands of citizens of the world killed that day by terrorists, we celebrated the heroic efforts of the rescue workers, and we lamented the loss of innocence.

We found we weren't invulnerable, but we still thought we were invincible. Maybe that attitude is what it takes to survive such horror. Maybe that attitude is what perpetuates it.

A year ago, on the first anniversary, I found solace in the company of forty thousand people in that most American of traditions, a baseball game. It was a game, but it was a solemn occasion. The memories were still real and still raw, and we'd gone through a year of war, instability, and an uncertainty that carried over into the very ways we lived our lives.

Now it's been two years, but the perspective gained with time is colored by the way we've responded. As individuals, we've dealt with the new reality the best we could. For the most part, we've moved on with our lives, to the extent that's been possible. We live in a different world, and I feel as if I also live in a different country.

It's no secret I disagree with many of the policies of my government. Some elements in Washington have used our fears to consolidate their power and restrict our freedom. They've lied about their motives because they don't want us to know the truth. They correctly believe we wouldn't stand for their actions if we knew the real reasons behind them.

The same complacency that preceded the terrorist attacks has now created an era of unquestioned acceptance of government. They think they can do anything because we'll let them. I hope they're wrong.

An opportunity to bring the world together has been missed in these two years. Good will has been squandered. Thousands more, just as innocent as those victims we remember today, have died. Maybe we're safer than we were before, and maybe we're better off. Somehow it doesn't feel that way.

We do the victims of September 11 no dishonor by questioning the acts that have been carried out in their name. The workers in those towers didn't go up in the elevators that morning with the intention of becoming heroes. They were there to do their jobs, with every expectation that they'd come down those same elevators, and go on with their lives.

Had they lived, no doubt some of them would have changed history. But I doubt they would have foreseen the world as it is today and worked to make it like this. They might have considered it a waste of their lives.