The Patriot

I drew The Patriot on September 12, 2001 weeping. The world experienced one of the most horrific attacks on American citizens the day before. To this hour I have seen no images of that tragedy. The woman I worked for and I listened to the radio all day. We were locked in a building in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. A negligent delivery person had left a large package in the parking garage with no address label, and as the morning's events were seen and heard around the world, a security guard reacted, and local authorities shut down entry and egress from the building for 11 hours. It was a portend of overreach to come. We heard the anguish, shared the pain of that day with our country only on the radio. I talked with a friend on the phone who was counting on me to go to her house and keep her young children from seeing the television. We all cried for victims of that attack, and then we cried for what was to come. What the woman I worked for, my friend and I shared along with the agony was the knowledge that America would respond next day, without accurate intelligence, with political zeal, and for a long time.

I wish we'd been wrong.