The thoughts in this post have been churning about my head for a while. A moment ago, I went to post them, as I am doing now. But I caught up on reading the forum first, hit Ferrick's "Over There" post and composed a reply to it.

Doing so put me in more somber frame of mind. The thoughts that would become this post became superficial, perhaps even trifling, and I almost censored myself, judging them to be inappropriate at such a time.

Then I stopped myself, because this is exactly what my thoughts were about in the first place.

In grave times, there is a curious line between showing strength in the face of adversity, continuing on with normal life, and altering normal life to pay respect and deference to great globally significant events. When the September 11th attacks occurred, some school classes, meetings, recreational events, and so forth were postponed or cancelled, while others were not. Everybody had different perspectives about what degree of continuing every day life was insensitive and what degree of curbing it was conceding defeat.

Looking back over my monthly hit counts for the past several years shows a reasonably steady increase in traffic over time, with minor fluctuations in the curve in the short term. The second largest sustained increase in traffic occurred in September and October of 2001. A small boost typically accompanies the end of summer anyhow, but I am convinced that much of this increase is due to people -- all over the world, probably, but certainly Americans -- seeking out light entertainment such as that found at RinkWorks as a diversion from the unprecedented tragedy of the 9/11 attacks. Is seeking out Crazy Libs and Really Bad Jokes an insensitive thing to do when thousands are killed by terrorist attacks, or when our soldiers -- our parents, siblings, children, and friends -- are fighting and dying half a world away?

It's tempting to answer that, but I think the decision is a personal one.

But surfing the web is a decision that need not impact any more than one person -- yourself. Not all things are quite like that. On my side of the same issue, I made very conscious and deliberate decisions about how RinkWorks would observe the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. That decision affected, in some way, every person out there that hit RinkWorks on and after 9/11.

This leads into what I had to say in this post in the first place, which I haven't even gotten to yet. I'm there now.

The Academy Awards, sort of the Superbowl for film fans, is scheduled to take place this Sunday. It is entirely likely that by Sunday we will be in the first days of a war with Iraq. Much talk has been made about whether the Academy Awards should be postponed (back in September 2001, the Emmys were postponed by some weeks). The producers of the show have been emphatic about not doing so. There is much talk about whether the decision to keep the show on is a moral decision or a financial one, although I'm not interested in speculation on that point.

There are, however, other things that will be postponed or cancelled. The pre-awards show, featuring red carpet interviews of the arriving stars, has been cancelled. The customary outrageous and expensive clothing and jewelry worn by the stars -- typically as advertising for the designers -- is expected to be absent. The annual pre-awards Barbara Walters interviews -- featuring Renee Zellweger, Julianne Moore, and Nicolas Cage -- are *postponed* but not cancelled. Sometimes the Walters interviews are with people scarcely even involved with the Oscars, but all three are nominees for major acting categories. My question is, who is going to want to see awards interviews long *after* the awards?

Anyway, to the point. What is the right thing to do? Obviously we can all make personal decisions about whether it is right to go on with something as comparatively superficial as an awards show in light of something as comparatively serious as a war. But we're all going to arrive at slightly if not drastically different conclusions, and when all is said and done, the awards show must go on, must be postponed, or must be cancelled, and that decision impacts everybody involved, regardless of the personal decisions they have come to.

So what's the right thing to do? Is it disrespectful that the Oscars will go on as planned, or is it senseless to surrender the exercise of the very rights and freedoms we are hopefully fighting for in the first place?

Personally, I can see toning down or eliminating the red carpet pre-show -- frankly, I think that part is superficial regardless of the global circumstances -- but why the Walters interviews? Why cancel post-awards events? One can be respectful in the manner one goes about these things. Ultimately, I believe, this is more respectful than showing respect by ceasing to do them at all.

On September 12th, 2001, I wrote a column in the Site Journal, expressing as honestly as I could the feelings I had about the events of the previous day. A notice about the column and a link to the Site Journal were posted on the main RinkWorks page, where they remained for several days. This was the only "official" observation on RinkWorks of the attacks. Some days later, perhaps a week, an update to Really Bad Jokes was posted. On September 20th, Puzzle Games made its debut.

Was it insensitive, or was it constructive, to dally with games and bad jokes so soon afterward? Did doing so convey a fickleness of heart, or did it convey, in some small way, an encouragement to recover and heal? I have no doubts about my response on RinkWorks to 9/11, and I never once got a complaint, either. I ask these questions not from self-doubt but to explore the more general governing rule, which must surely apply to higher profile things, too, like the Academy Awards, currently drawing much heat from many quarters and would, I'm sure, regardless of what actions were taken.

The human heart is a strange thing. My emotions about the 9/11 attacks did not diminish by my dalliance with bad jokes. I could laugh over stupid jokes, then shed tears a moment later over an increased estimate of casualties. So could and did, I suspect, all of you.

Our *perception* of the human heart is a stranger thing. When we observe a man who is heartbroken one day, then joyful the next, how often do we discredit him with a fickle heart?