I'm not American, but my Dad is. Generations of his family were. Canadians, as a nation, tend to define ourselves as not-American, in the chippy way common to smaller nations like Austria re: Germany and Scotland re: England. However, that definition doesn't matter a damn to me on the anniversary of 9-11, just as my reaction to the atrocity--part of which I saw live on television in a public library--was to weep for my father's people. Later, listening to Yassar Arafat, I screamed.
Some appalling people write smugly,"I'm so over 9-11." I don't think I ever will be.
Where were you?