I was happy, and quite relieved, when I heard that the Nine Miners All Got Out Alive. I was on the phone at work when the news broke. Tthe person I was talking to interrupted me. He had the news on in the background and excitedly told me the moment the news broke.

People at work talked about it. It's been all over the news, and all over the blogosphere.

I found myself wondering why I felt so happy. So relieved. Everyone else seems so happy too. I suppose whenever there's something like this, especially in a slow news cycle, it gets a lot of attention.

But is there some psychological transferrance here? At least a little? So many of us watched the WTC coverage last year, transfixed for days on end. So many of us hoped someone, at least one person, maybe just a dog, would finally be pulled out alive. In a weird way, it's like we were all denied even that small consolation, one tiny ray of hope that people might survive. Or that we might, if we were ever in such a horrible situation.

I truly am glad--very glad--for the miners and their families. There's nothing wrong with that. But I did realize with a start that one of the reasons I was so happy to hear it was because, subconsciously, I was still hoping that someone would be dug out of that WTC rubble. In a way, I felt a little better because of those miners. Sometimes someone does survive.

That's all.