Soapbox

So I’ve got these kids…

and they’re both alive and well. I’m focusing on that, right now.
A day that will live in infamy, they say. It’s almost too much to think about, let alone write about, but here I am trying. I wonder how wise- or foolish- these thoughts will seem, years from now.

Strange to think that the day started out like any other, with my mind full of thoughts of school schedules and choir practice and getting the garbage put out for collection. I was in the basement writing an e-mail about Steve’s first day of high school when the phone rang. It was Ted.
"Turn on the TV" he said bruskly.
"What channel" I asked.
"Any channel" he replied.

And there it was, a long-distance view of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, looking like a pair of just-extinguished candles, with plumes of smoke drifting high into the glorious vault of the blue September sky. I gaped in disbelief at the silent video images I saw, and heard the calm voices of the commentators explaining that airplanes had crashed into the towers. It was quite eerie to watch, because it was obvious that at the location it must be noise and utter bedlam; smoke and fire and death. I was still on the phone talking to Ted, who was annoyed that he was unable to watch a web cast on his work computer, when I suddenly gasped and cried, "Oh my God, oh no, no, no!" One of the towers had just collapsed and crashed to the street below in a deadly rain of smoke, flames and steel.
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