The images are forever imprinted in our minds.
First, of the planes crashing into the buildings. Then of the ensuing panic as it seemed every one in lower Manhattan was running in the streets or gazing into the smoke-filled sky above them. We saw bodies falling hundreds of feet to the pavement below. In disbelief we witnessed the two tallest buildings in New York City come crashing down and even more people trying to outrun the surging clouds of dust that quickly blanketed everyone and everything.
In our homes and offices we knew the United States had been engaged in battle. And the first warriors who answered the call to the front lines came almost immediately. They didn’t arrive in tanks and destroyers and fighter jets. They came in fire engines, ladder trucks, ambulances, police cars and commandeered city buses.
Hard to believe, but Tuesday it will be six years since that day. I’m sure that this weekend and over then next couple of days there will be the documentaries on television. The talking heads will revisit the day. The conspiracy theorists will flood the blogosphere. The names of the 3,000 or so who died will be read at memorial services. Flags will fly at half mast. Black ribbon will surround badges.
And that’s all well and good, because we don’t need to forget. Our lives were all changed that day.
The words of a song penned the week of 9-ll by The Eagles reflect how we were impacted.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
First, of the planes crashing into the buildings. Then of the ensuing panic as it seemed every one in lower Manhattan was running in the streets or gazing into the smoke-filled sky above them. We saw bodies falling hundreds of feet to the pavement below. In disbelief we witnessed the two tallest buildings in New York City come crashing down and even more people trying to outrun the surging clouds of dust that quickly blanketed everyone and everything.
In our homes and offices we knew the United States had been engaged in battle. And the first warriors who answered the call to the front lines came almost immediately. They didn’t arrive in tanks and destroyers and fighter jets. They came in fire engines, ladder trucks, ambulances, police cars and commandeered city buses.
Hard to believe, but Tuesday it will be six years since that day. I’m sure that this weekend and over then next couple of days there will be the documentaries on television. The talking heads will revisit the day. The conspiracy theorists will flood the blogosphere. The names of the 3,000 or so who died will be read at memorial services. Flags will fly at half mast. Black ribbon will surround badges.
And that’s all well and good, because we don’t need to forget. Our lives were all changed that day.
The words of a song penned the week of 9-ll by The Eagles reflect how we were impacted.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a Cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight. Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
They say that anger is just love disappointed.
They say that love is just a state of mind, but all this fighting over who will be anointed.
Oh how can people be so blind?
Oh they tell me there's a place over yonder,
cool water running through the burning sand,
cool water running through the burning sand,
until we learn to love one another we never reach the promise land.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a Cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight. Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
(Glenn Frey/Don Henley)
We were brought face to face with a wake up call that there is no certainty to life or security. Just like those thousands who went to work that morning in Manhattan and at the Pentagon, or who boarded three planes that never landed, we have no way of knowing we’ll make it home at day’s end.
But like most other things, time tends to close the hurts and heal the wounds so much so that we forget what it felt like that day. I’m not sure that is good.
So, let’s remember. Let’s say a prayer for the survivors, knowing Tuesday will be a difficult time for them. Stop by your local firehouse, police station or rescue squad and say thanks to those who continue to put our lives before their own when called. They heard it a lot six years ago. It wouldn’t hurt for them to hear it again. And pray for our troops in harm’s way, fighting to end the war there that began here. Let’s hope they come home soon.
We were brought face to face with a wake up call that there is no certainty to life or security. Just like those thousands who went to work that morning in Manhattan and at the Pentagon, or who boarded three planes that never landed, we have no way of knowing we’ll make it home at day’s end.
But like most other things, time tends to close the hurts and heal the wounds so much so that we forget what it felt like that day. I’m not sure that is good.
So, let’s remember. Let’s say a prayer for the survivors, knowing Tuesday will be a difficult time for them. Stop by your local firehouse, police station or rescue squad and say thanks to those who continue to put our lives before their own when called. They heard it a lot six years ago. It wouldn’t hurt for them to hear it again. And pray for our troops in harm’s way, fighting to end the war there that began here. Let’s hope they come home soon.
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