Sulphur River Autumnal Equinox 2001 [antikvár]

TRIBUTARIES September 11, 2001 This column is almost always the last item to be completed before an issue goes to the printer, usually because I have trouble deciding what to write about. And I was facing that struggle with this issue, but then suddenly, the decision was made for me. On this morning, as on most others, I turnéd on the television for a quick survey of the morning news. Everything was normál. I went downstairs for a bowl of cereal, and when I returned, everything had changed. The images that were being broadcast were horrible and just kept getting worse. Tower one of the World Trade Center was on fire, black smoke billowing upwards, the commentators incredulous that an airplane could somehow collide with the tower. At first, it seemed only a horrible accident, but then, as we watched, another airliner collided with tower two, and it became apparent that the United States of America was under terrorist attack. Soon other reports came in; the Pentagon was struck by another pláne, while yet another crashed in rural Pennsylvania. The images of death and destruction almost too much to bear, the devastation of somé of the world's most recognizable buildings, Manhattan covered in smoke, flames engulfing the upper portions of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, people jumping from the flames to their certain deaths, and over and over again, that second airliner flying headlong into tower two. And then, the collapse of the towers, dust and debris raining down on Manhattan in a roar of devastation that must have seemed for New Yorkers the end of the world. It was real. It was happening before my very eyes, and I still could not belive it, could hardly comprehend what was occurring. Slowly, information began to trickle in. Muslim terrorists had hijacked the planes with knives, taking control and using them as huge bombs in suicide missions designed to bring the United States to its knees. The death toll could easily reach into the thousands, if not tens of thousands. In the days ahead, as the individual stories begin to emerge,