There are a lot of stand-out days in my life that I will always remember either for the happiness, the thrill, the satisfaction of a job well-done . . . Even as I recall such personal events, however, I don’t think I remember them in as clear detail as I do the day I saw that plane deliberately crash in the first of the two towers in New York. It took a few seconds to realize that someone had purposely crashed a plane into the building, there were people in the building beginning their day, and the place would soon be swarmed by rescue factions to save everyone.
Sad to say, a great many of the people already in the tower at that moment began and ended their day within minutes while more fortunate ones managed to escape down the stairs into the smokey billows already filling the air outside. Firemen and other rescue crews bravely went against the exiting confusion of people in order to save anyone who couldn’t make it out on their own. Many of those brave men ended their early shift for that day forever when the building crashed down.
I remember seeing the television reporters running to their desks on the news stations, hurriedly dressed and unkept probably wondering on WHAT the news was that needed to be reported. Eventually, the last of the warring planes had crashed and the world was left in shock and sorrow. Some stories were heard of people who were miraculously saved from death because they were late, a flat tire, sudden illness, etc. Way too many hugged their wives, husbands, and children goodbye for the last time.
Even all these years later, it is difficult to watch the news reports from that day as one always has a wistful thought in the back of their mind about ‘maybe the ending will be different THIS time’ . . . but it never is and tears are often just as poignat and sorrowful as the first time we witnessed this news.