What can I say that would not be trite?
In the days following the attacks, the skies over Houston were so clear, so serenely blue—and empty. No planes, no helicopters. World Oil was going to press that week. I could FTP the files up to the printer in PA, and talk to my CSR on the phone and through email, but the boards, the proofs used to match each page file, couldn’t be shipped via FedEx, as there were no flights for a week. I remember how odd it was that the ether zones were still functional, yet a core industrial infrastructure had been disabled. It was a little reminiscent of a dystopian sci-fi novel.
The ideological cohorts of those who attacked us hold dear the notion of a world in which the temptations of modern life are abolished, yet all too often are all too eager to enjoy those sinful conveniences themselves, even as they denounce and attempt to destroy the foundations of the civilizational philosophy that underpins the technological accomplishment of our ease-filled lifestyle. The irony remains bitter and deep.
God rest the souls of the innocent workers in the towers, the terrified airline passengers and the brave rescuers who went back into the buildings to save as many as they could before the burning structures collapsed.
