Twenty years ago today, we gathered around television sets and watched in horror as the unimaginable played out before our eyes. We stared in disbelief at images that were beyond comprehension – too shocking to accept, too disturbing to look away. For many long hours after the fourth plane struck, we could barely breathe – terrified with fear as to what would happen next.
I live about 60 miles north of New York City, in one of many communities where firefighters, police officers and other workers find the affordable housing and quality of life that make it worthwhile to commute into the city. My family spent that afternoon and evening searching for familiar faces in the footage of tens of thousands of men and women streaming out of New York City on foot, across bridges and along highways. We waited for neighbors to return home. We hugged our children. We prayed that we would awaken from a nightmare.
The days that followed were more dream than reality, as we searched for answers and consolation with little comfort. I can remember for weeks afterward searching the September sky day and night, watching for the return of overhead flights. I worried that we would never again feel safe at a large sporting event or public gathering. I can still feel the frustration of being unable to answer my three young sons when they asked: “why?”
We may never be able to answer that question nor know what motivates evil – but we face the twentieth anniversary of the worst terrorist attack in our history aware that outstanding men and women voluntarily stepped forward to enter our armed forces in order to protect us from additional attacks in its aftermath. They have provided the strong national defense that has protected our citizenry in the same proud tradition begun by our ancestors when they answered our new nation’s first call to arms.