Twenty Years After

Has it really been that long?

Has it really been two decades since the towers fell? Since the massive clouds of white debris snaked their way down the surrounding streets, blotting out the sunlight of an otherwise cloudless early autumn morning?

Yes, it has. And no, it hasn't.

Twenty years have indeed elapsed since terrorists flew two hijacked airliners into each of the towers of the World Trade Center, causing the buildings to collapse and killing 2,753 people (according to Wikipedia). The same terrorist group then flew a plane into the Pentagon, killing even more. One more plane intended to be flown into a building (maybe the White House, maybe the Capitol) crashed in in a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

We watched it all unfold on live TV, and we've seen the events of that day replayed over and over again since then--on newscasts, in documentaries, on the big screen and the small.

The thing I remember most about that day isn't the carnage, nor the collapse of two of the most iconic buildings in the world

It's the sky.

The sky in Chicago that day was a deep, rich shade of blue, absolutely clear of clouds.

And of airplanes. And helicopters. And any other type of flying machine. Even the birds seemed to take a moment to stop and listen to the horrible, deafening silence.

Every flight had been grounded all across North America, if not the whole world, out of an abundance of caution. For the first time in my lifetime, nothing was flying overhead as I made my way home. It was eerie. And unsettling.

Now here we are, 20 years later. We fought a war. Did we win it? Lose it? Historians will assess the damages later.

Right now? I don't feel any safer than I did that afternoon in 2001. I don't work in a highrise in downtown Chicago anymore--currently work in a one-story nondescript building on a nondescript street in a nondescript suburb of the big city. Doesn't mean something couldn't happen to or from the job--I ride the CTA's Purple Line every morning and afternoon, and Lord knows there have been terrorist threats to the city's transportation system since...well, since the damn thing was built in the 1890s.

But consider that one of the planes crashed that day in Shanksville, PA--nowhere near any major target. Granted, the terrorists were likely trying to steer it toward a large building somewhere on the Eastern seaboard, but the fact is that it crashed in a rural community. Nowhere was safe that day. Nowhere.

Just like nowhere is safe today. Nowhere.

We can only remain vigilant and hope that we can prevent any such attack from ever happening on American soil again.

Hope. As good a word to end on as any.