Flying on 911
There was a distinct quiet in the Minneapolis Airport this morning as I arrived early for my flight. It wasn't until I got through check in and security that I sat with my Caribou coffee listening to the memorial service from Ground Zero. Then the news commentator stopped and said that this was the very moment 7 years ago when the planes hit....and there was silence on the TV and silence in sitting area around our gate.
How our world has changed since that Tuesday morning 7 years ago, just as the Salem preschool parents were dropping off children and workers were well underway with the church expansion. Not being a super-patriotic person, I walked our American flag out to the front sign and planted it on the corner. Then came the...and then the...and then more of the....and our world has changed, morphed, matured, lost its innocence, cried, blamed, polarized and globalized.
Our 757 was filled with loud and boisterous Ohio State fans decked out in bright red going off to do battle on the gridiron at USC on Saturday. The young man behind me loaded up on three mini-bottles of whiskey to get the weekend off to a buzz, but filling our area with his sweet stench of inebriation.
I remember the silent skies in the Twin Cities and the stories from my brother in the Washington DC area, of battle groups and fighter planes making sorties. As we loaded into the plane, I remembered. As we took off up through the clouds and rain, I remembered. As we settled into our flight and getting ready for our beverages, I remembered.
And when we touched down finally in Santa Barbara and I got into the car with Martha for our uneventful ride home, I remembered.