Eight years ago, at almost this exact moment, one of my co-workers walked by the work pod I shared with a couple of other folks and told us that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. A bad and very unfortunate accident, I thought. A half-hour later, I knew, along with the whole world, just how wrong that assessment was. Two hours after that, both of the Twin Towers were piles of rubble and remains. Yes, a few walked out of the rubble alive, a very few. There have been far bloodier days in American history, but not involving civilians.
We've been at war ever since. Not with Iraq, nor Afghanistan. Most certainly not with Islam. No, with barbarians who have perverted a religion that has common roots with mine, one whose holy writ espouses peace.
Let's remember, in appropriate silence, those who fell. Let's give thanks for those who survived, and for those who labored to rescue the injured, then to identify the unknown. And let's fight the good fight, both to make peace with those who will live along with us and to end those who would destroy us, simply because we live free.
