How we look at the world has changed forevermore

By Brian Laird

Special to The Capital-Journal

NEW YORK --- It has been strange to sit at work these past couple of days and hear Air Force jets screaming overhead and the news constantly buzzing around the office.

I've been walking around with the image of that first plane etched in my mind, framed by the window of the commuter train. None of the images from television --- even more horrific than my view from the train or from across the river --- have been able to clear this.

Wednesday night, Effie and I walked to the train to find a ghostly cloud of white smoke blanketing Manhattan. From as far as we could see to the north, the entire island was covered in a thin veil illuminated by the lights of the city.

In the wound where the World Trade Center towers once stood, there was a luminescent bluish-white glow. The only things Effie and I could think of were the souls floating above the city in this cloud, and the men below it desperate for survivors.

Concentration has been a hard thing to come by recently, but everyone seems to manage. This disaster has stoked a sense of American pride in everyone that has made it impossible not to spot a flag flying, or overhear a conversation about what's coming to "the bastards who did this."

Many people are still quiet, some avoid thinking about it at all, but most are united and angry.

This is not the end of the world, as many people may have thought initially, but a cleansing. It has opened our eyes to a threat that will never be victorious, let alone survive.

Thursday wasn't as quiet as the day before. I think that people far enough away from the disaster are finally trying their best to go to work and be as productive as possible, while still thinking of what may come next.

It has been hard to sleep. Terrorism has a new meaning to me now. It used to be that terrorism was just a phrase used to describe violent acts far away from home.

Thursday night it rained, and with every clap of thunder I was startled. For a brief time the New York airports were opened, and every plane that flew overhead scared me, especially the ones that flew low to JFK.

Every time a police car or fire truck goes by now, I jump, and I wonder when a bus or a train or a car will explode somewhere nearby.

Even if we turn Afghanistan into a gravel pit, we will never be sure that would-be terrorists aren't running around in our streets. I can't blame people for their prejudice anymore.

Brian Laird was raised in Topeka. His mother,

Linda Laird, works for The Topeka Capital-Journal.

Copyright 2001
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.