Today is the 25th anniversary of the day terrorists flew airplanes into buildings, and the day where a few brave souls, knowing what was going on, prevented one instance of that happening, sending that specific plane into a field in Pennsylvania. It was a day that altered the course of history. It started America's war on terror, and complicated domestic air travel. It generated fear, anger, and retaliation. That action showed how utterly and senselessly destructive hatred can bring humans to behave. It also brought out the best in us.
For the briefest of moments, America was united in outrage and grief. While trying to make sense of an act that ultimately had no rational explanation, we cared for one another, focused on healing and rebuilding. We didn't care about the political beliefs of those who perished, only that they were no longer here. We didn't question the religious affiliation of those who searched through the rubble, looking for survivors. Instead, for an instant in time, we worked as one to process the events and forge a path forward.
Equally remarkable was the outpouring of empathy and support from the international community. To most of the world, we were a shining example of what freedom should look like, and the most generous country on the planet. Most of the world was just as shocked as we were, and they openly shared in our grief and disbelief.
Now, twenty-five years later, nothing remains of the unity. We have predictably returned to our petty bickering and squabbling, and it's gotten so bad that the rest of the world is turning their collective back to us. I'm having a difficult time with this. I think back to the day and can almost relive parts of it; the memories are that vivid. I can't help but mentally compare and contrast our society then vs. now, and I feel despair over our squandered opportunity to do better together.
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