BY JACK CRISS
DBJ Executive Editor

It is absolutely amazing how just a few tragic moments can change the entire course of a life and a culture. I am referring, of course, to the September 11 terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, D.C. Already, just a few days after the event, I have heard more than one person comment on the way things “used to be.” The same sentiment is expressed when others say things “will never be the same.” Our country has indeed been shaped by a cataclysmic incident. What do we do now?
Like so many of you, there are times when I have been absolutely glued to the television or radio, taking in the rapid fire reporting and updates on this attack. There have also been times when, too saddened or just too numb, I’ve had to try to forget I’m even aware of what happened. Unfortunately, I cannot do that. None of us can. America now has a pall cast over it, and will for some time. Perhaps forever.
I’ve tried to make sense of the events that have transpired, like everyone else. I’ve read and listened to the experts, the philosophers, the politicians, the preachers, and I still don’t have a firm grasp on the attacks. Yes, I’m angry. Yes, I’m appalled that, just this past May, Colin Powell proudly announced an additional $43 million in relief aid to Afghanistan, money we damn well should know ultimately went to the Taliban. And, of course, I am grieving over my fellow countrymen who were killed and the loss of security my country now has. But I am also bewildered. Everything seems changed now after September 11. All feels differently.
I wonder if the newfound sense of overwhelming Americana people are feeling now is the nation’s bewildered reaction, as well. I love my country with a deep sense of reverence and awe at how we were founded in the 18th century by our brilliant Founding Fathers. I base my patriotism on the ideological roots of this country and whatever is left of them today. The patriotism I’m seeing now is a reactive one, a sad answer to a unfathomable attack. No doubt it is moving. It certainly moves me to see our flags waving on people’s cars and outside their homes and offices. But it is not a celebratory patriotism at all. I only wish it were.
So now we are left with the prospect of war (which I support wholeheartedly with these two critical caveats: we go after all those nations that harbor terrorists and do so decisively, and we don’t wait for the blessings and sanction of every two-bit dictatorship and banana republic around the world); we are left with a New York skyline forever changed; we are left with many grieving survivors. We are left with ourselves, our new lives in a new day, with a memory of how things “used to be.” I ask again: What do we do now?
I can only say that I will keep on with life as I know it, as best I can, as I am sure you all will. Much more cautious, however, much more cynical and scared; but also much more caring of my loved ones, friends and associates and more cognizant of the preciousness of life. As we saw, over and over again in ghastly detail, it can all—they can all—be taken away from us in the blink of a terrorist’s eye. DBJ