September 12, 2001

I live in southern Missouri, far away from the action and devastation of yesterday's terrorist assaults on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be a native New Yorker today, dealing with the very beginning of the aftermath of the unbelievable piece of inhumanity that we were all forced to swallow yesterday. However, I can't help but try to imagine what it must have been like yesterday. . .

What did the people think as they plummeted 80 stories from the World Trade Center, having jumped to avoid the flames? Or did they even think anything at all, acting only on the instinct of the moment? What was it like to witness these bodies falling from the sidewalk outside the buildings rather than the small, impersonal images on a TV screen? How terrible was it to be stuck on a floor above the initial explosions, knowing that there was no way to get down to safety?

How did the passengers of the hijacked flights feel when they called their loved ones and tell them that they were about to die? How did their loved ones feel, knowing that this would be the last time they would speak to their spouses, parents, or children?

How does it feel to be at ground zero of an explosion of that magnitude? Did it happen so fast that the passengers of the planes felt nothing? Or was the moment of their deaths protracted into a horrifying, painful slow-motion sequence, where they saw their flesh burn away and felt their lives slowly leaving their bodies?

As hard as I try, I can't get these questions out of my head. I keep trying to place myself in the positions of those victims, and I know that I can never know the how they felt or what they thought without having to be in their place myself. Regardless of my curiosity, I could never willingly pay that price.

But these questions pale in comparison to my other knee-jerk reaction--to try to put myself in the place of the terrorists. What drives someone to commit the murders of thousands of innocent people? Men, women, and children who were merely trying to go home, or going on vacation, or just going in to the office on yet another typical workday. And what cause is so important that you not only will commit mass murder of the worst degree, but you are also willing to die for it yourself?

These are all things I can't understand. And they are made all the more frightening because the victims were truly innocent. They were merely going about their everyday lives when, for no reason at all, they were put through a horrifying ordeal that they had no control over which ended in their inevitable deaths.

It is possible that I may be one of the few to harbor these thoughts and fears, but somehow I have a feeling that I'm in good company. I'm pretty sure that there were others watching the news reports yesterday and wondering what it was like to be caught up in the chaos that was Lower Manhattan, September 11, 2001. That is why the whole country is still reeling from the tragedy, and why we are getting sympathy from all over the world. The terror inspired by this act of terrorism is sufficient to strike fear into the hearts of people worldwide.

The question that I keep coming back to, again and again, is this: How many of the casualties of this tragedy felt they were destined to do something else, something bigger with their lives? How many corporate desk jockeys died yesterday hating their jobs, wanting only to be a painter, a writer, or a musician? And who's to say that the same thing won't happen to me? Here I am doing PR for a marketing company, when I have a degree in Creative Writing and a good deal of skill playing the guitar. I'm thirty years old, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm sure it's not a Director of Public Relations.

So maybe some good will come out of this. Maybe people will realize how short and unpredictable life is and lighten up a little. Maybe instead of stressing out and working eighty hours a week, they will take off a little early and come home to throw a football around with their son. Maybe they will turn off the TV and read a book, write a novel, or paint a picture. Maybe people will begin to live their lives, knowing that if they don't start now, their lives may be over before they have even begun.

My heart and best wishes go out to all those who have lost loved ones in this unforgivable and outrageous act of violence. I pray that we all will have the strength and courage to get through this.

—Chuck Tinsley