So close and yet so far

Jorge flew out last night.

Hon, I'm flying on September 12th...

Yeah, I know, just after midnight, but It's still 9/11 back in the States...

Not that I'm a complete paranoid, but those other guys, the liquids-on-the-planes guys, were definitely cooking something up and what more perfect opportunity to rub our faces in it than to pull another major terrorist act on the anniversary of the first, right?

So we dropped him at the international terminal (Really, terminal and depart, such funereal terms the airline industry chooses. Instead, why not Happy Travel Building and Time to Fly? They need to think about that.) carrying only a small backpack with a change of clothes and his briefcase. He was wearing flip-flops and had left behind his braided iron slave bracelet and belt to avoid the removing of shoes and metal detector delays (Please step over here, sir...) that are routine when he flies.

There was a brief mention of September 11 here yesterday and the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) ran the documentary The Falling Man, which we watched, transfixed, last week.

Maybe I am fascinated with the images from that day because we were the minority of people who missed it all. The girls and I were in New Jersey and had gone to visit a local museum just after a call from my mother making sure we were not going into Manhattan and telling us to check out the TV, where a quick look showed one burning tower. Terrible accident, we thought and called my brother, working near Times Square, to ask if he could see it. He had not heard the news but headed up to his rooftop to watch. We arrived at the museum a few minutes later and after paying our admission to the woman who sobbed, "Terrible, isn't it?" figuring she must have known someone involved in the accident or was an overly sensitive person, proceeded to spend several hours alone enjoying all the exhibits. Not until my (ex) sister-in-law came back grey-faced from a chat with her museum co-workers did we learn what the rest of the world already knew. We saw the smoke across the river, but not until we attempted a U-turn in a driveway which turned out to be the municipal airport and were stopped by soldiers brandishing automatic weapons did we begin to believe it could be true. For the rest of the week we sat stunned, glued to the television.


Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

-- Francis Scott Key