On September 5, 2001, Julien Menichini was in the middle of a trip to New York City, photographing landmarks up and down Manhattan. He has some are excellent pictures of the World Trade Center, which he took as he prepared to ride up to the observation deck. He also took photographs of New York City skyscrapers, showing the top of the World Trade Center North Tower, taken on September 5, 2001, from the South Tower’s 107th floor observation deck. (/www.theatlantic.com/photo/2011/09/911-the-week-before/100142/0.)
On September 6, 2001, Sgt. First Class James Freeman spoke with a potential U.S. Army recruit at a recruiting station in New York City.
Three days later, crowds filled Arthur Ashe Stadium prior to the men’s final at the U.S. Open Tennis Championship in New York.
The next day, September 10, 2001, President Bush greeted Justina Elementary School students in Jacksonville, Florida, during a Leadership Forum on the importance of reading programs for children.
And then, everything changed.
Life went along as usual up to that moment. Photographers took pictures, political leaders met with other leaders or attended events. People watched while athletes performed. Military recruiters talked with prospects. Writers had deadlines. Custodians had rooms to clean.
None of the 2, 977 people terrorists killed knew their fate that day. I suppose that everyone who worked at the World Trade Center planned to arrive there, take breaks, eat lunch, work that afternoon, and go home, in probably the same way they had come. They would see their loved ones that night. Or soon.
Other victims boarded the planes that went down in Pennsylvania or into the World Trade Center
NO ONE knew the tragedy that awaited them. They were just ordinary people going to work.
I wonder about those who never said good-bye or hugged someone dear to them because they were in a hurry and had other matters on their mind.
Life moves along until something slaps us, reminding us how precious each moment is. But we forget, and it’s good to remember how fragile life is on days like September 11.
What’s consuming you today? Is it causing you to miss the good stuff:
Like paying attention to what you are doing at any given moment, instead of sleep-walking through much of the day, wondering where you will be in five years or what you were doing five years ago? Like thinking about what to say next instead of listening to the person who is talking to you. Like looking at some random text on your cell phone, oblivious to God’s creation dancing around you?
I occasionally have to yank myself by the ear: “David,” I say, “doggone it, stay in the moment. Someone will be elected president in November, whether you obsess about it or not; you aren’t likely to get COVID-19, if you’ll wear a mask and wash your hands; if you don’t get your work done, people will do fine without it; if people drift away from the faith during COVID-19, that’s not your fault, you can only do your part; college football season will kick-off or it won’t, regardless of what you think or do; your wife or children will take care of you when you get old and can’t take care of yourself, or the Lord will send someone your way who will, or best scenario: He will return before all that.”
Then, after having given myself a good dressing-down, I’m good. All I can do is focus on staying in the moment, doing the next right thing, trusting God to do for me what I can’t do for myself.
In the early days of Christianity, James said it like this: “How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” (James 4:14).
And we don’t know when morning fog will lift for us.
So, I’ll focus on this day, embracing each moment, for this moment, is the only moment I have.