Crisis Really Is a Great Editor

I'm sure I will find something to post re: the politics, the wars, etc. in the now 5 years since 9/11 on that day, but for now I will stick with this piece by columnist Peggy Noonan, an excellent writer with a special gift for writing about the heart and the human element of things. I won't lie, reading this story made my eyes well up with tears, my heart breaking for all those left behind from the final calls on that fateful September morning, and at the same time, filling with admiration at the courage and focus of the doomed callers who left those wrenching messages.

Despite facing certain death, the now-deceased victims of 9-11 were more concerned about those they loved than themselves. Even if they only had a couple of minutes to talk, they prayed, expressed their love, and said their goodbyes because that was the most important thing and it had to be done, even though deep down they were likely terrified. The passengers of United Flight 93 took it still another step further, attacking the terrorists and storming the cockpit of the plane and driving it into the ground, knowing their chances of survival were slim, but slim beats nothing any day.

They made this sacrifice to save the lives of people they'd never met in Washington D.C., and that is simply heroic. I know in my heart that I am of the same stock and class of man as Todd Beamer, the passenger who courageously led the counterattack against the terrorists on Flight 93. While I don't welcome trouble, I have always been a game-time player, someone who excels when the lights are on and the game is on the line, and I would not shrink from the challenge of answering such a call should I be placed in a similar situation one day. More than that, I hope the person I end up with is someone I love so much, so hard, so deeply, that God forbid, if I should find myself in such dire straits someday, that my first and last thoughts on this earth will be of her, that she knows and fully appreciates the kind of man I am, and that the same is true of her feelings of me (as soon as I settle up the last earthly accounts with my maker, of course) Read the whole thing, it's worth your time, and pray for the families and loved ones left behind from that day, because they've relived that morning in their head every day since then.

"I think too about the sounds that came from within the buildings and within the planes--the phone calls and messages left on answering machines, all the last things said to whoever was home and picked up the phone. They awe me, those messages.

Something terrible had happened. Life was reduced to its essentials. Time was short. People said what counted, what mattered. It has been noted that there is no record of anyone calling to say, "I never liked you," or, "You hurt my feelings." No one negotiated past grievances or said, "Vote for Smith." Amazingly --or not--there is no record of anyone damning the terrorists or saying "I hate them."

No one said anything unneeded, extraneous or small. Crisis is a great editor. When you read the transcripts that have been released over the years it's all so clear. ...

Peter Hanson, a passenger on United Airlines Flight 175 called his father. "I think they intend to go to Chicago or someplace and fly into a building," he said. "Don't worry, Dad--if it happens, it will be very fast." On the same flight, Brian Sweeney called his wife, got the answering machine, and told her they'd been hijacked. "Hopefully I'll talk to you again, but if not, have a good life. I know I'll see you again some day."

There was Tom Burnett's famous call from United Flight 93. "We're all going to die, but three of us are going to do something," he told his wife, Deena. "I love you, honey."

These were people saying, essentially, In spite of my imminent death, my thoughts are on you, and on love. I asked a psychiatrist the other day for his thoughts, and he said the people on the planes and in the towers were "accepting the inevitable" and taking care of "unfinished business." "At death's door people pass on a responsibility--'Tell Billy I never stopped loving him and forgave him long ago.' 'Take care of Mom.' 'Pray for me, Father. Pray for me, I haven't been very good.' " They address what needs doing.

This reminded me of that moment when Todd Beamer of United 93 wound up praying on the phone with a woman he'd never met before, a Verizon Airfone supervisor named Lisa Jefferson. She said later that his tone was calm. It seemed as if they were "old friends," she later wrote. They said the Lord's Prayer together. Then he said "Let's roll." ...

This is what I get from the last messages. People are often stronger than they know, bigger, more gallant than they'd guess. And this: We're all lucky to be here today and able to say what deserves saying, and if you say it a lot, it won't make it common and so unheard, but known and absorbed.

I think the sound of the last messages, of what was said, will live as long in human history, and contain within it as much of human history, as any old metallic roar."