After all the planes were grounded on Tuesday I suddenly realized how I viewed the sky. As a traveler I see it as small. An avenue to get me to where I want to go. But Tuesday, driving home from work, I did not see a single plane. There was no traffic in the sky. It was huge.

And it was quiet. I’ve never realized the ambient noise the planes that constantly flew overhead made, and how I had become accustomed to it.

But that’s not all that was quiet. Driving, with my window open, I never heard the thump of teen-aged bass. Drivers weren’t gunning their engines. There was no yelling, no kids screaming in the neighborhoods. There was a strange calmness. Most radios were tuned to talk radio. Sporting events were cancelled, Brownie meetings, malls were closed. People were staying inside to listen to the news. Would they find any hope? Glean any good?

No. There was little, and there remains to be little.

Wednesday night, after it seemed all hope was lost, I wearily trudged to bed. I had a lot on my mind, as does everyone else. It was a nice night, so the windows were open. I lay in bed, trying to calm down my mind so that I may relax and fall asleep.

I finally began to drift off. Then my heart was seized with an icy shock. There was a jet in the sky. The unaccustomed silence had been sliced with a familiar sound. But now it had a new context.

Our airport hadn’t been reopened yet, so I felt a moment of fear. The sounds I was hearing was clearly a jet with its flaps up, slowing its forward velocity in preparation to land. And it was big. It was a military jet, to be sure. But it sounded huge. I don’t know where it was going, or what it was doing, but I have an idea I’ll hear more in the coming weeks and months. And, I have a pretty good idea that I’ll know exactly what they’re preparing for.

Yes, it seems we are at war, though no enemy has been declared. No enemy is known right now. The biggest enemy is fear. And this war is nothing we’ve ever experienced. It may be long, protracted. How many countries will be involved? How many neighbors will be asked to risk their lives?

Will we ever recover? Will our lives ever be the same? No. But we must go on.

Because there is no nation to target, people seem to want to point fingers as a racial group. Arab-Americans. Muslims. Please, do NOT attack Arab-Americans. They are here to escape the terror that we are now experiencing. They too want to live a better life. They, too, are Americans.

These terrorists, bastards that they are, no more represent the religion of Islam than David Koresh represented Christianity. They no more represent Arabs as a whole than Hitler Milosovich represented the whole of the Slavic people.

Think straight. Look in the right direction. Please.

So what can you do? What can we do? Donate money of course, blood, time. Focus whatever spiritual feelings you have towards good will and a world of peace.

But the best thing I can say is raise your children to reject hate. Teach them tolerance, understanding. Teach them to be good human beings and not to embrace beliefs that preach pain, hurt and hate. Teach them that human life, above all, should be cherished.

Horrible people will always exist. We cannot get rid of them. But we can teach our children that the world doesn’t have to be a horrible place. That they don’t have to accept this sort of terror. That they can rise above horrible acts and show the world that peace can be achieved through understanding. That you can accomplish amazing things without the need to shed blood wantonly.