Sunday, August 18, 2002
I'm probably not the first to suggest it, but the first I read it was in this week's Weekend Journal: the perfect inscription for the rebuilt Ground Zero, from E. B. White.
This race--this race between the destroying planes and the struggling Parliament of Man--it sticks in all our heads. The city at last perfectly illustrates both the universal dilemma and the general solution, this riddle in steel and stone is at once the perfect target and the perfect demostration of nonviolence, of racial brotherhood, this lofty target scraping the skies and meeting the destroying planes halfway, home of all people and all nations, capital of everything.
I can just picture it written in the sky at the top of Fred Turner's new twin towers.
And I do wish we'd get on with the battle against the evildoers, so we can rebuild without fear that all will be destroyed again, in an instant on another beautiful fall morning.