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<UID>
0109140295
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
010914
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, September 14, 2001
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
NWS
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1A
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
PHoto GARY HERSHORN/Reuters
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

Even during the mornign rush hour Thursday, the streets in New York
City's Times Square remain relatively quiet. New Yorkers are slowlyy
attempting to return to their normal lives in the wake of Tuesday's attacks on
the World Trade Center.


</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
AFTER THE ATTACK
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 2001, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
OUR CHALLENGE: NOT TO CHANGE WHO WE ARE
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
As the stories mount from the survivors, almost all of them horrific, we hear
of an eerie darkness in the middle of the day, a billowing cloud of ash that
chased them down the city blocks, enveloped them, swallowed them, left them
face down in the street, hands over their heads, fearing their next choking
breath would be their last.

"It was pure black," a survivor named Jennifer Kouzi told me. She had just
started a new job at the World Trade Center. Now, Tuesday morning, she was
running from its collapse after a hijacked plane plowed into its walls and a
new war had begun.

"There was this tidal wave of smoke. It was like a horror movie. People were
trampling each other.

"All of a sudden I found myself on the ground. I thought I was going to die. I
covered my head with my arms and I prayed that a building wouldn't fall on me
...

"Later, when I stood up, I had inhaled such dust and ash I got sick right
there. It was like being blind. Pure blackness. I was groping around, I heard
a girl crying next to me, and we sort of found each other's hands . . ."

This was mid-morning. The sun was bright in the sky. Yet here was this young
woman, groping blindly, reaching for a stranger's hand . . .

How do we live now, in this new, unfathomable world where the lights go out in
the middle of the day? Is this plane safe? Is this building safe? Is this
moment safe, this hour, this sunny day -- or can it suddenly turn dark, the
way it did on Tuesday in lower Manhattan, at the Pentagon, and in a field in
Somerset, Pa.?

How do we live now? It is the question we ask as we head into our first
weekend of the new war, as we attempt to right our national posture, to dust
ourselves off, to pick ourselves up, as the airports slowly open to the skies,
as the markets slowly return to business, as the people slowly emerge from
their homes and begin to think about work and school -- even as we count the
dead from Tuesday's carnage and the numbers reach into the thousands.

How do we live now?



The drive for revenge

Do we become a war-mongering people, ready to swoop into any foreign land that
harbors terrorists, guns ablazing, burn it to the ground? Is that who we
become?

For so many years following Vietnam, America lost its taste for combat. The
draft was gone. So, too, was any consensus on "national interests." If a
president even suggested sending troops overseas -- Somalia, Kuwait -- there
were far more Americans saying "What for?" than "When do we go?"

This is different. This was home. This was on our shores. This was where we
live -- not even a military base, like the Pearl Harbor to which it is being
compared.

No, this was New York City, and Washington, D.C., and southwestern
Pennsylvania. These were workplaces and offices and our nation's capital. And
for the first time in my generation, I am hearing young men declaring, "I want
to enlist."

I am hearing a rustling boom of patriotism, that seems to surge every time TV
shows the footage of that 757 cutting a hole in New York's tallest
skyscrapers.

"Let's get them!" we cry.

But who? And where? There is no army waiting on the other side of the border.
There are no tanks or battleships or fighter jets in formation.

There is only a relative handful of fanatics, hiding in basements, moving at
night, training in secret, and then brazenly preparing for destruction in the
hardest place to find them, the wide open space of America, our own country,
stealing ID's, hiding in plain sight. Some of the hijackers of the four planes
Tuesday probably learned to fly them at American flights schools, and lived in
comfortable houses in Vero Beach, Fla., where many of our grandparents are
enjoying their retirement.

This is not your typical enemy. These are evil men blinded by zealot ideals.
They are networked and sheltered by small families and independent cells, one
hand unaware of what the other is doing. A battleship may be infinitely more
powerful than a single man, but a battleship is also easier to find than a
single terrorist, especially one as well-connected as Osama bin Laden, the
Saudi exile and chief suspect in this day of tragedy.

"In order to deal with these people, our intelligence will have to be willing
to do things it hasn't done before," predicted James Woolsley, the former CIA
director. "Right now we have rules that deter us from employing anyone with a
violent past.

"If you want to recruit someone from bin Laden's operation who doesn't have
violence in his past, you're not going to recruit anyone."

Already there are cries to change the way we do things, to send buckets of
money into counter-intelligence. Is that who we will become? Employers of the
down and dirty? Enticers of the very scum we abhor? What is our choice? Is
there any other way to fight a war waged in the sewers?

How do we live?



The drive for freedom

How do we fly? The airplane has become a fearful thing now. The FAA has
instituted new rules, that, in their early hours as airports slowly opened
Thursday, seemed designed more to slow things down than make things safe. No
curbside baggage. No non-passengers beyond the security checkpoints. No knives
allowed anywhere.

And yet, most knowledgeable observers say this is mere window dressing, that
to really protect the skies, we'd need trained professionals at every security
point, and armed marshals on every plane, and solid cockpit doors that lock,
and perhaps pilots carrying handguns.

Is this how we live? Would it make you feel safe? Or would it only make you
more aware of the dangers in the air?

And, finally, what of that which we do the best in America, fun, leisure,
entertainment?

When do we return? Professional sports were canceled through the weekend, the
first time the National Football League has canceled its full slate of Sunday
games. No college football, either. No baseball. No home run chase for Barry
Bonds. No exhibition hockey.

The Emmy Awards, scheduled for Sunday night, were postponed. Broadway shows
are closed. It is not out of fear -- let us not let the terrorists, even for a
moment, think that -- but, rather, out of respect, a chance for us to bury our
dead, a chance for us to use one weekend, one Sabbath, a day of rest and
reflection, to actually rest and reflect on who we are and how lucky we are to
be spending the weekend with those we love.

When you think about that, how hard could you cheer for a touchdown right now,
anyhow?

Yet come Monday morning, when we as Americans traditionally go back to work,
we will go back to life. And in the end, that is the answer to the question in
this column.

We go back. We go back to work, we go back to the stock market, which felt the
earth tremble beneath it Tuesday morning, we go back to our schools, our
sports, our leisure, we go back to our lives because we are, and let this not
sound arrogant to anyone outside America, entitled to them.

How do we live now? We live smarter. We live more aware. We live more
compassionately for other nations that face terrorism every day.

But we live freely. We move with our heads high. We smile and we talk and as
that darkness in the daytime lifts we see the sun again and soak in the great
air of a free country. We never give that up. Because if we give that up, they
win. And we will not, simply not, now or ever, let that happen.



Contact MITCH ALBOM at 313-223-4581 or  albom@freepress.com. Catch "Albom in
the Afternoon" 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760) and simulcast on MSNBC 3-5
p.m.
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<DISCLAIMER>
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
US;TERRORISM;ATTACK;COLUMN
</KEYWORDS>
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