I’ll never forget where I was that day.  I was Youth Pastor at Second Baptist Church in Hopkinsville, Kentucky.  I  arrived at the office early that morning.  Our financial secretary had a TV in her office that was connected to the church’s cable system.  She told me that there had been an accident and some kind of plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers.

She and I were glued to the TV, watching the coverage.  We saw the second plane hit the other tower in a live shot.  It was then that I knew we were under attack.  As reports rolled in about the Pentagon and other possible attack locations, I knew that life here in the U.S. would never be the same … or so I thought.  I am amazed at how much things have returned to the “same old, same old” of pathetic apathy and party politics.

Our home is near Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Air Assault Division and Task Force 160, the Special Forces Aviation Group (The “Black Hawk Down” Unit … those guys were based here.)  We have never forgotten the horror of that day, because we have family members constantly engaged in the ongoing battle against those whose Islamic fundamentalism would have them terrorize and dominate the world.  Soon some of our guys will be leaving for their third our in a combat zone in five years.  America, it seems, with it’s short-term memory fixation, wants desperately to forget the events of that day.  But we don’t have such a luxury in the shadow of a major military installation.

Where were you that day?  What were you doing?  What were your thoughts?  How do you feel about it now?