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KA~
There was no color guard on Wednesday.
In years past, the TSA at the airport where I work has performed a small ceremony to mark the fateful Tuesday 23 years ago that changed the world. They start at one end of the terminal and time their run to wind up right in front of a clock over the main entrance. At 7:46 AM Central, they would post their flags, beginning a moment of silence. People would stop in their tracks. Conversations paused mid-sentence. Check-in could wait. It was a small but powerful gesture—a nice way to say we hadn't forgotten.
Not this year, though. Even the piped-in overhead music kept going.
It's funny now that I'm old enough to have lived through history. I used to hear my parents talk about those sorts of events—the kind where everyone can remember exactly where they were, no matter what. Boomers have JFK; we have Challenger (and maybe) Columbia.
We all have 9/11.
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