From the Heart

The world, as we know it, has changed. That's how it feels.

As I make calls to friends and sources, to see what they're hearing, the reaction is one of numbness and fear. Numbness about what has happened. Fear of the uncertainty. Everybody, it seems, knows somebody, directly or indirectly, who is most likely gone. Directly through friendships and business relationships. (We all know Bill Meehan, the greatest guy on earth, was on the 105th floor of the North tower of the World Trade Center.) Indirectly we knew them through their faces on television or quotes in a newspaper. Or as neighbors, friends of neighbors, friends of friends.

So many of us who traveled to San Francisco from New York have taken United Flight 93 from Newark to San Francisco -- the plane that crashed this morning in Pennsylvania.

My 12-year-old son and I watched on television this morning as the first World Trade Center tower went up in smoke. Hey, we were up there on the observation deck. Who hasn't at one time been up there gazing in awe? Somebody was probably there when the plane crashed. Maybe they watched the dawn of what appeared to be a beautiful day in New York. There, but for the grace of God, we keep thinking, it could've been us.

I think about how this will scar and scare our kids. (Should we have sent them to school, shouldn't we have sent them to school? Yes, we did; I thought they'd be better off with their friends.)

The goal, as a journalist, is to attempt to report the news. Unfortunately, much of my world is caught up in that news.

More from me as the numbness wears off and we can make sense of it all.