VOICES: A walk in the woods after 9/11

I live in the shadow and exhilaration of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, in greater Dayton, Ohio, a designated command post. The residents are tied by routine, economically and emotionally, to the vapor trails, the sonic booms, the mighty carriers and agile jets that routinely wake us in the morning or disturb our neighborhood conversations. I was reminded of our unique connection in sound and space by a visiting friend, who said, during the hours after Sept. 11, 2001, that a storm must be coming because she heard thunder.

There were no storms on that fateful Tuesday, but it was an extraordinary day in and around the Air Force base. Gates were barricaded and war-equipped guards had been posted. An unusual quiet settled among whispering residents who listened to the otherwise silent skies for consistent and suspicious echoes of jets approaching the military compound. Civilian personnel, confused because they were considered “non-essential” and not welcome inside the gates, maintained an alert as they watched their television sets. There were erroneous reports of plane crashes and fires, which most of us believe now were unconfirmed sonic booms as Wright-Pat assumed responsibility for Air Force One air space above our heads. Traffic lines at gas stations extended into suburban thoroughfares. There were rumors of shortages. Many believed war had begun and the Dayton area, we knew, would be a major target because of its strategic location and military function.

As the heinous Tuesday ended and the next days began, unrest and panic moved into patient civilian preparation. The full roster of employees clogged the roadways and awaited lengthy approval checks by armed soldiers as base gates began opening. Whatever was said behind those eight-foot chain-link walls, no one was at liberty to discuss and few asked. There was a determined quiet around the city, respecting the vital role the base plays during national crises. Dayton’s traffic patterns became less congested, as civilians and military personnel adjusted to the new schedules.

But there continued to be “thunder” in the Greater Dayton skies, the sights and sounds of massive carriers and specialized jets coming and going, populating our senses, and filling us with pride and anxiety.

At no time was that more dramatic that during my weekly early morning guided nature walk at the Aullwood/National Audubon Center. At times, the naturalist had to delay his presentation as our binoculars moved from a wolf spider to patriotic-banded aircraft moving overhead. Only the week before we had observed feathered friends coalesce in their migratory pursuits of warmer air. That particular week there were fewer to view, all of them frightened, no doubt, by the shocking interruption to the quiet reserve. Perhaps they had pondered whether to explore other migratory paths that would be less traveled.

Juxtaposed with my walk in the wild, the experience was a reminder of how responsible we, as human beings, are for not only our own lives but the lives of all living things. Such a tiny part of this earth’s vast beauty, and yet, we, and our elected leaders, ironically, hold the future of this vital planet in their hands.

Lenore Christopher is a retired journalist and columnist, whose last position was as Dayton editor of The Catholic Telegraph.

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