By Guinn Sweet | firstname.lastname@example.org
In Shakespeare’s “Macbeth,” his main character says to the doctor: “Canst thou not minister to a mind … pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow … and with some sweet antidote cleanse the bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart?”
On Tuesday of this week we will return, in our weighted memories of 11 years ago, about 8 a.m. central time. Again and again my mind has returned me to that morning as if it were yesterday. I was watching “Today” on TV, drinking coffee and planning a prayer meeting at my house for a group of ladies from Victory Baptist Church. As is normal, my cup ran dry before I was finished with all my musings, watchings and plannings; I needed a refill.
While draining the coffee pot contents into my cup, and hoping that it was still warm enough to drink (I hate wasting coffee) I heard from the distance of the living room a voice, slightly raised, tell his audience that an errant airplane was flying erratically over the city of New York. This was no big deal; in my mind was still the memory of a flyer doing the same thing in a small plane just a few days before.
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