My 9/11
We always said that Melba Clark was in charge of “alphanumeric prestidigitation.” That meant she was a phenomenal typist. And she was a favorite of everyone in the department, an attractive, outspoken Southern belle in her fifties with an engaging smile and a great sense of humor. I was sitting at my desk in my office at work that morning, and Melba came in. “A plane just hit the World Trade Center.” I think I laughed and said something stupid like, “Oops! How could somebody do that?” Then I added, “A plane hit the Empire State Building back in the forties, I think.” And that’s the last I thought about it until she came back in a few minutes later. “Another plane hit the other tower.” It wasn’t funny anymore. “What!?” My jaw dropped. Melba stood looking at me soberly. “This is terrorism!” I said. I called Cindy right away and told her to turn on the TV. At work we tried to use the new technology called “the Internet” to see what was happening, but it was so overloaded with