9/11

The 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center was a Tuesday. I remember this because Tuesday is chess night, and that day was no exception. The stunning horror of the morning was followed by the trepidation of mid-day. Were there really nine more planes still in the air? Were government buildings all across the country going to be next? Roads? Bridges? Will I be able to get home? Then the oppressive sadness set in. Friends of friends were missing (later confirmed killed). My kids were sent home from kindergarten; what would we tell them? How many thousands were dead? How many kids wouldn't be picked up from school?

But then, it was Tuesday night. Time to go to the club and play round two of the monthly tournament. Another Tuesday like hundreds before and since. The obvious gravity of our moods was different, but everything else was comfortably the same. We all waited for the pairings to come out, then we sat and played. Four hours of intense concentration. Four hours of thinking about something else. Four hours of weekly routine. This is why I play chess. Nearly fifty people gathered on the most horrific day I can remember and did something they love. They played a game. The best game there is.