That day, twenty five years ago, the America I grew up in changed forever.

It was September 11, I'll never forget it. I turned on the TV that morning before work to catch some news, CNN I think, the first tower was on fire, smoke billowing against the background. The announcer said a plane had hit it. I was wondering about the poor people that were in the building, especially the ones above the fire. I watched longer than I should and I needed to go to work. I reached to shut off the TV and then the second plane hit the second tower. I pulled my hand from the knob. I knew immediately that this wasn't coincidence, and I also knew, almost immediately, that it was a terrorist event. I stayed home from work, and like many across the country that fateful day, I was glued to the TV.

I was as cynical then, as I am now. I knew something was off from the beginning. The 60s had taught me a deeply ingrained distrust of the government, and even though I had no idea what really was going on, the surreal event I was witnessing sent my mind reeling into a cloud of doubt, and fear. Are we under attack? Was this a coup?

Then the towers fell, straight down, into their own footsteps.

The billowing smoke, moving in waves of heat and gas, black yellow and red, formed ominous and subliminal demonic effigies.

Live feeds of people running for their lives from falling debris. An all consuming cloud of smoke absorbing victims like a toxic desert sandstorm.

Tales of horror. Tales of heroism. Body counts. Eye witness accounts.

Endless reporters, endless talking heads, endless questions, endless theories.

Endless days and nights of news coverage. The same scenes over and over.

Endless trauma, both personal and societal.

All are images burned into the watchers psyche, forever it seems.

As the world stood still that day.

But that was only the start.

Then came the Patriot Act.

War on the mind.

Geopolitical war.

And a broken nation, lead by the specter of fear.

Twenty five years later, and with twenty five years of retrospection at my back, I believe there are dots that connect 9/11/2001 to other events in modern history.

In my estimation, the roots of this day go back some seventy nine years prior, shortly after World War Two. Dallas in November 1963, the conflict in Vietnam, and the covid pandemic also act as milestones in this timeline. Assuredly, there were many major and minor events interposed among these milestones, that all together form a linear procession that leads us to the precarious position we find ourselves in at this particular point in human history.

What are some of the common denominators?

• Endless trauma.
• Psychological scarring.
• Behavior modification.
• Societal conditioning.
• Indoctrination.

Are the dots I'm connecting coincidental or predetermined? You be the judge. The manipulation is obvious to me.

A reflective look over our shoulders reminds us that the past preludes the future. As today, we wait, for whatever fate blows our way and the next consequential dot falls in line.