When I become old and gray and look back upon my life, the dividing line will be––or so I thought before today––the fall of the Berlin Wall. My time on earth would be split between the mushroom cloud that hung over the Cold War period and the blue skies of freedom that shone ever afterward. That's what I thought. I dreamed that as an 80-year-old I could tell the boys and girls what air raid sirens and duck-and-cover drills in school were like, silly though they'd sound to the young inhabitants of the future's more enlightened age.

I knew by nine this morning that all that had changed, and today is the day that divides my life. Yesterday I thought my generation was wise and cynical. Today I realize how naive and carefree it's been for me and for my friends and family. Today is the day my generation lost more innocence through brutal acts of evil men than ever before. Not three assassinations in five years, nor Vietnam, Watergate, Iran-Contra, AIDS, nor Rwanda match today.

Today is different. Not because its loss of life was greater than in many of the events listed above––though it seems possible that as many American hearts stopped beating in two morning hours than died during some of this country's entire wars. Today is different because of what it presages. We are at war, and it feels like a war that could slide precipitously into a worldwide religious and nationalistic abyss.

A favorite history book of mine refers to the "War of 1914." That was the year the book was published, and the author could not know of the cascading set of events caused by the triggering of one mutual defense pact after another. Gavrilo Princip shot and killed an archduke and set World War I in motion, and I cannot help but wonder what comes after today.

I'm angry. But I'm also scared for what the sane people of the world will have to endure because of the events on my country's East Coast. Everything my anger demands––acts of vengeance and justice and righteousness I hope the democratic governments of the world will not fail to execute––will be gasoline on a global wildfire.

There is terrific gravity and weight all around us. But there is more. There is what our commitment to civilization demands. For those of us not caught in the terrible events in New York or Washington or Pennsylvania––and for those who were caught, but who will recover––life goes on. Not just vengeance and justice will follow today, but beauty and art and dreams and goals.

We shall again write about that on this site, and shall do so starting this week.

The world became much more grave and dangerous today, and I hope our readers will understand if we just could not write about athletic themes as if today's events never occurred. But the world is still a beautiful place, and I hope our readers will understand when we resume honoring that in these pages starting tomorrow.