By Nan Peacocke

Pictures taken on my 1994 trip to New York include the skyline from the harbor as our cruise ship was docking. The most prominent point of that photo is the recently destroyed twin peaks of the World Trade Center.

My one and only trip inside those towers was about 1988. I was there with four other people from my bridge club. We had planned a few days in New York City to see the two big Broadway plays and to "do the city." We saw "Phantom of the Opera" and "Les Miserable." We visited 21, Sardi's and the restaurant at the top of the Trade Center.

There is much about that trip that is memorable but the Trade Center is particularly dear to me now - if for no other reason than it no longer exists. I remember vividly the huge utilitarian structures, mostly enormous pipes, at the base as you came through the subway approach. The total lack of landscape or other ornamentation gave it a concrete bareness that could be described as future shock. The cold winter weather funneled an icy wind along the deserted sidewalks that added frigidity both to its appearance and our adventure.

I remember little of the elevator ride to the top, which isn't surprising since I don't like elevator rides in skyscrapers. Repression can be a convenient thing. I do remember stepping off the elevator into a rather nonchalant yet intimate anteroom of the restaurant. I've been in many equally elegant restaurants and several that were more elegant. When we took our seats at the window side table though, I had never seen a comparable view.

It too seemed futuristic but more like glancing from the Command Bridge of some stationary space vehicle at the sight of a strange galaxy. There were twinkling lights of the city everywhere and as far as the eye could see beneath stars spread across the velvet blackness of a night sky. At first gaze the full moon and stars overhead and the lights below in the city were indistinguishable from each other. Only after the few moments did I begin to separate the pattern of the city street and bridge lights below. From that height, even those patterns were more like spider webs glistening with magical dew made of gold dust.

We were only in that spot briefly - which I've always resented. We moved because one of our group had a health problem that dictated a diet incompatible with the menu in that section of the restaurant. Having to move away from that sight was a big disappointment to me - even more so now that the opportunity to revisit the place is gone forever.

The base of that building may have been hideous but it wasn't anything the Savannah Park and Tree people couldn't have mended. Besides, it was America and America's. But more importantly, it contained humans, mostly Americans but other nationalities as well. And those jetliners they converted to missiles contained humans as well: again mostly Americans, some old, some infants and children, women, and an assortment. That is what America is and has always been. That is what our enemy has chosen to attack.

God has already blessed America abundantly. Now may he again guide us through this night with a light from above as we take on not only our enemies but also the enemies of civilization. And when we defeat them, I hope to live long enough to return to The Windows of the World restaurant and enjoy an entire meal uninterrupted with that incomparable view.

Nan Peacocke is a freelance writer who lives in Savannah.