The airwaves are awash with remembrance this week. We watch, we cry, we pay homage - both to the dead and to the survivors.
Ten years past that sky-blue day, we reflect on what changes have been wrought in the American psyche - and how time has perhaps altered that perception.
For the families and friends of the nearly 3,000 who died on Sept. 11, 2001 - in an airplane, in an office, or perhaps rushing up a stairwell as a first responder - there is no need of an official anniversary, a moment of silence, a wreath laid, in order to remember.
It is with them always.
The same holds true for the families and friends of the more than 50,000 dead and wounded so far in the two wars that followed.
A full decade past 9/11, the families of thousands of troops still serving in Iraq and Afghanistan keep quiet watch, mindful of the latest carnage playing out on CNN, hoping for the next call home, dreading the knock at the door.
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For them, 9/11, and its aftermath, are also a constant presence.
For the rest of us, not so much. Oh, sure, we dutifully slip off our shoes at the airport, pack our shampoo in 3-ounce containers, submit to the indignities of the body scan.
But if you asked the average American what keeps him awake at 3 in the morning, it's not whether a terrorist will be on his next flight to Buffalo. It's whether he can keep his job, put food on the table, pay the mortgage.
The century was new when 9/11 happened, a calamity few predicted would be overtaken by other events any time soon. We buried our dead, drank watery lemonade at the stands that sprang up raising money for one patriotic cause or another, knitted socks for the troops.
Americans had grown closer, we were told. We were all in this together.
And then came Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005 - and the seeming abandonment of the entire city of New Orleans. Suddenly, the government wasn't doing quite the heck of a job we'd supposed.
That same year, the housing boom that had seen annual price increases in the double digits began to lose steam. Financial gurus began to warn of something called a bubble.
Americans who'd been told to go out and spend post-9/11 had done just that, often on homes they couldn't afford - homes whose mortgages were subsequently sliced and diced beyond recognition.
By early 2008, nightly news anchors were spouting words like "credit default swaps" and "hedge funds." Anxious Americans lined up outside banks to yank out their savings. Esteemed financial institutions went belly up. General Motors declared bankruptcy. Layoffs numbered in the tens of thousands.
Government bailouts and spending programs followed. Some of it worked, some didn't. Anger and frustration led to the rise of the tea party, which led to more division and gridlock in Congress.
Two years ago we were told the recession - the worst to hit since the Great Depression - was over. Now, we're not so sure.
Ten years ago today, we told our children to be not afraid. That America was strong and would recover, as would we. Ten years later, many of us are more fearful than we ever were on Sept. 11, 2001. But it has precious little to do with what happened on that sky-blue day.
Today, we put aside our fears to honor those who died on 9/11 and who continue to serve on the battlefield.
But we do so with the unblinking knowledge that the threat to America's well-being doesn't always come from beyond its borders.
And that, perhaps, is the most unsettling change of all.
