The title of this New York Times article, “‘It’s Not Even Six Degrees of Seperation. It’s One.’,” is something I’ve both been hearing from and repeating to friends and family since the crash of Flight 3407. I already know of three connections to the victims, not to mention many more connections to the Clarence neighborhood affected by the crash site. I’m sure when the entire manifest is released there will be more.
I talked about the crash all day yesterday with my mom and then later with some friends over drinks. It’s amazing how much more this kind of thing shakes you when it happens close by, and that’s really how I feel: shaken.
The idea of flying anywhere right now is absolutely terrifying. I was imagining that safe, relieved feeling I usually get when the plane I’m on begins its descent. The flight crew calls out to one another, “Prepare for landing,” and I always think, “Ok, we’ve made it.” I think that relief is going to be permanently altered by this crash just as the noise of a plane flying above me on Friday made me pause as I unlocked the door to my house, breath held, waiting for it to pass.
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