This was a day of sad thoughts about death from the skies.
I thought back to THE September 11, how I had sat in the Visitors Center of Heifer Ranch in Arkansas with my fellow volunteers watching the dreadful events occur on the TV screen.
We watched in shocked silence.
At first there was only visual, no audio from the scene. Suddenly the audio was added.
Hearing the sirens and hearing people on the street screaming and sobbing--it transported me to the all-too-familiar sounds and scenes of terror strikes in Israel and especially Jerusalem, then in the throes of the second intifada.
I burst out crying and got up to leave, to go cry on my donkeys' necks, murmuring to no one in particular, "I'm so sorry, Americans, that it takes this for you to feel what Israel has felt so often."
Their . . . our, world would never be the same.
Last night was also the end of the world as they knew it for two families in Israel.
Major (reserves) Yuval Holtzman, 40, father of three, and Major (res.) Shai Danor, father of five, were piloting a helicopter when apparently its rotor flew off and the body of the Cobra crashed to the ground and burned.
All our Cobras were today grounded.
They are in use in the Israel Air Force since the 1970s and before that, the Americans used these same gunships in Vietnam. They are getting old.
Now for some nice words about helicopters. This is the new helipad nearing completion at Hadassah Hospital.
The wounded and injured will be taken on the elevator directly down to the Emergency Medicine Department.
That will be an improvement over this. Here two choppers are landing on the outside landing place.
From here the stretcher cases have to be transported across the street and through several buildings.
Our moshav is just on the next hill. My house is under the flight pattern to Hadassah.
I see the helping helicopters almost everyday and say a little prayer each time.
But today all Israel says a prayer for the pilots we lost last night who themselves became victims.