This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Exactly 15 years ago, a column I wrote about the dangers of allowing crazy people to fly airplanes ran in this newspaper. You can read it here: bit.ly/Kirby9-11.

The column was intended to be humorous. It ended up being anything but. At the same time people were reading about my antics of flying a plane for the first time, other people were leaping to their deaths from the Twin Towers.

I console myself today with the thought that if America's intelligence agencies didn't see a terrorist attack coming, there was no reason to expect that a professional moron would have.

Despite the horrible timing of the two events, I recall receiving only one email about it. I logged onto my computer while the towers were still burning. A lone reader had dryly commented, "Bet you're wishing that you chose a different subject to write about today."

Perhaps other readers were too stunned to bother commenting on the colossal irony. I admit to being surprised by the lack of outrage over the poor timing.

The surprise didn't last long. Two days after 9/11, I wrote another column. It was about being a new grandfather. My first grandchild was born 30 days before the towers fell, and I was grateful for her being so far removed from the terror.

As America geared up the military response to the terror attack, I wondered about the fates of new grandfathers and grandchildren on the other side of the world. There were innocents there as well.

There were probably men like me holding their granddaughters and marveling at the exquisite beauty of life, completely unaware that they were only days away from being turned into cat food as collateral damage in the war on terror.

I ended the column with, "I hope we're careful. Somewhere in Afghanistan or Iraq, there are other new grandfathers. Just like me, all they want is for the world to make sense for their innocents.

The outrage I missed when trying to be funny at the wrong time came when I tried being reasonable at the right time. Readers were all over me then. Something had to be done, no matter the cost.

"The only thing these [expletive deleted] understand is power. Kick the [deleted] out of them enough and they won't have the nerve to try something like that again."

"These terrorists will not stop until they realize the consequence of suicide attacks is the death of their mothers and children. They are clearly willing to die for their cause. Are they willing to let their loved ones die for the cause? Sometimes one must act like a barbarian to stop barbarians."

"…where we know there is guilt, even mingled among the innocent, we should unleash the fires of hell."

"Kill 'em all and let God sort them out."

And it's just that easy to allow a monstrous act to turn us into monsters ourselves. It's a slippery slope, as they say, especially for those who insist on constantly applying the grease of racism, xenophobia and rage.

Fifteen years out from 9/11, my granddaughter is going to high school and getting her learner's permit. I still worry about her and whether the world will make sense as she grows up.

And I still wonder about the grandchildren of men and women on the other side of the world who, despite our differences, I've been commanded to regard as my brothers and sisters.

Maybe if I keep trying to do that, it'll make a difference — even if it's only to my grandchildren.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.