Security and risk managers always talk about plane crashes and the fear we should have about flying. Doing a little searching, I stumbled across a poem by Steve Wilson on The Catholic National Weekly that perhaps raises as many questions as it answers:

…trees. A handbag. Sunglasses.
A crystal vase. An Italian shoe beside

the road. The villagers remember
with calm faces. And of the days to follow,
that burgeoned winter-white, hesitant,
detached—what do they think?

They resign themselves like a scarf
to the will of the chill and ragged air.

5 a.m., outside Bucharest, Romania, 1995

Resign themselves to the will of the air? Touching imagery to mourn the tragic loss of life, but it hardly fits the definition of giant jets using forced air and thousands of gallons of fuel, as well as ultra-light carbon and aluminum construction, to fight the elements and boldly embrace science and challenge the laws of gravity.