Rhoades Less Traveled:

I knew something was up when I saw boys on street corners, papers in hands, yelling “Extra! Extra!”

So I bought a newspaper and there it was, stark and shocking: a full-page photo of the Twin Towers in full flames.

It took me a while to get my mind around the fact that we’d been attacked in the cruelest way imaginable. People talk about stages of grief. You know them well: denial, anger, acceptance, etc. Well, I felt all of those — at the same time — except acceptance.

And eight years later, I still haven’t reached that stage.

It ticks me off that Osama bin Laden is, apparently, still out there, moving along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. I want him aced, to say the least, or at least beat up, cuffed and taken to the hoosegow to await a slam-dunk trial. It seems to me that we took our eyes off him when we went to Iraq, and I think President Obama’s redeployment of 20,000 or so troops to Afghanistan is a promising move, though some say that country, and conflict, will become his Vietnam.

It was eight years ago today that I bought that paper, the only “Extra” I’ve ever bought, let alone seen.

And do you know what hit me the hardest? The pictures of innocent civilians jumping hundreds of feet from burning, smoking buildings to their deaths. I still think about them. Did they make a practical decision to die instantly rather than slowly burn and choke on smoke? Or was there a place — deep down inside of them — that realized they would surely die if they stayed in the building and hoped against all odds that they might survive a fall? Many of them held out their arms, like wings. Is that an automatic response, or does it have some meaning? It reminded me of Christ on the cross, and I wondered if that was their way of surrendering to God.

Today marks eight years since that terrible day.

What are we supposed to do?

I don’t have a clue, but Sept. 11, 2001, will be heavy on my mind. I’ll be hoping for the capture of bin Laden and picturing those souls — leaping from tall buildings after making a decision that no human being should have to make — dropping to the ground.

I’ll remember the black smoke pluming above the towers and billowing through the city streets that were filled with desperate escapees.

I’ll remember those who didn’t make it out of the buildings, and the firefighters and police — heroes by any standard — who bulled their way through hell to save them — sometimes dying, sometimes making a save.

I’ll remember the silence in the office place, and at home, because what was there to say? The images told the story.

And, an agnostic, I’ll hit my knees and pray, hoping some good, greater force is listening.

Editor BRADY RHOADES may be reached at (714) 966-4607 or at brady.rhoades@latimes.com.