In my nightmares, terrorists fire a missile into an airplane. The airplane is carrying, in turn, Ted Kennedy, Barack Obama, John F. Kennedy, then two of the three at the same time. Everyone is crying at first in Blacksburg, but by the end of the day the tears are dry and they are back at work. This town is accustomed to such pain, and the Things That Must Be Done are far too "important" to put on hold. So instead of grieving, everyone drinks tea and then secretly switches to whiskey, all along pretending to accomplish this or that rather than admit something is horribly, awfully, tragically Wrong.
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