In the days following the horror of September 11, those words aren't particularly remarkable. Except that I wrote that sentence the night before the World Trade Center attack, and I had almost decided not to tackle this subject. But then the passenger jets and explosions seared themselves into our national psyche, and I knew I'd have to finish this column.

I am not going to talk about the deep, frightful scars caused by last Tuesday's events. I'll leave that to commentators with a lot more skill than I have. What I want to talk about - and what I had planned to talk about when I wrote those words - is Asbury Park.

I've thought about the way that fear is used as a weapon in our city for a long time now, and I've seen how it continues to operate in ways both large and small.

I'm not referring primarily to physical fear, although that is a consideration for some of us. During the election campaign, I talked to elderly women who lock their windows year around against neighborhood drug dealers, and who expressed fear of even walking to church. And, as a councilwoman, I have reported suspected drug houses on behalf of people who were too intimidated to give their own names to the police.

But, despite our bad press days, physical fear is not an overriding reality for most of us who safely navigate our city streets each day, taking only the "sensible precautions" that any urban dweller would take.

No, what I've been thinking about is a different type of intimidation, one that robs our spirits rather than our possessions, and infects our lives and our community in a more insidious way. Let me give you just a few examples.

This summer, I met a woman who described in detail the blatant election fraud she witnessed in Asbury Park last year. She reported this fraud to the authorities, but was too afraid to testify. "I'm in my 70s, and I live alone," she said. "I can't take the chance."

More recently, several city merchants approached me about a breakdown in city services that cost them many thousands of dollars and endless frustration. When I asked them to document their experience in letters or public statements, they demurred. Why? As business people, they worried about angering city officials who might influence business permits and grant dollars. And, what if someone started a hate campaign against their business? "This is our livelihood," they told me. "We can't take the risk."

Needless to say, my first impulse was to assure them, "Don't worry! Asbury Park isn't like that -- we'll protect you!"

But could we? As much as I believe that Asbury Park is beginning a new day, no one can make that kind of decision for another human being when their safety or their livelihood may be on the line.

But I need to get back to September 10.

Because, on that evening -- ironically, just hours before the terrorists struck -- I received several calls from black community members. They told me that a few twisted individuals were telling city residents that the investors who bought our beachfront property plan to drive out Asbury Park's minority population in order to establish their own exclusive ethnic/religious community here.

The small group of people spreading these rumors -- including, I'm told, an individual who definitely does know better -- is also trying to inspire fear by telling residents that public housing will be completely eliminated in Asbury Park once redevelopment begins. In actuality, the major concern of city council members right now is that the Housing Authority appoint a capable and experienced director who can continue to improve public housing and resident quality-of-life through programs such as federal Hope VI revitalization grants.

The people inventing these lies may not have hijacked airplanes or millions of dollars at their command, but they are terrorists nonetheless, and their apparent goal -- to intimidate and divide us through fear, suspicion, and hate - is inarguably the same.

If September 11 taught us anything, it's that we can't let a handful of terrorists use words to defeat us, any more than the people of New York can let foreign terrorists use fear and destruction to defeat them.

There's no way to predict how last week's events will affect Asbury Park. Will private and government funds still be available for all the improvements we want to make, from the boardwalk to the West Side? What other changes are coming?

The world has gotten harder and less predictable, but that's all the more reason to stick together.

Two things we know: Some people will be frightened by the very concept of change, and we have to reach out and draw them in. Others will see change as a threat to their control, but we can't let them destroy our vision of a united community in Asbury Park.

Please light a candle for Asbury Park tonight. We are going to make it.