Early in the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, Barbara Olson, a Washington-based author and pundit, sweetly gave her husband, Ted, a kiss goodbye. She was 45 years old, a well-known media personality and critic of the Clintons. She was a happy person who knew how to laugh with folks on the other side of the aisle. In fact, that was why she was giving Ted a kiss goodbye that morning. She was scheduled to appear on comedian Bill Maher’s HBO show, “Politically Incorrect.” Barbara, a conservative, and Maher, a liberal, could joke together.

It was Ted’s birthday. Barbara actually had been scheduled to fly to Los Angeles from Dulles airport in northern Virginia the previous day. But loving as Barbara was, she changed her flight, rescheduling for the morning of Sept. 11 so she could wake her husband with a surprise birthday kiss. Ted smiled appreciatively, reciprocated and bid her farewell.

Shortly thereafter, Barbara boarded American Airlines Flight 77. The plane took off at 8:20 a.m. and reached an altitude of 35,000 feet. It cruised through West Virginia before doing a U-turn at the bottom of Ohio. It had been hijacked.

The hijackers managed to seize the cockpit with mere box cutters. The passengers were pushed toward the back of the plane, assured that no one would be harmed if they cooperated. This tactic must have convinced them that they were hostages to be ransomed. But Barbara thought otherwise once she reached Ted by cellphone at 9:16 a.m.

Ted was a high-level Washington attorney — no less than solicitor general in the Bush administration. After talking to Barbara, he hung up and immediately telephoned contacts at the Department of Justice. Barbara called again five minutes later. Ted learned that the plane was heading back northeast. He then informed Barbara of what had just happened at the World Trade Center. She went silent, stunned. Their conversation cut off at 9:26 a.m.

Eleven minutes later, at 9:37 a.m., the Boeing 757 with 64 passengers dusted Arlington National Cemetery before crashing into the Pentagon at 530 mph. No one survived.

I drove past that section of the Pentagon last weekend. I tried to picture what that horror looked like. Witnesses said the plane was moving so fast that it looked like a white blur that morphed into a giant fireball upon impact.

There were many tragic stories of lives brutally cut short that day, including those of three Washington, D.C., elementary school kids who had won a National Geographic Society competition that was taking them on an exciting trip to the Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara.

The loss of Barbara Olson was especially traumatic to two good friends of mine, R. Emmett Tyrrell Jr., founder of The American Spectator, and his wife Jeanne Hauch. They had met through Barbara, who thought they would make a nice couple. They sure did, and Barbara became their bridesmaid and Ted their best man.

Readers might wonder why I’m sharing this tragic story now, over two decades later. I’m sharing it because Ted Olson died last week at age 84. The death of Barbara left a hole in his heart that never healed.

Ted’s passing saddened his friends, but I personally can’t help but feel happy for him. The man is at long last reunited with that sweet girl who stayed to wish him a happy birthday that tragic morning. Reunited, surely, with a kiss.

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