Some days define a generation. Anyone who was alive and above the age of 10 or so can instantly recall where they were.
It’s a safe bet that if you’re reading this, you know exactly where you were when you heard the news 11 years ago this morning.
I was in a courtroom, covering a routine hearing for the local newspaper. A court employee came in and whispered to me that something big was going on.
My phone was turned off for the hearing. When I turned it on, I found a series of messages, each increasingly more urgent to call the office.
When I got back to the newsroom and saw the video replays, I had no words. There were none to convey the horror and shock.
You know the rest. You were there.
A lot has happened in the intervening 11 years, but I’ll never forget the feeling of staring at a TV screen feeling helpless and furious and heartbroken.
Life has moved on, as it must. But we must never forget those who died in the attacks, whether in the World Trade Center, the Pentagon or the planes. Let us honor their memories by celebrating their lives, and by keeping those memories alive.