We All Remember Where We Were

I think we all (well, if you’re about 25 or older) remember where we were when the planes hit the two towers. When you found out that tragedy had struck, while you watched the news and waited for calls from friends and family to let you know they were okay.

I was a sophomore in high school, and I just happened to pop into the school store (a senior lounge type place) where every single person in the room was standing, staring open-mouthed at the tv. The bustle of the hallway hadn’t slowed down; it was mid-morning so few people had a tv on in their classrooms. But word spread quickly. I went to a school with boarding students, and several were from NYC. We all waited on pins and needles to hear from their families. People went or didn’t go to their classes, called parents, and generally cried and shook and prayed. It was so uncertain why or how or what was next.

So today, on the thirteenth anniversary of the event, and in light of my visit to the site in July, I want to say that I appreciate every single human who was there, who helped, who died, who fled, who lived, who lost a loved one, and who made the ultimate sacrifice for the strangers they saved. I am thankful now for each police officer, fire fighter, member of the military, and any other man or woman who helps protect me and my family. Thank you. You are why America is still awesome.

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