Like any historical moment, the events of 9/11 stay with us. We all remember where we were the moment we learned what was going on. This is not just for Americans, but for people who were in and around muslim populations that day. This is my recollection:
I had worked all night. I was in the closet, trying to find an item in the closet before bed. Good Morning America had broken into their taped morning show to report one tower was burning when the second plane hit. Minutes later, they went from their morning hosts to the regular news staff, who had either come in early, or just happened to be at work.
While I watched the events of that morning unfold, I called work. I was told we would be 12 on, 12 off for the forseeable future. It was the beginning of a month of insomnia for me. My post traumatic stress disorder had kicked in in a BIG way.
I was the choir chaplain of a large choir at the time. I knew my Wednesday night sermon had to be boffo stuff. I went digging and ended up putting together some Churchill material. We rehearsed patriotic music that night, with lumps in our throat. That Sunday, the church was more packed than it had ever been. The choir had to elbow it's way through the crowd to get into the sanctuary. Once through the sermon, we went into our music. We had been warned to be strong for the congregation, but I sang through tears. When we finished, I noticed women were heading for the exits, with tissues in hand.
The following Wednesday, with everyone still edgy, but a slow return to normalcy coming, I put together a sermon in which I drew upon comedic things that had happened post Pearl Harbor, drawing partially upon the movie 1941. Everyone needed a good laugh and it helped.


Wife and I had been watching the fire in the first tower on the morning news. Had been reported that an airplane had crashed into that tower. As a former pilot myself, I was watching intently because this was a pretty big fire for a Cessna 172 to cause. I suspected that it was probably a business-size plane. As I'm staring at the TV, the second jet flew into the picture from the left, and and the resulting debris and smoke came out the other side of the second tower.
Instantaneously, I chilled as I realized that this probably wasn't accidental. I called to my wife to come watch this.
I grabbed some coffee and drove over to one of my company's nearby construction sites. On the way, I heard on the radio where all planes were being ordered to land. When I got to the site, I looked out to the south and saw a huge "U" shaped contrail in the sky from a jet turning around to descend to the nearest airport. I took a picture of it with my film camera, and still have that picture on the wall in my office.
My wife and I had visited NYC over Thanksgiving, 2000, and we had gone to the observation deck of the WTC while we were there. As a result, we had a better understanding of the enormity of the destruction there.
The casualties of that day include the feeling of safety and invincibility that we Americans had developed over the preceding 40 years. We will likely be looking over our shoulder for a long time to come.