9-11 - a personal account.
I had slept late that morning—late for me, anyway. I’d been up much of the night before, as I often was, monitoring the airwaves. There was a small television on the nightstand beside my bed. I stretched, reached over and turned it on, still trying to clear the cobwebs from my brain. The news was already on. At first I wasn’t really paying attention, but gradually I became aware they were talking about a small plane hitting one of the World Trade Center towers. I glanced over at the screen. One of the towers was burning, a huge black wound cut into the side of the building. I remember thinking, That’s a pretty big hole for a small plane. Then, as I watched, the second airplane slammed into the other tower. In that instant, I knew. This wasn’t an accident. This was terrorism. Almost immediately, my phone rang. I picked it up. The voice on the other end belonged to someone I never expected to hear from that morning—my friend "Mark." There was no small talk. He only said, “Turn...
