I think everyone remembers where they were eleven years ago when they heard the tragic news of 9-11. I'll never forget the day. It was a clear blue happy Tuesday, just like today (minus the lovebug guts on the windshield). I went to work smiling. I listened to John Boy and Billy on the radio and laughed at their silliness. When I reached the I-165 connector, John Boy and Billy said that a twin-engine plane had hit one of the twin towers in New York City. I just figured that a small plane had accidentally flown into the tower. Within minutes of arriving at work, I learned that it was actually a passenger plane and that another one had hit the other tower. I fought hard to grasp how or why. We all tried to process the tragedies of that day. Some of my co-workers were frozen with fear and simply wanted to go home. I pressed through the day and when I finally arrived home that evening and saw the horrors on the news, I wept for the utter senseless loss of life. I also tried to explain the tragedy to our 11-year-old son. What a terrible terrible day.