It's been eight years since we, as a nation, woke up to the horrors that came to be known by the moniker 9/11. A lot has happened since then. We've had one extremely heated political race from the presidential seat and elected the first African-American to hold that seat. We saw other disasters, of the natural variety, impact our nation with Hurricane Katrina and the floods in Iowa among others. We've seen an on going war and the fall and end of Saddam Hussein. Personally, I've experienced two moves, a marriage, my own brush with a life-threatening disease and watching my daughter endure a major surgery.
Still, that day, 9/11/01, stays pretty vividly imprinted in my mind. I was where I always am on Tuesday mornings, here at the Herald back in the dungeon where all the editorial people sit now. The decor was a bit different. We hadn't yet renovated the office or gotten our fancy office furniture. I was still using the old, old, old heavy metal desk that squeaked some when I opened doors. I was organizing my stories for the next day's deadlines when Julie Daly, who was doing our graphic design back then, came in and said a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I don't think I believed her at first, but then she came in a few minutes later to say another had hit the second tower and that she believed one had hit the Pentagon.
Not long after that, Jim Lincoln went home to bring a small television in, so we could watch the details. We weren't as plugged in with the Internet then as we are now. We all huddled around the television, watching for news on what was happening when we saw them go. I remember seeing the towers collapse fast, like someone was erasing them from the screen, and then all that was left was the clouds of debris and blue sky.
