Never will we forget...

I've spent all day today reading Twitter and Facebook, seeing everyone remember, and also never forget, the events of September 11, 2001. Being able to have access to celebrities and influentials on Twitter has provided a new light on those who we often forget are human. Being able to see that Bill Simmons (my favorite sports writer) had the same emotions on the days following 9/11 and used the same outlets to help ease his pain is very comforting. Being able to share with him, and hundreds of thousands of others, videos of David Letterman's and Jon Stewart's opening monologues from their first shows back helps ease the pain that still lingers eight years later.

Being able to interact with friends and see their memories, 140 characters at a time, is also great. Seeing the pride that still builds in those from New York and the love that still lingers from those who have visited is amazing. Being able to ask one another where they were on that day, what they remember, and what they'll never forget is something we might not have been able to do just a handful of years ago.

As a child, and still to this day, I can hear my Dad telling us about when he first found out that JFK had been killed. One of his classmates had left school during lunch to buy thread for a sewing class and found out. I've heard that story at least fifty times in the course of my life. It used to drive me crazy because it seemed like he told the same people the same story over and over.

I realized today that it doesn't drive me crazy anymore. I'm sure I'll tell my children every year on September 11 where I was, what I was wearing, what my thoughts were, and what I did the rest of the day. I think I wrote about it several years ago in my former blog on MySpace, but I haven't shared in a few years. Here is my story...

I was a freshman in college in 2001. The 11th of September fell on a Tuesday, so I had World History at 9:30am and Psychology at 2:00pm. These were two classes I almost never skipped, so sleeping through my alarm until 9:25 was odd for me. I woke up angry at myself since I slept too late to get ready and make it to class, but also ready to enjoy my free time for the next four and one half hours. I put on my middle school Peer Modeling Team (Every 8th grade guy wants a shirt that says PMT in huge letters across the back) and black basketball shorts, brushed my teeth, and went downstairs.

I turned on the television and tuned into ESPN for what I thought would be my first daily dose of Sportscenter. The scene I immediately saw was the New York harbor with a huge smoke trail rising from the buildings. The breaking news headline read something about two planes crashing into the tower. Moments later, the first tower collapsed. I didn't stop watching TV until I went to class at 2:00.

Class only lasted a few minutes, I don't know why I even went, and I drove to my grandma's house since my aunt was in town. We continued to watch the news reports with new video surfacing as the day progressed. We still didn't know what had happened yet, so we discussed what the possible scenario might be. From that point on, my memory is fuzzy.

My first memory of beginning to feel better about the situation at hand is watching the St. Louis Cardinals game on baseball's first day back after the 11th. Jack Buck read a poem which he had written and then, crippled from a stroke, with tears in his eyes, he muttered the words, "Should we be here? Yes." I can still hear him say those words to this day. They will forever comfort me.

Slowly, but surely, our country began to heal. Our television shows returned, our sports teams returned to action, and our lives became normal again. I wish there wasn't a day each year where we were reminded of those who lose their lives so innocently, but I'm so grateful there is a day for us to always remember them, as well. It doesn't seem like eight years ago to me, mostly because life flies by quicker than we realize, but also because that day alone seemingly last eight years.

Always we remember,
B