On that morning, from my apartment on Duane Street that looked right out right at the Twin Towers, my wife called me at my midtown office to tell me that one of the towers was burning. The news had not yet hit the local Fox news channel yet, so the trading floor TVs were all tuned to CNBC as usual, and I was just asking those near me what they might have heard about it.
While we were on the phone, she saw the plane hit the other tower, and from seven blocks away, she felt our building shake. And so began the most surreal day of our lives.
It doesn't seem like five years have passed, but a lot has happened in that time. So we have moved on, and moved forward. Just as I am grateful for those who established and defended the freedom that my family enjoys today, I am grateful for the work done by so many to heal my city, and to thwart planned attacks around the world since then.
I knew some of the people who perished at Ground Zero, and others who almost were caught in the towers, but were running late for some personal reason. My wife and oldest daughter were affected, too, for the rest of our earthly lives--but not in the most profound and tragic of ways. And because I have had a few more days on this earth, I take the opportunity to say: God bless you, the reader of this humble blog, and the advocates of Freedom everywhere.
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