This is a sad day for humanity. Eighteen years ago today, two thousand, nine hundred, and seventy seven people were killed, and not just Americans. Some of the people were tourists, just exploring the city, innocent bystanders.
In just a few hours, a normal day turned to a living hell. The first tower of the world trade center was hit, and the news stopped reporting on a hurricane to explain, to the best of their ability, what everybody thought was an accident, until the second tower was hit. I forget the exact order things happened in, whether the Pentagon was hit or the towers fell first, but I know this: The second tower fell first, and was followed closely by the first.
I wasn't born yet that day, but I know plenty of people who were. Not a single one of them has forgotten where they were, what they were doing, who they were talking to, or how they felt, on September Eleventh, 2001.
American flags should be half-mast today, but I can't say that they are. I can't say that I knew any one of the 2,977 people who were killed, but I can say this: My heart bleeds for those who did know someone, who had even acquainted with someone who was killed.
I've had the honor of meeting one of the rescue workers from Ground Zero, and I've been to the memorial museum. Looking at it, you would never guess what happened, but it is not an event to be taken lightly. Never forget!
