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11 September 2006


Five years ago, I could not find an emotion other than rage. It built up steadily throughout the day and on into the night, and I assumed everyone else felt exactly the same. Perhaps I was naïve, but certainly millions of people shared that single emotion with me, at least for one day.

The following morning, driving into work at about 7:15, I turned at an intersection about a mile from my office in Raleigh. The streets were mostly still empty, which was not unusual, though perhaps they were a little emptier than normal. On the corner, as I turned left, I spotted a makeshift American flag display. The flag was attached to a little hand-painted sign that read “God Bless America”. It looked like something children might have concocted at the last minute for a 4th of July parade. But I got the feeling an adult made it and put it out sometime in the dark of night, just trying to get something out there to show support and help with morale when it was most needed.

For about five minutes, after I passed that display, I sat in my car and wept like a baby.

My son was 13 days old on 9/11/01. This evening he had questions, and we tried to explain, in the most cautious (but truest) way we could, what all this was about.

Also tonight, watching the retrospectives, I got emotional – for the first time in a couple of years on this anniversary, actually. Everything from that day, and that week, really came back to me for a while. I wish there had never been reason for such feelings, but thank God I can still find them.

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