Each 9-11, I go over in my mind what I was doing that Tuesday morning eight years ago.
My dad was taking me to the airport. I was headed back to Utah after a fun weekend home with the family. As we drove, and listened to the radio, we heard that one plane had crashed into the WTC. When the announcement came that a second plane had crashed into the WTC, my dad knew he was in for a long day.
My dad was on a USAR (Urban Search and Rescue) team. These men deploy within hours of a disaster of any kind, anywhere in the country, and assist in search and rescue.
My dad was deployed to NYC a couple weeks after the attacks. The stories he tells are filled with patriotism, love, comradery, hope, and unity. I will never forget his stories. If you ever have the opportunity to listen to the things he experienced while there, I highly recommend it. He gives a great fireside!
With permission from the FBI, my dad brought my brother and I back acutal pieces of the WTC.
As for my flight, it was obviously cancelled. Mymom, good friend, Debbie Nelson, and I spent Wednesday, 9-12, driving back to Utah.
May we never forget.