Where were you....

Yes. I know what the date is.

How could anyone not know what the date is.

The sky is just as blue as it was that day.

There is a touch of crisp of the fall to come in the air, but it is still the kind of day that you could live with all year.

Yes I know what the date is.

And I know exactly where I was when it happened.

Growing up, I was always amused when the old folks around me would talk about knowing where they were when Pearl Harbor was attacked, or when Kennedy was shot. They would speak of the day with such deep feeling, that I would found it odd that they would be able to remember such minute details.

We mark time by memories of tragedy in our lives.

I remember where I was, the summer between second and third grade, I learned that my best friend Lisa and much of her family had been killed in an automobile accident on her way to the Jersey shore for a weeks vacation. I remember where I was when in fourth grade I learned my beloved grandfather had died. I remember every detail of coming home from school and seeing my great-grandfather's house burning to the ground.

But we do not only remember the details of the tragedy we face.

We remember the details of the joyous times that we celebrate.

I remember my first day of Kindergarten, heading off in that same great-grandfathers 1955 Green Chevy Pickup. I remember where I was when Bucky Dent hit that ball to the green monster. I remember the day I met my husband, and the day he asked me to marry him. I remember where I was when Bill Buckner let that ball go through his legs. I remember every detail of every day each of my children were born.


I remember where I was on September 11, 2001.

The date is only a date.

The reminders are with me every day.

And so are the memories.

So how do I plan to spend this day?

I plan to think again today, like I do every day, about those who were lost and those who were left behind. I plan to think about how our lives have been changed forever. I plan to think about how my children's lives have been changed in ways they will never understand, just by the things that to them are normal daily activities. I plan to call my friend Becky, who is starting out her newly single life, and who is worried about her little boy, celebrating his 20th birthday in Bagdhad.

And I plan to hold my children a little bit closer when they get home from school.