Growing up, I had always heard people around me say "Where were you when it happened?"  The it was a variety of different events.  It was usually referring to when JFK was shot or another significant event in our history.  It seemed that each generation had it's own events that brought on this question.  I always thought those conversations were weird.  Why couldn't people just move on?  Why did they feel the need to dwell on that stuff?  What I hadn't realized is how fortunate I was.  My generation was lucky, we didn't really have any events that were so significant that we could never forget. 

Here it is, Sept 11, 2007.  And I can't help myself from asking that very question.  Ever since September 11, 2001, I understand why people ask that question.  It's not just that we can't forget, it is that we don't want to forget.  We shouldn't forget. 

I'm typically not the kind of person that remembers all kinds of details about days in my life.  But 9/11 is completely clear in my head.  I remember waking up in North Carolina, I was there for a lengthy consulting assignment.  I had been having some remote connection problems with my laptop.  I needed to call the desktop support team after 9am and I needed to do it from my apartment so I could test the system.  If it were not for that situation, I would have been at work before it happened.  I had the TV on, I was watching Good Morning America.  After some typical morning stories, Charlie Gibson announced that they were going to a live shot of lower Manhattan, where a plane had hit one of the towers.  Of course, all of the information that Gibson gave out at this point was hearsay.  Maybe it was a commuter plane?  Maybe it was a suicide?  I remember watching that live shot when the second plane hit.  My jaw dropped.  Everything was obvious at that point, this was not an accident.  The newscasters were in just as much shock as I was, just as I'm sure everyone else was that was tuned in.  I immediately called my friend Steve.  He lived in Battery Park City.  Not only was his apartment a few short blocks from what we now call "ground zero" but I knew he took the subway from the World Trade Center each morning.  Luckily, he was already in his office up town and his wife was fine too. I watched the coverage for a while and of course, I saw the towers go down.  There was also the news of flight 93 and the Pentagon as well. The whole situation was surreal.  I was very sad.  I was very confused.  I called my friend/coworker Chris.  He was in the apartment downstairs and I knew he typically went to work late.  He came up for a while and we watched the coverage together.  Eventually I went to work for a few hours, just for a change of scenery.  I couldn't watch the coverage any more.   Everyone was talking about it of course.  So many people were worried for someone they knew who lived or worked in lower Manhattan or the other affected areas.  Having recently lived in Hoboken, NJ (right across the river from Lower Manhattan) I served as source of information for many people in the office who had never visited the area.  My sad mood lasted for a long time, just as it did for many people.  Days later, Chris and I had to drive home to the Philly area because the airports were still closed.  My friend Steve's apartment was a wreck.  His windows had all blown in.  The building had a lot of damage.  He never lived there again.  And of course, many people died or were badly hurt (none that I knew personally).

I'm not sure what is harder to comprehend, each obviously for a different reason - The will of man to execute such a plot against his fellow man,  the loss of life on that day, or the bravery of men and women who risked their own lives to help others?  Tragic events like 9/11 continue to prove the complexity and sadness of life.

With a child of my own on the way now, I really hope future generations never understand why we ask the question "Where were you when it happened?"  They should be so lucky.