When I was very young, I can remember hearing adults say, “I remember exactly where I was when I heard JFK was shot” and seeing the emotion on their faces at that memory. At the time, I didn’t understand that emotion. In my young mind, I couldn’t comprehend how something that happened in a history book could be so personal.

As I got older, I came to understand why it affected people the way it did. It wasn’t about their personal connection to JFK. It was about how a single heinous act could affect an entire nation. I get it now.

I remember exactly where I was when the first plane flew into the North tower. I was sitting at my desk at work, listening Stan Piatt and Jim Midock on WNIR.  I don’t remember what they were talking about, I was half listening at that point as it was payroll week and I was focused on my work.  But, I distinctly remember the interruption to the conversation that was happening.  Stan Piatt said, “Oh my God, folks, we’ve just been told a plane flew into the North Tower of The World Trade Center.” I remember I stopped working and gave my full attention to the radio. For the next several minutes, they thought it was an aviation accident. It soon became clear that it was intentional and our entire office building ended up crowding into our cafeteria to watch on the tiny television in there as it all started to unfold. We stood in there watching together as the second tower was hit.

At the time, my sister, Amy, worked in a government building in Cleveland. I remember selfishly thinking, “I want Amy to leave work.” I was in complete terror that all major cities were going to be hit and I wanted Amy safe in my little town of Ravenna. I called her at work and, while neither of us left work early, she did agree to come and stay with me that night.

As I sit here today, fourteen years later, oddly enough, living in Washington, DC, far, far from my safe little town of Ravenna, I remember where I felt safest that day. My sister and I headed to my grandma’s to watch the news with Grandma and my Uncle David. My Uncle David is only three years older than me but, even as a kid, he always seemed like a grown up to me. I guess because he’s my uncle. And, while he isn’t the most conventional uncle, he has always been a good one. He has always taken care of me. He knows how to make me laugh when I need to and he knows how to give advice without feeling like he’s trying to tell me what to do. He is also the ultimate smart ass, always making sarcastic remarks and trying to be the funny guy. But that day, he was in awe of what was happening and more respectful than I have ever seen him. And, as always, he made me feel safe.

While today is a day to remember those that lost their lives in that terrible act, I think it should also be time to appreciate the people in our lives that we love. September 11, 2001 is a devastating day in our history as a nation, but, I will always remember being with my Grandma, my sister, Amy, and my Uncle David. I remember the hugs he kept giving me when I started to get emotional. I will always remember how scared I was but how safe my Uncle David made me feel.  I think I need to call him and tell him that.