(Let's) Never Forget
Early on a bright Tuesday morning in 2001, I was in the middle of a cross-country flight, literally running from one terminal to another in Dallas, when my cellphone rang. It was my wife. I had been on an American Airlines flight heading for L.A., after all—and at that time, not much else was known about the first plane that struck the World Trade Center on Sept. 11. I thought she had to be misunderstanding what she had seen on TV. Would that she had… That day, when family and friends were so dear and precious to us all, I spent in a hotel room in Dallas. It was perhaps the longest day—and loneliest night—of my life. In fact, I was to spend the next several days at that Dallas hotel. There were no planes flying, no rental cars to be had—and so I was stranded—separated from home and family by hundreds of insurmountable miles for three interminably long days. As that week drew to a close, I was finally able to get a rental car and begin a long two-day journey home. While