Nevin's Data "Points"

A quarter-century is a long time. Long enough for children born after Sept. 11, 2001, to have now finished college, entered the workforce and begun building lives and families of their own.    Long enough for the images that remain painfully vivid to some of us to have become history to millions of others. ad space But 25 years is not long enough to forget. Those of us who lived through that day still remember where we were when we heard — or, perhaps more accurately, when we finally understood. We remember the images, the uncertainty and the urgent need to hear the voices of those we loved. We remember a day on which thousands of people left home for an ordinary Tuesday and never returned. As it happened — and I have shared this story before — I was travelling from one coast to the other — heading to speak at a conference early on that bright Tuesday morning in 2001. In fact, I was in the middle of that cross-country flight, literally running from one terminal to another in D...

It’s hard for me to believe that next week we’ll mark the 22 nd anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.  Harder still to comprehend that there are individuals now in the workplace who weren’t even alive on that day, and others so young that they have no memory of it. Other significant dates on the calendar have names affixed to them, two decades later—and likely forever—this one remains simply “nine-eleven.”  While the events of that day remain seared in my memory, human beings are, for the most part it seems, wired to forget, to “move on,” from our worst memories. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, though this is one day I never will.    In fairness, that wasn’t a “normal” day for me. I was flying—cross-country—on an American Airlines flight to speak at a conference in California. I learned about the attacks while I was running from one terminal to another in Dallas, Texas. Oh, I had out of the corner of my eye wondered why everyone was gathered aroun...

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 cell phone 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. 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 in Dallas — there were no planes flying, no rental cars to be had — separated from home and family by hundreds of insurmountable miles for three interminably long days. As that week drew to a close, I finally was able to get a rental car and begin a long two-day journey home. While it was a long, lonely drive, it gave me a lot ...