This was a difficult and strange day to be in New York City. The weather was just like it was five years ago: bright, sunny, slightly crisp, and utterly beautiful.
My then-wife and I moved from New York City to California some five months before the attacks of 2001. I had been back in New York on business the day before and had, in fact, been in the Towers that Monday. Aimee walked her dog between the towers every morning between 8:30 and 8:50. But for the luck of the draw, one or both of us would have perished.
On that morning, we frantically tried to contact friends and family, and over the next two days we realized just how many friends and family we had lost. After a day, with nobody knowing when the planes would fly, we decided to drive back home.
Too much has been written about the profound effect of 9/11 on our generation for me to attempt to equal their eloquence. Suffice it to say that my life will never be the same, and I consider myself lucky that I have a life which I can say has changed. Our dear friends were not so lucky.