I remember where I was 11 years ago. In fact, probably every American over the age of 10 at the time remembers.
Since I was young I've had the quirky, macabre fear that I would someday witness a plane crash. Perhaps this was because I have lived in the path of a major metropolitan airport all my life. Sometimes I hear those planes make noises that seem a little too loud and a little too strange. I rush to the window to make sure the 400-ton piece of flying metal is still aloft, praying it is not my worst fear being realized. Of course it isn't.
Although we have a melting pot of backgrounds that shape who we are, today is a day we become united in our thoughts. Not to remember the macabre, but to remember the heroics and bravery of men and women who were thrown into a situation never seen before in our history. I am soooo proud to be an American.