It is difficult - this tenth anniversary of the tragic murder of innocent Americans and other nationalities that were either in the Pentagon, in the Trade Center or on one of the planes used as weapons. Everyone remembers where they were, when it seemed like just one horrific thing after another kept happening, and it's doubtful those memories will ever fade.
I was immediately very busy. My chancellor wanted an event for the next day to honor the victims and responders, and to mourn those we had lost at our university. It was my first real event in a job I had been on less than two weeks. Hell of an initiation, but it kept my mind off things going on in the world. We had deliveries of tables, chairs, podiums, speakers to engage, oh, and a capital campaign gala to cancel. It sounds superficial and it was, but it helped to be busy.
I don't think I really had a good idea of how much of an impact this had on me until late in the night. The Boy and I had gone to a restaurant that we were already quite the frequent customers because I knew there were no TVs in the restaurant. Later, I noticed how quite it all seemed. No flights over head, few cars. It was eerie. It was a very sad time. And it made me very very angry. Ten years doesn't make it any less sad, but hopefully, we, as a people and as a country, have learned something about ourselves and what we hold dear.