It was a Tuesday.  I was driving to Weldon Thornton's house to mow his yard.  I had NPR on just as it was switching to a BBC feed.  The Beeb's presenters mentioned that a plane had hit the south tower, and briefly commented that it was rather "fantastic" (in the sense of "surprising") that such a thing would happen.  I went on and mowed the grass.  Two hours later I turned the radio back on, and the world had been utterly transformed.

I cannot bring myself to watch the news today, because the talking heads on the TV cannot possibly be worthy enough to tie the shoes of those that died ten years ago, let alone talk about them.  In the face of such horror and heroism, the only fitting response is silence.