Friday the 11th: We Remember

 I was in my first year of teaching, my grandma was dying, I was preparing to get married in 3 months, and I was setting up for Mass when the priest burst in to the chapel saying, "what do I talk about in my homily?" 

And that's how I found out. 

For the rest of the day we watched TV and read about virtue. My mom came home early and pulled my brothers out of school a little early too. In Wichita the skies were silent, which is rare for an airplane manufacturing town.

And every year since, I tell my students or remember with my family, and one of the parts that makes me choke up every time is the sacrifice of the passengers in Pennsylvania. What courage.