At Seventeen

(The original World Trade Center, collection of the 9/11 Memorial Museum, gift of Jonathan Lockwood Smith, JLS Photo)

I don't have profound words today.

The memories are there still. They'll always be there.

How did we spend September 10? The Yankees were rained out.

That's what I remember.

September 11, 2001? I remember it all. I remember how I felt. I remember the looks on others faces. How I was supposed to go to a meeting in White Plains and spent a large chunk of the day in the WGCH newsroom and offices.

How I was beginning to prep for Greenwich at Norwalk. They were to play that Saturday. Were.

I remember how I watched and listened.

How I wondered if this was World War III.

That look at the sky when I heard on WCBS (880 am) that the second plane had hit, and I knew.

We all knew.

There were no tears that day.

Just shock.

What the ****? No, really. What the **** was going on?

Driving home on a basically empty Interstate 684. I'll always remember that.

The TV constantly on. Or the radio. Or -- because I'm me -- both.

That Greenwich/Norwalk game never happened. They played Trinity Catholic 10 days later.

The Cardinals football family suffered a loss in the attacks. I always look for his name.

The memories are still there. We push them aside most of the time. Then yank them back out when it's brought up, or on this very day.

For many, the horror began around 8am on airplanes departing from Boston, Washington Dulles, and Newark.

For the rest of us, that time will always be 8:46.

It carried on until 10:29, when the North Tower collapsed.

It seemed to never end, with part of the Pentagon collapsing, and WTC Tower 7 also falling.

September 12 was a strange day. It was my first time on the air.

We insisted on doing a show, and didn't need anyone to tell us how to do it.

It was a golf show, but it wasn't a golf show that night.

It was cathartic (and it's embedded at the bottom of this post).

It all still hurts.

It was an event that happened in New York, Washington, and Shanksville, PA.

But it wasn't just a New York event. This was our country.

And our world.

So much to say. I've written plenty.

Year after year I write on the blog and hurt for friends and loved ones and strangers who lost. I understand we all lost something, even if it was the end of our innocence.

Seventeen years.

And I still feel like I've said nothing.

*****