I almost walked into work that day; that’s how beautiful the morning was. It was a crisp, energetic start to a late summer day in metro Atlanta. Class was in full swing at Kennesaw State University and everyone was on campus on a Tuesday morning. My day started routinely. I arrived at work, a college textbook store, shortly after 8am. Even though we didn’t open until 8:30am, I liked to have plenty of time to set things up. We wouldn’t be terribly busy that day, most everyone had already purchased their textbooks for the semester; classes had started about three weeks earlier. However, as was always the case, we knew we would see a few purchases from people who thought they could it make through the semester without the textbook. So, after placing the cash drawers into the registers, starting the computers, and turning on the lights, I headed for my favorite part of the morning setup. Next to our buyback counter, where we would buy textbooks back from students at the end of a semester, was a 1990s style, top CD loading, half broken antennae, portable boom box. That radio and I had become best friends. You have to understand, the store would get awfully slow in the middle of the semester. Literally, and I do mean literally, we would have some days in the middle of a semester where we would see no more than three customers. This was expected. So, it was nice to have the music or sports talk or morning shows to occupy my idle time. Secondly, I was a member of the media. This was my 9 to 5 job. Despite the fact that I was just 23 years old, I had worked in broadcasting, mainly sports, since I was a freshman in high school. I was, and am today, a lover of all media and I also consider myself a bit of a media historian. Each morning I would bounce back and forth from the various sports talk stations to the shock jock personalities, and to news radio as well. On this day, no matter the genre of radio, they would all come together. Even to this day, I ask people to remember. I remember the exact moment I heard it. I remember I was leaning on the buyback counter and already thinking about lunch. I remember thinking about the party we were going to throw that night. And even to this day, I marvel at how one of the defining days of my life, began as a very non-descript type of moment. It was just before 9am, Tuesday, September 11th, 2001. “This just in, there is a fire at the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York.” It is truly impossible, for people who did not live through this moment as an adult, to understand the madness of the day. And I do not mean the events that took place. Obviously, you could have been a child then, and as an adult now can fully comprehend the scope of the tragic events that unfolded that day. In that day however, what was incredibly memorable, above all else, was the escalation of the events, the continual catastrophic events happening one after the other, and the fact that it all played out in the modern media. It seemed like some new disaster was happening every fifteen minutes. Remember, from the first plane making impact to the all-out evacuation of NYC, only two hours and fourteen minutes past. The first plane struck the North Tower at 8:46 am. At this point, as a media member who had worked in news before, I shifted to news radio. Obviously, there were conflicting reports early. Reports varied: from a fire in the building, to a bomb going off in the building, to a small Cessna type plane hit the building and one person even called in and said they saw a commercial airplane hit the building. I immediately dismissed this. Not unless there was a medical emergency with the pilot; or, never mind. Alright, back to the tasteless jokes on FM rock. I remember the exact time I switched the station. I remember the tone in the shock jock’s voice, changed. “Oh my God, did you see that? That was on purpose…that was on purpose. Another plane just flew straight into the other tower.” It was 9:03am, the South Tower of the World Trade Center had been hit and now we knew; we were under attack. I was stunned. I was staring outside the large, 10-foot tall windows of the store. I was blankly watching cars drive by and wondering, “How many of these people even know what is happening?” Then, someone pulled off of Chastain Road, an incredible busy road at that time of the morning. I watched the gentleman lean over and turn up his radio. And he stared intently into the dashboard of his car. I went straight back to news radio. Now, every station that I turned to was fully engulfing the story. No matter the format, the story was covered. By now everyone, media or civilian knew we were in the middle of a terrorist attack. That realization was numbing. Is this happening? We are America. This doesn’t happen here. I didn’t know how to process it because I had no point of reference or experience. Most Americans didn’t. We were living a moment unlike any other. Save Pearl Harbor. I remember the first briefing by President Bush when he officially called the act “terrorism”; it was 9:31am. Years later, I was having a casual conversation with one of my former college professors, when I asked him where he was on 9/11. He had quite a story to tell. His face ran cold and he asked me with almost a tone of anger in his voice, “Wow, we’ve never talked about this? I was in Washington, DC. I called my bosses back here in Atlanta and said, ‘You have to put me on the air now, I am looking at The Pentagon and it is on fire. My source is saying that another plane was used’.” As a former writer for the Associated Press, he spent the entire first day outside the largest office building in the world. The symbol of our military might was hit at 9:37am. The rumor of another plane was confirmed quickly and all flights were grounded by the FAA at 9:42am. Three minutes later, both the Capitol building and White House were evacuated. We couldn’t even catch our breath. Now, major cities all across America were evacuating their tallest office buildings in their downtowns. Atlanta was no different. “Oh no…” were the words I heard as I came walking back to the counter; after all, I did have to do some work. It was 9:59am, the South Tower was collapsing. This is when things went from anger to sadness. Roughly twenty minutes later came the announcement of an apparent incident in Pennsylvania. Of course, later we would learn at 10:07am, Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. I remember the thought I had at 10:28am, when the North Tower collapsed. In just an hour and forty-six minutes, both towers had been hit and collapsed, the Pentagon was attacked, the President briefed the nation, Flight 93 was confirmed high jacked and crashed, and all flights around the continental United States were diverted or grounded. The few people who did come in that day had trouble keeping up with everything that was happening. Obviously, most people were out and about that day. By default, I was feeding information to folks because I had been listening to reports all morning. It was complete chaos. The newscasters were doing nothing more than giving a play-by-play of the events. Much like I would during a football game. Numerous times, the various radio men and women would mention they were watching events unfold on live television and that was their best way of keeping the radio audience informed. I have said numerous times throughout the years, some people in America lived through 9/11 twice. They lived the moment uniquely, first on radio and then on television. Like so many, I did not see the horrific images until later in the day. Yes, I was glued to the radio, received tremendous information and reports from the incredible veterans of Atlanta radio. And, I could envision with great detail the scene in New York City, DC, or Somerset County. Still, nothing could prepare you for the details. Throughout the day, people come into the store and tell me what they saw; adding to the images in my head. Around Noon, a gentleman came in because he had been sent home. His building was under the mandatory evacuation downtown. Commerce all across the country was slamming on its brakes. Somewhere around 2:00pm an elderly couple came in. I made my way over to see if I could help them find anything specific. This was one of those days when everyone could hold a conversation with a total stranger. So, for the next few minutes we spoke of the timeline of the day. We all remarked on how amazing it was that so many events had unfolded in such a short timeframe. I bemoaned the fact I was at work. They mentioned how they were on vacation, or more precisely, on their way home from vacation. The entire time we were talking I noticed how shaken up the wife was. Next, came a moment that has stayed with me for all of these years. Kennesaw is at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in north central Georgia. Certain parts of town provide a very rocky, mountainous terrain. Just down the street from the store is a rock quarry. Routinely, the quarry will blast in the middle of the day. When this happens, the shockwaves can be felt under your feet and the sounds of the blast can be unnerving for the uninitiated. This was very poor timing. As we were standing there, a blast went off. The look of complete and utter terror on that woman’s face was nearly enough to make a hard-ass young adult like me, well up with tears. She began to shake and breathe heavy. She clutched at her husband’s arm so tight that I could see the white on his arms. After they left, I remember coming back to the realization that I, like so many Americans, was going to live through this horror twice. I knew the images were going to be disturbing. I knew when I arrived home I was going to see my country being attacked; the country that I love so dearly. So, when 4:30pm rolled around, I hopped in my car, went to the store, and promptly bought an American flag. When I arrived home, I hung the flag on my balcony before I did anything else. I wondered, as I sat on my couch, remote in hand, without the television on, how I would be able to take it. What affect would the images have on me? I remember that I turned on the television at about 5:15pm, because the first image I saw was a new one; the collapse of World Trade #7, and history tells us that happened at 5:20pm. I found this fitting. The first commentary I saw was an estimated casualty count. That was the moment I made up my mind. I made up my mind to watch every bit of coverage I could. Instead of being unsure, I wanted to be absolutely sure. I wanted to remember my Pearl Harbor. I wanted to remember what we lost physically, socially and spiritually. That is why, I freely admit, I am that annoying guy that talks about 9/11 for like two weeks every year. Too many people who lived through that day remember far too little; and it eats me up inside. It may seem macabre, but every year I watch some show or documentary or special presentation about that day. Sometimes I’ll say something, this week each year, and I can see that people do not want to be bothered. Once, I asked a guy in casual conversation, “So, where were you on this day, in 2001?” Unbelievably, he rolled his eyes at me. In that case, I either call them out or push the subject. Is that appropriate? Probably, not; ok, certainly not. I can’t help that the moment touched me so. Too many people move on too easily. I always ask people where they were. Even to this day, I ask people to remember.