I watched the events unfold from Fire Station One in Evanston while eating breakfast with my fellow firefighters. After the first plane hit the World Trade Center, I called home to tell my wife to turn on the “Today” show.
As we were speaking, the second plane hit the south tower. I could not believe my eyes. All of us let out a collective scream and I could no longer hear my wife. I remember thinking and asking my wife, “Did this really just happen?”
We both stayed on the phone for a while; neither of us could speak. Finally we both said, “I love you.”
It was strange being on duty that day. My colleagues and I were riveted to the TV between emergency calls. We watched and soon realized that many firefighters were going to lose their lives.
Later that morning I stopped by school to see my children. We hugged. I knew they were safe.
I called my mom and dad and brother and sister. I called close friends. I needed to talk to those most important to me.
The aftermath of Sept. 11 is an affirmation that what matters most in life are your family and friends.
