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For years, I listened to my grandparents talk about where they were and what they were doing when they learned that Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor. Of course I couldn't relate to what they felt, what the nation suffered through, or understand the significance of Dec. 7.
That all changed for me on Sept. 11, 2001 when terrorists attacked our home shores, brought down skyscrapers, struck the heart of our nation's capital, and cast us into war, much like Pearl Harbor did in 1941.
I remember the day vividly. I was working at Ripley Car Wash on a bright sunny morning and there was a long line of cars waiting for a wash before the garage door even opened. It should have remained busy for the entire day, but all of a sudden, the amount of customers dipped to a trickle.
The business manager returned from the office and told me a plane had struck the World Trade Center and me being a news junkie even back then, I quickly rushed into the break room and turned on the news.
Moments later, a second plane struck the other tower and any work my bosses hoped to get out of me that day had vanished.
Dumbstruck and confused, I checked out of work early and went home to begin my 24-hour news viewing marathon, in which there seemed to be new developments by the minute.
A third plane crashed into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. and another plane crashed in Shanksville in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. There were also dozens of unconfirmed reports of bomb scares in the national capital, other hijacked planes, and other potential terrorist activity, which proved to be unsubstantiated.
There was also an Anthrax scare as a major biological terrorist attack in the United States involving letters laced with deadly anthrax spores was unleashed just one week after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
Through it all, I slowly began to understand this was my generation’s "moment" just like Pearl Harbor was for my grandparents and John F. Kennedy's assassination was for my parents.
That day has lived with me since and I will carry it and the emotions that came with it until my dying day.
The images from that day, the people jumping from the top of the towers to escape being burned alone, the search and rescue effort, the people covered in dust and ash are engrained in my mind.
Those images made me angry then and like many people, I wanted revenge on the masterminds of the attacks.
For years, I would take every Sept. 11 off and turn on the news and watch the "As it Happened" coverage. It was a good reminder of that day, how it impacted our country, and how it pulled together in the aftermath.
It is hard to believe the attacks were 25 years ago. It is hard to believe that the unity they brought has evaporated and transformed into division and hate. Sometimes I ask myself if the only way our nation can come together again is via another large-scale tragic event. It should never come down to that. It should not take the tragic deaths of thousands to unite.
As I work with my staff -- which includes a reporter who was yet to be born and another that was only three years old -- the shoe is on the other foot. I know they struggle to understand the tragedy and stories from that day.
We talked about what their generational "moment" was or what it could be. Where will they be when the news comes across their cellphones? How will they react? How will it impact the country or their personal lives?
My fingers are crossed that their moment in time isn't as tragic as the ones scattered throughout history.
My hope is by talking to them about Sept. 11, and how it impacted us, maybe it will help them understand if some of their older peers, like myself, may be a little off or lack a little focus today.