Every American who is old enough remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. It is indelible. A few months after the attack, we were flying into Newark to see my family in New Jersey. The usual approach was north to south, parallel to the Hudson River. Seeing the hole in the Manhattan skyline, once so familiar, was one of the few times in my adult life that brought tears to my eyes.
There is an event on Art Hill in Forest Park this week called Flags of Valor, https://flagsofvalorstl.com/. There are something more than 7,000 flags, all in precise rows, each representing a victim of that day and the military personnel who died in the response. Even crusty old me was deeply moved.
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