If you’re old enough to remember September 11, 2001, you have a story to tell. You know the precise moment you learned an airplane had slammed into one of the World Trade Center towers. Someone called you in a panic and screamed to turn on the TV. Maybe by then it was two planes, and both towers. Your principal announced it over the school P.A. system while you and your classmates stared at each other, bewildered. Or you watched with your family at home, or with colleagues at work, or with strangers in a diner. You saw the towers belching smoke into a perfect blue sky.
Hijacked jets. The Twin Towers and the Pentagon in flames. America under attack. You remember it the way an earlier generation remembered the moment they heard President Kennedy had been shot, or Martin Luther King Jr. You remember it like yesterday, because nothing has felt the same since.