I woke up this morning trying to think of "before," they way it was on the morning "before" those planes flew into the WTC. And I can't.

The paper this morning had articles about the men and women who were part of the rescue and recovery teams at the site and the health problems they are developing. Let us remember them on this day, too.

To the people of New York city who reached out that morning
to those in need and who stood with grace and dignity in the following months as their city struggled to recover.

To the people of the United States of America who stood
their ground and reached across the nation with helping hands, prayers and donations for fellow countrymen in their time of need.

To those countries who reached out to us with compassion
and support.

Especially the people of Italy who were so kind and gracious
to those of us making the trip to their country the week following 9/11. Their outpouring of kindness and compassion
for us, our country and the people who lost their lives that day will never be forgotten.

To the families whose loved ones died that day.

All our lives changed that day and we shall remember it
always.

..."The New York City Fire Department lost 343 firefighters, almost half the number of on-duty deaths in the department's 100-year history."

Our St Patricks Day parade is the second largest in the Nation, topped only by New York City. The Fire Departments from NYC were invited down to march in the March 17, 2002 parade. A large group of them came down. As they marched along, the response from the watchers was overwhelming. There were tears shed, not only on the sidewalks, but in the ranks as well. The memories of their fallen comrades was an immense presence.

They have come back every year since then.

I felt melancholy today. Here in Denmark it was a day just like the day. Rare (for Denmark), bright blue skies...no clouds, a little crisp in the air. This day really makes me feel far away from home. I saw one truck (tractor trailer) on the road with an American flag filling the cab behind the driver -perhaps an homage?

Other than that I haven't had the t.v. on and there was no discussion of it among the parents at DD's international school.

I just read that the day is being remembered in Europe - turn on the tv. I feel sure you'll see something.

I understand how you feel, far a way from home. I'm sorry you feel melancholy.

Like Pidge, I was thinking about the "before." That weekend, I had gone up to St. Louis for a dear friend's annual Flamingo Party on Saturday, 9/9 & had had a great time seeing old friends & old co-workers. Since 9/11, I've gotten into the habit of thinking of that party as the last normal day.

Most of my personal 9/11 aftermath involved trying to get back home to Dallas, which wasn't possible until the next weekend, when I finally made it back via Amtrak.

Somehow I can't believe that it's been 5 years since the event. It is burned into my mind like it was yesterday.

My brother rang me from London an hour ago, remembering being stuck for hours and hours on his plane, in St John's, Newfoundland. He was on his way to make his first visit to the US, to me. For hours I had no idea where he was. My father was so afraid for him, he had an angina attack.

For hours I was busy with Himself, where their phones were out of action, using cellphones to work through the staff lists to account for everyone. (Their head office is across the street from WTC and was severely damaged)

My brother was stuck in Newfoundland until the following Sunday. The next day, anxious to catch up on his visit, we took the train into the City. We played on the subway, walked and walked in the silent city, absorbing the sunshine and silence of Mid-town. Everything was closed. We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, with other tourists stranded in the City, unable to go home. The cloud of smoke still rose over Downtown, a harsh metallic taste in the air. The smoke visible from Connecticut. The fires burned for months, the smell remained for months.

We had just helped my mom move to her retirement place, driving her car and a moving van down and flying back.... on September 10. It was my brother, my nephew, my son and myself, and believe me it went through my mind as they prepared the cabin for takeoff that it was probably not a good idea to have four family members on a plane together.

September 11 was my first day back to work. The drive is about 30 minutes and I remember the morning so vividly. Fifteen minutes into the commute, at the exact moment the first plane was hitting the tower, I was overcome by a thought. "This is the most beautiful, perfect day. I can never remember such a clear, blue sky."

I arrived at work and shortly after reporters started running downstairs to say, "A plane has hit the World Trade Center." And we all thought, oh, a small private plane.

Our neighbors were in Bali that morning, on a business related trip. Their experience on that day was filled with danger. Americans were ordered out of their hotels. "Where are we suppposed to go?" We don't care was the answer. Somehow their group found someone that would take them to the airport where they waited. Think "A Year of Living Dangerougly." Their small children were back home in the U.S. with the grandparents and it was a tense time until they could return.

Beanmomma - I'm sorry you're feeling alone. I noticed that hardly anyone spoke of the anniversary yesterday, choosing to reflect on the events quietly in their own way.

I spent a lot of time thinking about 911 when they began advertising the movie. Of course, the conversation turned to the appropriateness of making this film in our lifetime. Shocking even to me, venom spewed forth from my mouth, just plain anger at the helplessness I felt for the people jumping from the tower, my arms reaching out into thin air to catch them, or realizing what thoughts may have entered the minds of those moments before being crushed, the children at home unable to be held their parents any more and guilty at how I was able to call my mom, drive to my son's side and feel just a little safer in my husband's arms. I still don't understand why I feel so strongly about this horror, but it is lifechanging still. Why does it affect me so much? I had a brother who was flying that day (diverted to some place in the Orient), friends who live in New York (that lived close enough to run to the scene and shoot pictures) and a good friend lost his entire office in the WTC, but even that doesn't explain my anger. I feel empathy for the 10 times more lives lost in the tsunami, but it doesn't even come close to the hurt of the WTCs, which is so personal for me. It's confusing.

Two teams went from here with their search and rescue dogs. They worked for weeks for unbelievable hours. All they were able to find was body parts. It upset these wonderful animals just to find bits and pieces.

Molly, who looked like a Golden Retriver, came back shattered in spirit and sick from breathing the air. She had found over one thousand "pieces." She later died. She is buried with a marker in a private space under a tree.

Yesterday, many people, not just her handler and his family, brought flowers and balloons to place on her grave. An innocent animal, incapable of understanding what had happened, but still horrified by the results. She did her best.