I remember exactly where I was September 11, 2001. I remember the shock at hearing the man on patrol squelch over the loudspeaker to turn to the news. I remember my brain slowly processing what I was watching...a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center North Tower, and as the reporters began to speculate about the possibility of it being deliberate, another plane hit the South Tower. I watched it...live. I remember being in a room full of the bravest men I know...men that are always willing to give all they have to help another, knowing they can be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice...being hushed and humbled by the realization of 9/11.
The kitchen table at a firehouse has almost every profession present. There are “firehouse” lawyers, doctors, coaches, accountants, mechanics...and politicians. Like all of America, the political views at the firehouse table are as varied as snowflakes from the sky...and not one of them came up on 9/11. When the South Tower fell...

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