When I first heard that an airplane had hit one of the Towers in downtown NYC, my first thought was that some private Cessna got confused. I couldn’t believe it was passenger jet. Then the second tower got hit. I had the radio on in the office as the rest of the crew had gone to a meeting on Capitol Hill. The radio station called one of the Arab embassies and asked the poor guy who answered the phone if he personally knew anything about what was happening. Inasmuch as he was a janitor, the answer was a befuddled no. Then as I was taking a call from a client I heard the Pentagon had been hit and I had to diplomatically tell the caller what was happening and hang up. Our office at the time was only minutes away from the Pentagon via 395. No I did not hear or feel that attack or the resulting sirens. I simply closed the office, leaving a note behind that I was going someplace to shoulder a rifle and actually drove over to Ft. Belvoir which was going batshit crazy with armed to the teeth MP’s actually throwing vehicles out the main gate. No chance of getting in and getting armed. Went home. Took forever to hear from husband who worked in a neighborhood just the otherside of 395 from the Pentagon. Finally got him home. Checked in with grown kids and determined that they were OK. First born kid related that the company she worked for had a huge number of consultants on all the planes and that she worried the company would collapse but donated blood anyway. (The company did eventually lay off hordes of people.) Went out on fron lawn. Looked up at the most perfect sky and sang Amazing Grace for my own self. Made a promise that whatever someone else destroyed, on my own part I would build something. Ended up rebuilding house. ( And thats another story for another time) Will never forget the look of strong resolve I saw on everyone that day. Nobody crashed or caved. It was one determined foot in front of the other.