Ten years ago today, our country and my family received a terrible blow. We were attacked. Our countrymen were murdered. We were shaken. 9/11 is an important historical event that has defined much of the last ten years, but it was also a family tragedy for me, as my Uncle Donnie Regan gave his life that day in the line of duty with the New York City Fire Department.
I distinctly remember the day, as I’m sure most Americans my age do. I was living in Texas at the time–taking time off and about to start my first law firm job in a few weeks–and received a call from a close friend. They were evacuating the Dallas Federal Building. I turned on the TV. The first tower was already down. I was stunned. The second tower came down soon thereafter. My alarm at this took a little time; at first, I thought this was a replay of the first tower falling. Then I realized that this situation was even worse than I thought. Rumors of the “mall in DC” being on fire were on the news. No one knew the extent of it. I spoke briefly to my parents, when I heard that Donnie–my uncle and the father of my cousins to whom I am closest–may have been at the towers.