I was stepping out of a taxi while on a business trip in my hometown of Washington when I heard that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Hurrying into the hotel in search of a television, I wondered, "How could anyone be so stupid as to hit the World Trade Center?"

Expecting to see the twisted wreckage of a wayward Cessna, I instead saw a gaping hole in the side of the building and the dark smoke that was billowing from it. My heart sank. The hole on the northern façade of 1 WTC was very close to Sara's office. The second plane hit while I stared at the television, and all mystery about the catastrophe departed with the plane's arrival; I knew at that moment that the country was under attack.

I turned on my cellphone to call Sara, ignoring the voice mail messages that were already piling up. No answer -- then a fast busy signal. I redialed repeatedly, with the same result. I called my voice mail. Nothing from Sara, only concerned friends and family.

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