Remembering 9/11

Updated: September 11, 2006, 1:36 PM ET
At about 9 a.m. on Sept. 11, 2001 -- maybe it was 8:59 -- our phone rang. It was my mom calling. Turn on your TV, she said. It looks like the pilot of a small plane had suffered a heart attack, she speculated, and had just slammed into the World Trade Center.

I walked upstairs, away from where our daughter, 22 months old at the time, was playing, and flicked on the television, maybe three or four seconds before the second plane hit the South Tower.

We watched the unfolding horror for about 20 minutes, and then my wife and I took our daughter to the local playground in our town, which is about 30 miles north of New York City. As Sydney climbed up ropes and squeaked down slides and asked for us to put her in the swing, time and again, the alarms for the local fire departments in the area began to sound. She was startled; she has never liked loud noises.