The Flight 93 tragedy of September 2001 was not that long ago. But many of my grandchildren were not yet born on that life-altering day for our nation. I recently visited the memorial in Somerset, Pennsylvania. As I stood silently staring at the marble wall that traces a portion of the flight path of the plane as it began its descent into the earth, I realized the steady stream of viewers were equally quiet, speaking in hushed tones. There was an automatic reverence for the lives of the heroes who fought to defend our nation within the metal framed walls of their battlefield.
Now the responsibility falls to those of us who breathlessly watched the news coverage that fateful day of the airplanes purposely taking life and attempting to destroy the hope and principles upon which our country was founded. Yes, I will continue to show my photos to each grandchild, as they come of age to comprehend, so the gravity of the day will not be forgotten. Many men and women gave their lives to fight for the freedoms and liberty upon which I stand. It is not a self-made suggestion within my heart, it is a passion.
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