Scott Swanson
Significant public events have a way of searing themselves into our memories.
My mother, now in her mid-80s, remembers the exact moment she heard that President John F. Kennedy had been shot.
Likewise, I remember Tuesday morning, Sept. 11, 2001, when I awoke to the sound of our telephone ringing. It was my brother, who lived in Japan.
“Turn on your TV,” he said. “Something bad’s happened.”
My wife Miriam and I did…