There are things that happen in life that will always stay with you. There are events that occur where you can remember every little detail of that day, no matter how mundane. Maybe it's the adrenaline running through your veins, or perhaps it's your heightened sense of awareness of things that are so much out of the norm, they are seared into your memories.

For my grandparents it was the bombing of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, and the atomic bomb being dropped of Hiroshima, Japan. They essentially marked the beginning and end of World War II for the United States.

For my parents it was the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, an event that stunned the nation and played out over television.

For myself there are two events. First was the break up of the Space Shuttle Challenger as it lifted off from Cape Canaveral on Tuesday, January 28, 1986. In those days NASA launches were still big news, and the inclusion of a civilian teacher, Christa McAuliffe, made the launch a televised event. We watched as the shuttle took off, just like so many other missions, then exploded in full view of the crowds that had gathered to see the historic mission. I can remember where I was and what I had been doing that day after watching the national tragedy.

The second event was what is today referred to as 9/11, and I can remember that day's events as if it happened just a few months ago. It amazes me today, when I go to a high school ball game or event and realize that none of these kids were even alive when that horrible day happened.

I can't tell you first hand accounts of what happened in New York, Washington D.C., or Pennsylvania. I can only tell you about my experience here in Tennessee, and how that day changed things forever.

September 11, 2001, occurred on a crisp clear summer morning. Much like the weather seen all across the east coast, the sun was shining on a near cloudless day. It was one of those days that you almost hated to be at work. It was one of those Goldilocks days, not too hot, but not too cool either.

Middle Tennessee is in the Central Time zone, and all the events happening that day were happening at times one hour ahead of our paper. At 7:59 a.m., Eastern time, American Airlines Flight 11 took off from Boston Logan International Airport, bound for Los Angeles International Airport. Fifteen minutes later, United Airlines Flight 175 took off from Boston Logan, also bound for Los Angeles. While this is occurring, Flight 11 is hijacked.

At 8:20 American Airlines Flight 77 took off from Washington Dulles International Airport, also bound for Los Angeles. Just 22 minutes after that United Airlines Flight 93 took off from Newark International Airport, bound for San Francisco, as Flight 175 is being hijacked.

At that time I was working as the editor of The Middle Tennessee Times located on the Smithville Square, right next to the DeKalb Sheriff's Department. Now part of the Smithville Review, the Times was a weekly newspaper that came out every Tuesday afternoon.

It was press day, meaning that early in the morning we would send our digital paper documents to the printer, which would have the printed papers delivered to us later that afternoon. But, on this particular day we had held the paper for a very important local story. A local funeral home director had been on trial for embezzling prepaid funeral funds, and was due to be sentenced that morning. The sentencing happened early, and we quickly added to the story, then sent the files off to the printer.

At 8:46 a.m., Eastern time, Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center, between the 93rd and 99th floors. Just four minutes later Flight 77 is hijacked.

In those days we had a television at the office so we could watch the news, and this morning we were drawn to a story of an apparent aircraft accident at the World Trade Center in New York City. "What a horrible accident," all of us in the office were saying. "How could such a thing happen?"

We all watched the television, glued to what we thought at that time was a terrible disaster caused by maybe a small plane with engine failure, or maybe a tourist plane having some sort of trouble. I don't think the idea of terrorism had even been brought up. It was terrible, but not something big enough to warrant writing a story right away.

At 9:03 a.m., Eastern, we watched live as Flight 175 crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center between the 77th and 85th floors. There were still several minutes before we understood what we had just seen. At first there were reports that maybe a news helicopter had crashed, and we thought, "How careless could they have been to crash into the other tower while covering the first crash?"

It wasn't long before the news channels replayed the second crash and we all realized that it was a passenger airliner, a huge commercial aircraft. A chill ran up my back and I knew this was a much bigger story. We called our press in White County and said something weekly papers never get to say, "Stop the presses!"

We all scrambled trying to gain as much information as we could. I was actually writing the story as it occurred. In just a little amount of time, I learned everything I could about the Twin Towers, and soon realized there could be as many as 50,000 employees in the buildings alone. The prospect of there being an unimaginable amount of victims became very apparent. Of course there was no way to know in those early hours or even days.

At 9:28 a.m., Eastern, Flight 93 is hijacked. Nine minutes later, Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. It was at this point that we all felt a certain amount of fear. This was now happening in other places, and none of us were sure what was going to happen next. As we scanned different news channels, and online news wires, we soon heard reports of other possible hijackings. It was no longer just an attack, I felt we were now somehow at war.

At 9:59 the South Tower, the second tower to be hit, collapsed. I watched this as I was writing the story. The menacing cloud crept block by block like some kind of monster from a horror movie, swallowing people as they ran down the streets. The monster choked its victims with ground up concrete, sheetrock, furniture, and everything else that had been in the building as it was ground up and vaporized. It would be learned in the months that followed that for many victims there were simply no remains left to be recovered.

Just four minutes after the South Tower collapsed, Flight 93 crashed into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. The news didn't pick up on this right away, but reports of another airliner crash in rural America was somehow even more frightening. It wasn't just high profile targets. Now planes were falling out of the sky in the middle of nowhere. What was next?

We soon learned that all aircraft across the entire country had been ordered to land. In addition, overseas flights had been diverted to other countries.

At 10:28 the North Tower collapsed. It had started out as such a beautiful day, but when the second tower fell it was as if Hell had risen up and swallowed part of the city. We watched as the cloud grew and spread out across the island. People were running down the streets in mass, trying to get away from the horrifying scene.

For me the time was up. I had already written a page of material and was a couple of hours past my deadline. I had to end it and get the paper to the press, but the story continued in the hours, days, and months to follow.

Our paper was the first in Tennessee to print the story, but there was so much more to tell. That evening was eerily silent. There was hardly any traffic on the roadways, and the starry skies were clear. Any other night you would have been able to look up in the sky and see several airliners, their jet stream streaking the horizon or the wing lights blinking in the distance. This night there was nothing.

We went through many different emotions that day. First there was shock, stunned by the visions we had witnessed. Next, there was sadness. I think we all had tears as we had watched, albeit separated by a TV screen, the deaths of countless civilians, firefighters, and police officers.

Paranoia eventually swept in and there were many false reports and calls not only in the big cities, but also locally. The Capitol and White House had been evacuated, as well as the Sears Tower in Chicago. Buildings in Los Angeles were vacated, and even in Nashville fear led to structures being evacuated. The DeKalb Courthouse was emptied at one point, and authorities investigated three Middle Eastern men who had been photographing Center Hill Dam. It turned out to be engineering students taking the photographs.

Another incident alerted authorities after a plane took off from Smithville Airport, despite the nationwide no fly zone being implemented. We all thought that if the pilot gets shot down, it would be his own fault.

Later, we felt anger. Bin Laden had perpetuated the attacks by thinking America would fear additional attacks and pull out of Middle East affairs. He badly misjudged the United States' reaction. The reality was that he enraged Americans, who not only wanted justice, but also vengeance. Men and women soon joined the military and before long we were in two wars, in Afghanistan and Iraq. The War on Terror began.

The events of that day not only affected America, but also the world. It was later described as a day when all of the free world were Americans. I remember seeing the Royal Guard at Buckingham Palace coming out and playing the United States' National Anthem, something that had never happened in history. 

That day changed so many other things. The "Friendly Skies" were no more. The days of taking big bottles of shampoo and toothpaste in your luggage were gone. No longer could you visit the cockpit of the jet while in flight. We entered the days of metal detectors and x-ray machines.

The loss of freedoms for the sake of safety also spread to other areas. You no longer could go to football games or concerts without bag checks or metal detector screenings. Visiting some government buildings became more complicated as well.

We all found a new respect for firefighters, police officers, and EMS workers. One week later, DeKalb County held an event at the courthouse to remember those lost and honor the brave emergency workers who marched into danger.

I think we all lost a little bit of our innocence that day. It's still hard to comprehend. We lost a sense of security, but endured. It was a day of shock, horror, sadness, and anger, but also great pride and love. It will be a day that I will never forget as long as I live.