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AbstractIt was a Tuesday morning much like any other. I was printing and collating the annual budgetary report to distribute to my church congregation which I was to carry to the church staff meeting on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The television was turned on, but the sound was muted. I gazed at the screen to see an astonishing image: the World Trade Center was ablaze.&nbsp; My first response was fear. Just a year earlier, I was a financial executive working on the 73rd floor of Tower Two and many of my former colleagues and friends were still working there. I noticed the radio tower through the smoke and flames and relaxed slightly – the fire was in Tower One. My friends must be OK. I turned the sound on and watched as the day unfolded in tragedy. Just an hour later, Tower Two collapsed. There could be no word to describe my emotion other than terror. The emotion did not subside for weeks. Somehow, all of my friends escaped from the 73rd floor. Others were not so fortunate. My best friend lost his cousin; a parishioner lost 40 friends and employees; our local fire station lost 90% of its staff.