As I watched in horror and amazement, the first tower of the World Trade Center collapsed. A sensation of astonishment came over me. The phone was still pressed against my ear, when Nancy explained that the Harvard office of the recording secretary on Mount Auburn Street was sending everyone home.
I sat there with my mouth open, trying to understand what I was seeing. Words like attack, phrases like “God help us,” and frantic news anchors’ voices came at me like bombs during the blitz.