Saturday, September 8, 2001, I had driven around town, with the windows down, playing a Dusty Springfield cd (“Son of a Preacher Man”) and just enjoying a day in America.  I lived in just north of Albany, NY, about 15 minutes from the airport. Planes flew overhead on a regular basis. I barely noticed them. Tuesday morning, I … More “Look Mama, a plane!” My 9/11 Story