Whether we realize it or not, each of us has at least one point in our lives where it all could have ended. For me, it was an unmarked oil barrel sitting in the middle of I-95 in the unlit Larchmont overpass, late one night circa 1989... instinctive swerve and good suspension, or maybe something more powerful at work. Every day since that point is an extra gift. For us, collectively, 9/11/01, is such a point. We mourn, we avenge, and we treasure and add meaning to every single moment going forward. And then, we mourn again.