We passed a sign that said "Flight 93 Memorial, 3 Miles" with an arrow pointing north. I hit the brakes, did a U-turn, and followed the signs to the middle of a field outside the tiny town of Shanksville, PA.
I was at my office in the Rayburn Building on a beautiful September morning almost six years ago when the world turned upside down.
We were gathered around the TV, watching the World Trade Center burn, when one of my colleagues pointed out the window and told us to turn around. Black smoke filled the air across the Potomac River from the gash ripped in the Pentagon by another hijacked airplane.
The Capitol Hill Police rushed into our office and told us to evacuate RIGHT NOW. They didn't tell us that Flight 93, still airborn, was headed for the Capitol -- they just told us to leave NOW. Had the passengers on that flight not acted to bring the plane down in a field in rural Pennsylvania, my life would be very different than it is today.
As I stood there this afternoon, looking at the place where United Flight 93 crashed in the midst of corn fields and strip mines, I didn't expect it to hit me as strongly as it did. But watching the sun set behind the waving flags and makeshift memorials, I was overcome with feelings of grief and gratitude.
Plans to build a permanent memorial are underway, with the dedication planned for the 10th anniversary in 2011.
http://www.flight93memorialproject.org/
http://www.honorflight93.org/site/c.8dJCKQNuFoG/b.1555703/k.BD7E/Home.htm
This is what was waiting for me when I got home from work today. 
The last stop on our weekend road trip was at the Sideling Hill visitors center, on I-68 in Big Pool, MD.
Because we were traveling east, we had to take a footbridge over the highway to get to the viewing platform. Crockett was a bit confused about where the traffic was coming from, but had no trouble climbing to the top of the stairs to get a good view.
Once again, we decided to ditch the Turnpike in favor of backroads. This time, we took US Route 219 -- the Mason Dixon Highway -- south from Somerset, PA to I-68 in Cumberland, MD. 68 runs across the panhandle of Maryland, and meets up with 70 at Hancock.
Crockett had fun in Ohio, playing with his human cousins Jake, Freddy & Milton.
Once again, the Miller girls converged on Swanton, Ohio for a pool party at our Uncle Bill & Aunt Lee's house. Though Judy flew in from California and Shawn and I made the drive from Maryland, my dad wasn't there this year -- his Lions Club duties intervened. We managed to have a good time in spite of his absence!
We passed a sign that said "Flight 93 Memorial, 3 Miles" with an arrow pointing north. I hit the brakes, did a U-turn, and followed the signs to the middle of a field outside the tiny town of Shanksville, PA. 
Our drive west took us past a couple of beautifully painted barns. According to a 2004 story I found in the Pittsburgh paper, see link below, the barns are part of a project to tell the history of the Lincoln Highway. 
At first, we thought he was Little Boy Blue, but it turns out he's the Pied Piper!
Rather than take the dreaded Pennsylvania Turnpike into Ohio, we decided to stay on Route 30 when we stopped in Breezewood. I'm glad we did!
It's becoming an annual event to invite the Supper Club -- and their families -- out to the house for a little recreation on the Bay. 
Shawn and I volunteered to help with Wish-a-Fish's annual family day on the Bay. The charity works with mentally and physically impaired and sick children and their families -- giving them a day on the water, helping the kids and their families catch fish, and treating them to a picnic and prizes at the end.
Lots of algae!
.... Mike Canada, dropped in to see us tonight. He is in the area visiting family, and decided to duck out of a baby shower to go fishing with Shawn and have dinner with us at Deep Creek.
... on a sunny Saturday afternoon!
Jake and Crockett had a big time this week. I'm not sure what our little (ha!) dog will do when his buddy goes home tonight!
