The phone jolted me awake just before six. In my profession, when you get a phone call at an uncivilized hour—and once you're retired, believe me, 0600 is uncivilized—you just assume it's bad news. I steeled myself as I picked up.


"Roy—turn on the TV. Right now."

"OK—what channel?"

"Doesn't matter."

That was a bad sign.

I turned on the TV, as Joanne stirred and rolled over.

I stayed on the line with Johnny. Together, we saw the second plane hit. And we both knew, instantly, that nothing was ever going to be the same.