Yesterday morning after jogging around Washington Square Park, I spotted a dime and a penny side by side on the sidewalk, and scooped them up and dropped them in my pocket and forgot about them. Then this morning, just as I finished my jog near where, two years ago today, Susana and I first saw the wide fire-rimmed gash in the north tower of the World Trade Center, I noticed another dime and penny on the ground. Eleven cents, which I dropped into the pocket with the others. "Eleven," said Susana. "September Eleven." Odd. That particular combination of coins two days in a row. She asked to see, and I pulled the four coins out of my pocket and gave her one set -- I guess we wanted to make this event have some meaning. As we continued walking, it occurred to me to check the dates on the coins. This you're not going to believe, but it's true. My penny was 1973. The dime was 2001. The years of the two most dramatic September 11's in our lifetime.

For my record of that Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, see Attack on New York: Day 1, The First Impact, the first entry of a five-day journal.

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