In February of 2008 I was visiting New York City and, like many Americans, found myself drawn to Ground Zero to both tour and try and visualize for myself the horror that was 9/11. It was a moving experience to say the least, made even more so my guide, the pleasant and very personable Pat Foley. Pat moved with us from location to location filling us with the kinds of facts and figures you would expect from a tour guide. There was something a bit compelling though in her narrative that made everything she was telling us seem very personal. At some point during our walk around the various areas she revealed that her son was a New York Firefighter, a source of obvious pride to her, but which filled me with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. I remember whispering to my companion at the time that I had a bad feeling about this, a feeling that was sadly justified towards the end of our tour when she revealed to us the circumstances of her son's death.

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