My lasting memory of September 11th is obviously in terms of Flight 93 and, you know, the very real sense that they saved my life, and that I just have an unpayable debt that I owe to those families. In terms of memories, lasting, lasting images that I have, you know, at this point I’ve talked through my memories so many times that you wonder if you even remember it accurately, and I’m pretty sure that I do, but at this point I think that they’re almost memories of memories. And so I remember bits and pieces here. You know, I remember huddling around the small little 17-inch TV in the cloakroom and watching everything. I remember standing on the House Floor, and it was just vacant at the time except for Pages, and just kind of standing there and quietly crying and you know, just feeling just how surreal and movie-like this all was, you know. And here I am, a 16-year-old, looking at the American flag behind the Speaker’s chair, and I’m here of all places. I remember—you know, I’ll remember being at the candlelight vigil on the National Mall. I’ll remember sitting in the Rotunda and imagining it, you know, being crashed into by a plane. You know, I’ll remember the Joint Session and the President holding the policeman’s badge. Those are things that I just can’t imagine ever forgetting.