20 years later, more than 20 local memories.

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Barry attended the church I served in Cayce. He wandered in looking for food and company.

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In order to balance great events in my life, I have turned to writing my thoughts on paper. In extreme cases, this takes the form of poetry.

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On Sept. 11, 2001, I stepped out of a very boring seminar and was shocked to see one of New York’s Trade Towers afire on the lobby television.…

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It was a beautiful late summer Tuesday morning. I typically get to work early in the morning for paperwork and to collect my thoughts for the day ahead.

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FLORENCE, S.C. – Barry Jones was in the Pentagon 20 years ago when American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the western side of the Pentagon at approximately 9:45 a.m.

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HARTSVILLE, S.C. – Scottie Hill remembers the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center from the perspective of someone who has heard the horror stories, who has witnessed the effects of that day on thousands of people who were at Ground Zero or who were exposed to the aftermath.

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FLORENCE, S.C. – Meggie Baker arrived in Washington, D.C. a few days before the plane crashed into the Pentagon on Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, as a freshman at George Washington University.

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FLORENCE, S.C. – Marc David will always remember working to keep the Colgate University campus together after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on t…

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FLORENCE, S.C. -- That the United States departed Afghanistan without achieving closure wasn't entirely unexpected, the odds were never it its favor.

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What happened 20 years ago remains to me a vivid memory.

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The story that I am going to share with you about my personal involvement with the historical and unprecedented events that took place on Sept…

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The question asked in the title of this article is a paraphrase from a Alan Jackson song. Where were you and what are your memories of that fateful September day in 2001 when over 3,000 Americans died. I am confident you, along with most others, have many recollections. My memories actually begin before September 11th.

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Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, began as a regular school day for principals, faculty, support staff and students.

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Of course, golf has to do with everything. It is a microcosm of life. But connected to something as serious as 9/11?

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I remember the tragedy of 9/11 very well. My husband had a doctor’s appointment that morning, and I had just gotten out of the shower and came…

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On the nightly news on Aug. 30, the reporter said the withdrawal from Afghanistan was “the end of an era.” That struck me. I had never thought of myself as part of an “era.”

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Sunday, Sept. 9, 2001, was a perfect fall day. I was returning to New Jersey from a wonderful weekend of air shows on Long Island, New York, with my friend John Ray.

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In 2001, I was living in White Plains, New York. My husband and I relocated to Florence in 2006. We were both retired, and on that tragic morning we were having breakfast.

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Sept. 11, 2001 is another day that will live in infamy. I wasn't around on December 7, 1941, but I vividly remember 9/11/01 and the days that followed. Some people have forgotten who attacked us.

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I reported early to work that Tuesday morning in September. I handle media relations for Florence-Darlington Technical College, and we were hosting a 9 a.m. video conference call with our president and the president of our sister college in Germany. It was an announcement of a new partnership between our two schools, and we thought it was going to be a major local story. I had already invited the media, but I wanted to remind them that morning with a personal phone call.

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Walking out of a patient’s room in Timmonsville, S.C., I was summoned to the phone. My husband said, “Have you seen the news? America is under attack?”

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Like most husbands, I sometimes had a problem with remembering my wife's birthday. This particular year, I remembered.

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On Sept. 11, 2011, I was the S.C. director of the Federation of Southern Cooperatives and a board member for the National Family Farm Coalition that worked on USDA policies. We were in D.C. to lobby Congress.

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I got on the “D” train subway in the Bronx at 196th Street at around 8 a.m. going to 42nd Street and 6th Avenue in Manhattan. I was installing an exhibition at the International Center of Photography (ICP).

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Reflecting on 9/11 reminds me of a particular Psalm. That week my pastor was out of town for a pastor’s workshop and asked me to lead our Wednesday night prayer meeting.