The 9/11 we all remember took place on a Tuesday, just like today. I could write about about where I was and what I saw and who said what but, to me, nothing marks this day more appropriately than what I saw this morning at the local fire station on 66th and Amsterdam.

They're a great bunch of guys and they give out dog biscuits to the neighborhood dogs and stuff like that. They also put out fires and on the exterior wall of the station there are about a dozen plaques in memory of their brothers who were lost forever six years ago today. They were just doing their job.

This morning, the garage doors were open and they were dressed in their dress blue uniforms and they were with family and friends, and they remembered together.

As my wife and I passed the fire station on the way to the subway she sighed and said that she wished that there was something we could do for them. I do too.

Thank you New York's Bravest. We love you.