FRANK Schiff remembers the time when “nine” and “eleven” were nothing more than odd numbers.
He also remembers the moment when that changed forever.
On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, the Denver-born and raised New Yorker was on his way to work in Manhattan, in a building across the street from the World Trade Center. He had taken his usual subway and gotten off at his usual station, named after and directly beneath the World Trade Center.
Everything seemed as normal and routine as could be.
Until he reached the street above.
A wall of panicked people were rushing in his direction. Beyond them, Schiff could see flames shooting from the first WTC tower into which, just “seconds before,” a hijacked jetliner had crashed.