That's life 19 years after 9/11.

As you can imagine having a birthday on 9/11, as I do, can elicit some complicated emotions. Only once in my life have I celebrated the demise of another human being, but that day in 2011 when those soldiers got bin Laden, I got my birthday back.

I was driving the kids to daycare 10 years earlier when I heard the news on the radio, and while the kids chirped away, I knew what it meant and I knew that life would change— at least for a while. I lamented the loss of innocence that childhood should guarantee but seldom does. At least not in my lifetime, growing up with the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and RFK, the Vietnam War, Kent State, the Watts Riots and Watergate.

I was to give a keynote speech on the morning of September 12, for a big Wahpeton fundraiser, and from there my ex and I were to fly to Milwaukee for the National Newspaper Convention. I'd won a second Best Humor Column award and was determined to get this one in person.

I didn't sleep that night with the news on the hotel TV, radio reports of panicked people in long gas lines. What was I going to say to those people? And it was so hard being away from our kids; they were safe with their grandparents, but everything was so chaotic and uncertain. At 5 a.m. I went out for a long walk before what felt like my execution.

The newspaper publisher's wife had the task of driving us to the event, but she was new to the area and got lost. With each wrong turn, I prayed harder that we'd miss the damn thing. But, wouldn't you know, she found the place at the last possible moment.

Deep breath. I'd brought some outrageous multi-colored "clown shoes" just for the fun of it and had hesitated in the hotel room about wearing them. But, I put them on. I still don't know why.

There was a titter, some giggles from some nuns in the audience, as I walked the long aisle to the front of the room with my neon pink, yellow, green, and orange shoes – good! – but I'd never been so anxious. I'd prepared a humorous speech and I imagined it going torturously, agonizingly flat.

I saw a few familiar faces among the packed room, including that of my ex in the front row, who smiled, supremely confident that I would pull this off, and that helped, but I didn't share that confidence.

As it was everywhere in the country at that moment, there was tension in the room, like a boil needing to be lanced. Deep breath. Here goes nothing. I waded in, and praised Jesus, Joseph, Mary, and all the saints, they laughed at the first line. It was like a big, joyous sigh of relief, and they laughed from the beginning until I got to the end, when I offered a few words about what had happened and my confidence that this great country of ours would get through it all. And even then they were smiling.

In retrospect, I realized that we all needed each other that morning. They needed me to succeed, and they gave me strength when my own was lacking.

"Thanks," a clergyman said to me afterward, "We all needed to laugh." I suppose there were other kind words and pats on the back that always come with such events, but it's just a blur.

I was thrilled when they grounded all the planes. I've never been more pleased to miss a flight, never so glad to see my kids when we got back. For a few moments, things seemed, if not right with the world, better, and at least survivable.

And here we are again in tumultuous times, and just like always, we need each other, that same generosity of spirit, to get back on our feet again. I believe we still have it in us. I believe our better angels are better than we imagine if we remember to summon them.

The National Newspaper Association mailed me the plaque. It's in the office basement somewhere. I stumbled upon it the other day but I left it there. It just doesn't seem that important, anymore. I'd received everything I needed in Wahpeton, N.D., 19 years ago.