Michael Morgan Taylor '81 of New York City was a bond trader at Cantor Fitzgerald. He is survived by his parents, James and Claire Taylor; two sisters; a brother; two nephews; and a niece.

Michael's brother, Jim, wrote these remembrances: Michael knew something was terribly wrong. From his computer on the 104th floor of the WTC's north tower, he instant messaged a trader in Chicago: "Something just exploded here. No kidding." It's the last time he communicated with someone outside the building.

He arrived in New York City in 1984 with degrees from Duke and UCLA, dreaming of making his first million on Wall Street. He made friends easily, but only a few knew what made him tick. The small-town boy from western Pennsylvania had made it to the big time.

The oldest of four children, Michael learned early to work hard to master his latest obsession. He earned a spot on the varsity golf team following hours of practice in the bunker. He scored the best round of his life over the Labor Day weekend, shooting a 73. It was the last weekend my parents got to see their first-born child.

Back in the 1990s, Michael bought a Porsche 911 Carerra. One problem, though: he didn't know how to drive a stick shift. His friend Jerry tried to teach him how to ease out the clutch, but it took thirty minutes of starting and stalling just to get up one hill. Realizing he needed more than Jerry's guidance, Michael recruited a golf buddy who happens to be a professional driver on the NASCAR circuit. Michael made a deal: Teach me how to drive a Porsche, I'll teach you how to drive a golf ball off the tee.

Boy, did he love Duke basketball. He rarely missed a televised game. Last January, our father was recovering from a serious heart surgery. With Dad propped up in the bed and Michael by his side, they watched Duke make an amazing comeback against Maryland. Looking back on this night, I see the parallel between the game and my dad's health. Duke was down by ten late in the game and they came back to tie and win in overtime. Earlier that day, my father had nearly died on the operating table. He fought back, went through physical therapy, and has since made a full recovery. My dad's health problems rocked Michael. He nearly lost the most important man in his life.

He was great with one-liners. Every so often, a quick retort provided a rare glimpse into his soul. He hadn't golfed much this summer because of a dating relationship. One of his golfing buddies asked him "Mike, where you been all summer?" and he replied "I've been in love."

I call these stories "Michael Moments." Anyone who lost someone in New York or Washington has their own "Michael Moments." These flashes in time bring us joy and a reason to smile. For me, it's a time to remember my brother's mischievious grin, his playful nature, his nervous pacing around a room, or his attention to detail.

We cannot let the events of September 11 overshadow our "Michael Moments." We hear so much now about "9/11." Let us remember another 9/11-Ecclesiastes 9:11.

"I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.

Moreover, no man knows when his hour will come: As fish are caught in a cruel net, or birds are taken in a snare, so men are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them."

The author of Ecclesiastes had so much, but in the end, it all came down to relationships, with God and with others. Terrorists can bring down buildings, but they cannot bring down our relationships. Don't let their their cowardly actions steal your own "Michael Moments."