I grew up near Huntington. I was 12 when the plane crashed. For years, the crash haunted the town, the school and the area. When I attended Marshall from 1976 to 1980, there was always a hushed reverence for those who died so young, so needlessly. Over the years, the Crash still reveberates in my mind. In fact, I still wonder why the pain never really fades away. I live hundreds of miles away from Huntington and when I visit every year, the campus still reminds me of that terrible, foggy, fateful Saturday night in November 1970. We must never forget where we've been so that we know where we can go. Go Herd!