Like many who remember exactly where they were that day, I was working in my home office on a grant contract when I heard on the radio that a plane had inexplicably struck one of the World Trade Center towers. Stunned, I turned on the news and watched the first tower burn, then saw the second tower hit minutes later. I called my wife at work to see if she had heard, as the news was spreading fast. Soon came reports of the Pentagon attack and United Airlines Flight 93, the Boeing 757 that crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. In the days that followed, shock hardened into resolve as search-and-rescue efforts began. It was a moment of national unity unlike any we have seen since.
The horrific events of the day dramatically changed American society. Safety and security checks were strengthened, especially at airports. A new Department of Homeland Security was created, and its principal focus was to fight the threat of terrorism. Police, firefighters, and the military were trained in methods to better operate as a team to respond to potential future terror incidents. Surveillance was also stepped up with the passage of the Patriot Act, with some concerns about overreach and its impact on privacy.
I grew up learning about Pearl Harbor, the closest modern parallel to 9/11 in its impact on America. I encountered it in history books and through older generations who remembered it firsthand. For them, it was a turning point that reshaped the nation as it mobilized for World War. Still, it was an experience I could never fully relate to.
9/11 was different. In the mid-1980s, I visited New York and rode to the top of the Twin Towers. It was breathtaking. I still have the fold-out brochure of the panoramic 1,360-foot view with a bold-lettered title, ironically, “The Closest You’ll Ever Get to Heaven.” Today two large reflecting pools stand at what was the foundation of those structures, lined by a bronze edge with the names inscribed of all 2,977 victims, including six killed in the terrorist bombing at the Center in 1993.
My father, a World War II veteran and fire captain in St. Louis, died four years before the attacks. He would have been heartbroken by the tragedy, especially the loss of 343 firefighters who gave their lives trying to save others. At the time, I was researching and writing about the history of firefighting in St. Louis and reviewing books that soon appeared with harrowing accounts from survivors of Ground Zero.
During a spring 2009 road trip to visit family in New Jersey, my family and I stopped in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. The site remained bare farmland, much as it had been when Flight 93 was diverted and crashed into a field as heroic passengers fought to stop the terrorists. The only marker was a tiny makeshift shed, surrounded by a fence covered with memorials left by visitors just off a gravel road. Inside, a U.S. Park Ranger retold the story of that day with a photo flip chart — low-tech, but deeply effective. Todd Beamer, who helped organize the effort to regain control of the plane, famously rallied the others with “Let’s roll!” Their actions likely averted the destruction of the U.S. Capitol or the White House. The phrase moved me so much that I changed my license plate to “LT’SRL.” Occasionally, another driver would honk and give me a thumbs-up. They understood. Before we left, I picked up a small handful of dirt and rock from the roadside and tucked it into a plastic bag that I keep as a reminder of one of the most tragic days in American history.
Like others in the aftermath of 9/11, I’ve internalized the experience. But so much of what we experience over time crawls into the recesses of our minds, and every now and then we must be reminded, just as those who haven’t lived through it have to be taught.
My son was born five months after 9/11, and I’ve always considered him and those in his school class to be “9/11 babies.” They were also the first generation, and I would include those born up to five years earlier, with little to no memory of 9/11 and its impact on American society. It is the task of teachers and older generations to inform them.
It’s disturbing beyond imagination that podcast influencer Hassan Piker, who has the ear of politicians as well as a huge youth following among gamers on Twitch, has justified the attacks on 9/11 as something America “deserved.” He hangs a blown-up poster of the towers in flames behind him as if it were a glorious act.
I’m a staunch believer in the right to free speech, no matter how much I may disagree with someone. But ought we stand by and hand over interpretations of such a horrific time to someone like Piker? We can still choose to reject those voices, while responding strongly with our own.
Apathy and ignorance won’t keep memory alive.
