Letter from the editor
I remember a time when I had never heard the word “terrorism.” I believed wars were fought between nations’ militaries, far from families and civilians. I remember a time before TSA, Homeland Security and Air Marshalls, when boarding a plane didn’t require my shoes to come off my feet so they could be screened for explosives. It was a different era — one that ended 25 years ago, on Sept. 11, 2001.
Everyone who lived through that day remembers exactly where they were when they learned something terrible was unfolding.
I had just walked into the house when the phone rang.
“Cindy, turn on the news. Something happened,” Bob said. His voice was sober, and I knew it was serious.
By the time I turned on the television, the second plane had struck the South Tower of the World Trade Center. Flames poured from the buildings. People trapped above the impact zones appeared at windows, and some jumped. Firefighters, police officers and other first responders rushed inside, climbing toward danger as thousands tried to escape.
Then, on live television, the South Tower collapsed. News crews and residents ran through Lower Manhattan as a cloud of dust and debris swallowed blocks. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The horror continued. American Airlines Flight 77 struck the Pentagon. United Airlines Flight 93 crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, after passengers and crew members fought back. Then the North Tower fell.
It became very clear that none of this was an accident. America was under attack. In less than two hours, 2,977 people were killed in New York, at the Pentagon and aboard the four planes. Among them were 343 New York City firefighters and 23 New York City police officers.
For countless families, this loss was deeply personal. A husband, wife, parent, child, sibling or friend had gone to work or boarded a flight that morning and never returned.
I nervously picked my children up from school. I wanted to shield them from the images, but that was impossible. For days, every television channel showed the burning towers and their collapse. It was all anyone could think about.
As young children, our kids processed it the only way the could, through play. I remember seeing them build lego towers, then act out a plane crashing into it. They were trying to make sense of something none of us could comprehend.
That Halloween, my son dressed up as a construction worker, inspired by the crews searching the rubble at ground zero for survivors and remains.
The attacks changed daily life. The Federal Aviation Administration grounded air traffic nationwide for the first time in U.S. history. That night as we laid in bed, silently praying, we heard the loud rumble of low-flying military jets overhead, protecting us from this new enemy.
Airport security intensified, the Transportation Security Administration was created, and a new era of heightened alerts and homeland security began. America soon entered wars whose consequences spanned decades.
Years later, we went to the 9/11 Memorial in Manhattan. Standing beside the reflecting pools, where the towers once stood, made the magnitude of the loss feel painfully real.
An entire generation has grown up knowing “terrorism” as a household word. Yet Sept. 11 also taught us about courage, sacrifice and the strength found in unity.
Twenty-five years later, we remember those who were taken, those who ran toward danger and those who still carry the loss.
May God bless them, and may God bless America.
Peace & Love, Cindy
