Twenty-five years. It hardly seems possible that a quarter century has passed since Sept. 11, 2001. And yet, for those of us old enough to remember that day, it can still feel remarkably close.
There are moments in life that divide time into before and after. Moments when someone asks, “Where were you when it happened?” and you do not have to think very long before answering. Sept. 11 is one of those moments for a generation of Americans.
I remember exactly where I was.
I was at the Minden Press-Herald, making a stop on my way to the Bossier Press-Tribune that morning. I was in my dad’s office when he told me a plane had struck the World Trade Center. Like so many others, we initially wondered what terrible accident had occurred. Then we watched the second plane hit. “Is that video from the first crash?” I asked Dad.
“I don’t think so.”
In that instant, everything changed.
I headed toward Bossier City, listening to the radio as reports came in about the Pentagon. My heart was racing. As a newspaper publisher, my mind shifted toward what we needed to do, what we needed to cover and how this national tragedy might touch our community.
We soon learned just how close to home the story would come.
A reader called our office and said Air Force One had been cleared to land at Barksdale Air Force Base. Not long afterward, our receptionist came running into my office.
“It’s here! It’s here!”
I heard the engines overhead and caught a glimpse of the blue underbelly of the president’s 747.
President George W. Bush had come to Barksdale, where he would record remarks to a frightened nation before Air Force One returned to the September sky.
I have told that story before. But on this 25th anniversary, I find myself thinking less about where I was and more about who we were in the days that followed.
We were hurting. We were angry. We were afraid.
But we were also together.
Americans lined up to give blood. Churches filled with people praying. Flags appeared on homes, businesses and highway overpasses. First responders ran toward danger while others ran away. Neighbors checked on neighbors. Strangers helped strangers.
For a moment, the labels that so often separate us seemed much less important than the things we shared.
We were Americans.
That did not mean everyone suddenly agreed on everything. We did not. Unity does not require uniformity.
It means recognizing that some things are bigger than our disagreements.
Twenty-five years later, that may be one of the most important lessons worth remembering.
We live in a time when it can seem easier to identify what divides us than what connects us. Political differences, cultural differences and even disagreements among friends and neighbors can quickly become reasons to see one another as opponents.
Sept. 11 taught us what can happen when all of those differences suddenly become secondary.
The question is, why should it take tragedy to remind us?
Every generation has its “I remember where I was” moments. Some are shared by an entire nation. Others are deeply personal. A phone call from a doctor. The loss of someone we love. A storm, an accident, a birth, a death or some unexpected event that changes the direction of our lives.
Those moments have a way of stripping away everything that does not really matter.
They remind us to say what needs to be said. To make the phone call. To forgive. To show up. To appreciate the people sitting around our table. To understand that tomorrow is never quite as guaranteed as we pretend it is.
The truth is, remembering a life-changing moment is not enough.
We should remember what it taught us.
For me, Sept. 11 carries another layer of remembrance. It was my parents’ anniversary. Since their passing, the date has always held both national and personal meaning.
Maybe that is why, after 25 years, I keep coming back to the same thought.
We cannot change what happened that September morning. We can honor the 2,977 lives lost, remember the courage shown that day and teach generations too young to remember why it mattered.
But perhaps the best way to remember is to recover some of what we learned about ourselves afterward.
We learned that we need one another.
We learned that service matters.
We learned that our differences do not have to become divisions.
And we learned, if only for a while, that we are stronger when we stand together.
Twenty-five years later, America could stand to remember that again.
David Specht is President of Specht Newspapers, Inc.