Reflections on 9/11, Twenty Five Years Later

I spent some time this morning reflecting on September 11, 2001, as I have done each year, but this anniversary feels particularly significant because twenty five years is long enough for an event that remains vivid in the memories of some of us to have become history for an entire generation of adults.

I remember where I was that morning, and there is nothing particularly spectacular about it. I was 25 years old and working as the Office Coordinator of the UMBC Upward Bound program. That Tuesday morning began as any other morning, and I remain slightly amazed that I still remember that it was a Tuesday. At the time, I had a friend staying with me who was on medical leave from the Army and approaching the end of her service, and as I came downstairs on my way out the door, I noticed that she was watching a cable news channel and that a large building appeared to be smoking.

I read the news ticker, which at that point offered only speculation that what we were watching was some unfortunate and almost unimaginable accident, and I sat down to watch the coverage. About two minutes later, the second plane struck the World Trade Center, and in that moment it became clear that what we were witnessing was no accident.

There was nothing extraordinary about where I was or what I was doing before I sat down in front of that television. I was simply getting ready to go to work, moving through the ordinary routine of an ordinary Tuesday morning, (and clearly running late if I was at home when the second plane hit at 9:03 ) which may be part of the reason the memory has remained so clear. History doesn’t usually announce that it is coming, and sometimes the moment that divides life into before and after arrives while we are standing in our living rooms, sitting at our desks, or waiting for a class to begin.

Growing up, I remember listening to my elders talk about where they were when major events in history occurred, including the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, and the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Their memories were never simply recitations of facts that I could find in a textbook. They remembered where they were, what they were doing, who told them, how the people around them reacted, and what it felt like to realize that something had changed.

I think it’s just human nature to have these moments imprint. I remember sitting in my fourth grade English language arts class when the Challenger exploded. I remember sitting at my desk at Upward Bound on a Saturday morning, with the television on and watching the shuttle coverage, when Columbia disintegrated during its return to Earth. I remember sitting beside my friend on the morning of September 11 and watching the second plane strike the World Trade Center.

These memories are not important because there was anything remarkable about where I happened to be. They are important because they connect the historical record to a human life, and because remembering where we were helps us remember that history was once the present, unfolding in real time before people who did not yet know how the story would end.

Today, everyone between the ages of 18 and 24 was born after September 11, 2001, and I was struck by a Pew Research Center finding that 60 percent of young adults in that age group first learned about the attacks in a classroom or through schoolwork. For them, September 11 is not a personal memory connected to where they were, who they were with, or what they felt as the events unfolded. It is history.

That distinction matters because history can become a collection of dates, images, and carefully condensed paragraphs unless we make the effort to preserve the people, circumstances, choices, fears, and consequences that give those facts meaning. Those of us who remember September 11 have a responsibility to tell the story, but we also have a responsibility to tell it truthfully, completely, and with enough care that future generations understand not only what happened that morning, but also what happened in the days, months, and years that followed. And the days, months, and years that preceded it.

The attacks changed the lives of countless people, especially those who survived, those who lost family members, friends, and colleagues, and those who committed themselves to defending our country and were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for the ideals of freedom. The consequences did not end when the smoke cleared, because survivors and first responders continue to live with physical and emotional effects, families continue to grieve, and decisions made in response to that day continue to shape public policy, national security, international relationships, and the ways that Americans understand one another.

The phrase “never forget” has become synonymous with several tragedies in our history, but remembering must involve more than recalling the event itself. We must also remember the circumstances that preceded it, the decisions that followed it, the people who were unfairly blamed or treated with suspicion because of their religion or ethnicity, and the ways that fear can be used to divide people who might otherwise recognize their shared humanity.

History becomes especially vulnerable when it is shortened, sanitized, or purposely edited to serve the needs of the present. When we remove the difficult parts, we do not make history easier to understand. We make it easier to repeat.

For me, remembering 9/11 is not only about honoring the nearly 3,000 lives lost that day and the thousands lost since for various reasons related to the attacks . It is also about recommitting ourselves to building a society that values truth, compassion, integrity, justice, and our shared humanity. It is about recognizing how quickly ordinary routines can be disrupted, how easily fear can take root, and how much responsibility each of us carries for what happens after tragedy enters our collective story.

As we pause on this 25th anniversary, I remind myself that memory is not passive, and history is not preserved simply because we promise never to forget. History must be taught, discussed, questioned, protected from distortion, and connected to the choices we make today.

To never forget means that we remember the lives that were lost, listen to the people who are still living with the consequences, tell the truth about what happened, and allow the lessons of history to guide us toward something better.

We remember because history matters, because truth matters, and because what we choose to remember helps determine who we become.