A Memorable Summer Recalled

The summer of 2001 was memorable for many reasons for our family. Our oldest daughter graduated from high school. Both my folks and my wife’s folks celebrated their 50th wedding anniversaries. Those celebrations included family reunions in both Wenatchee (my hometown) and Seaside, Oregon (where my in-laws had honeymooned in 1951).

It was the summer my brother and I traveled to Norway to visit the birthplace of our immigrant grandfather who left home with his four brothers to settle in Seattle. It was also the summer that our family experienced our own personal “Ground Zero” moment a month before September 11th. A much-loved relative was broadsided and killed in a car accident while driving to a committee meeting at her church.

But the climax of the summer of 2001 was that bright and sunny day when a terrorist attack took our national breath away, all the while robbing nearly 3,000 innocent souls of their lives. It is a day etched into our corporate memory we cannot forget. Nor should we.

Those of my generation remember with clarity where they were when they heard of President Kennedy’s assassination. Similarly, millions of Americans can easily recall what they were doing when they learned that the twin towers of the World Trade Center had been toppled. It became a moment when time stood still.

As we then learned of what happened at the Pentagon, we recoiled.  News of the aborted mission that resulted in a deadly plane crash in Pennsylvania fed our angst. In the ensuing hours fear and anxiety crept across the landscape of our country from coast-to-coast. We wondered if there would be subsequent attacks. We wondered if we, in fact, were safe.

In the days that followed, as commercial air travel was suspended, the uncanny silence overhead created a vacuum in which we were better able to hear our private thoughts. We mourned for those whose lives had been snuffed out without warning. We cursed the enemies who had carried off their demonic plot. We praised the first-responders who had run into harm’s way risking their own lives to save those who were the lucky ones. We thanked God we were among them.

That tranquil Tuesday morning on the eleventh day of September and the weeks that followed devolved into a nightmare that continues to haunt our country twenty-five years later. And for good reason. Those who hate our nation have only multiplied in the last quarter-century rendering us vulnerable to history repeating itself.

Still, what happened immediately after 9/11 calls to mind a history I pray would be repeated. At that time, we saw our nation behaving as a family that loves and cares for those in need. Our tendency toward partisanship surrendered to random acts of kindness and concern without need for judgment. We gave each other grace.

On Capitol Hill those divided by political perspectives crossed the aisle to demonstrate a shared patriotism. Harmoniously, Democrats and Republicans stood on the steps of the Capitol singing “God Bless America” in unison. Animalistic instincts often associated with the habits of elephants and donkeys gave way to a shared humanity. We were Americans in need of each other.

And that spirit of humility and kindness extended beyond the monuments of Washington D.C. Churches, mosques and synagogues in every state opened their doors for spontaneous prayer gatherings beyond set days of worship. We recognized our need of a Higher Power when circumstances reminded us of our limitations and tested our faith. We found common religious ground.

On this anniversary of one of the darkest days in our history, it’s my hope that what we recall will not simply be the loss of innocent lives but also the spirit of what animates us when we are at our best... “One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”