Never Forget

It was a Tuesday morning.

I was a young broker at Smith Barney. Not in New York. Not anywhere near New York. But I had just been there in late August for training at our 388 Greenwich headquarters and at the World Trade Center. I spent a lunch break walking around the plaza between the towers.

I was driving to the office when news came over the radio that a plane had hit one of the towers.

I’ll never forget the voice on the radio. I’ll never forget exactly which piece of road I was on.

We weren’t in New York. There was nothing we could do but watch in horror as the attack unfolded on television. I was trying to understand what was happening, then realizing this wasn’t an accident.

I was standing there talking with two other guys in the office when I looked back at the television and saw the first tower begin to crumble.

For a moment, my brain simply couldn’t process it. There was this enormous cloud of dust rolling through the streets, and then it hit me.

“Holy shit. The building is gone. It just fell.”

Unbelievable in the literal sense of the word. I could see it with my own eyes and still couldn’t believe it.

Astonishing. Devastating. Terrifying.

Such an awful day.

And yet, what followed is also something I’ll never forget.

In the days and weeks afterward, Americans grieved. We were angry. We struggled. And somehow, through all of it, we came together.

It was the most patriotic period I have experienced in my lifetime.

American Flags were everywhere. On front porches, businesses, buildings. Many, many more that usual. And the weren’t being flown out of a casual sense of duty. The flags were flying high because we were genuinely proud and united. Everyone took great comfort at the sight of the Stars and Stripes. It was a vivid reminder of how strong We are. We would recover.

I wouldn’t wish another September 11 on anyone, anywhere, for any reason.

Revisiting the site, feeling the absence of the towers, standing beside the memorial fountains that replaced them, and later walking among the individual memorials at the Pentagon is a sobering reminder of the enormity of what was lost that day, and of the individual lives behind numbers that can sometimes become too large to comprehend.

But, I would love to see President George W. Bush standing on the mound at Yankee Stadium, wearing an FDNY jacket, throwing that first pitch again.

I would love to the respect and support of the police, the firefighters, the first responders, the military — of every citizen and every true American.

I would love to see that kind of genuine, widespread love for this country again.

Those of us who were old enough to remember September 11, 2001, remember it in extraordinary detail. From the people who were in Lower Manhattan and Washington D.C. that morning to those of us watching helplessly from hundreds or thousands of miles away, the memories are etched into us.

So today, remember the people who went to work and never came home.

Remember the passengers and crews aboard those airplanes.

Remember the firefighters, police officers, first responders, and ordinary people who ran toward danger when every instinct told them to run away.

Remember those who lost their lives that day. And remember those who gave their lives in rescue, recovery, and rebuilding that followed.

And remember the country we became afterward.

Fly the flag.

Love your country.

Be proud of it.

And never forget.

September 11, 2001.