Pat Donahue

Editor

It’s hard to image we now have entire graduating classes from colleges whose only connection to the day and events of 9/11 is through documentaries.

For many of us, every second of that day remains carved in our conscience, from those first moments of bewilderment and then shock and to a night filled with sadness – and anger. Twenty-five years ago, I was assistant sports editor for the paper in Marietta. I had Mondays and Tuesdays off. I came home every couple of weeks for a couple of things – laundry, for starters, deposit my paycheck, since my company of nearly 200 employees didn’t have direct deposit, and to check in on mom and dad in person.

I was home that morning. Having fallen asleep with the TV on, I woke up and wondered why Peter Jennings was on at around 9 a.m. Dad was up already, prowling around in the kitchen. Mom was still mostly fast asleep.

Then the second tower got hit. I ran into the living room, taking the TV remote control from the old man’s hands. I turned the TV to CNN as dad started asking what I was doing. It became apparent seconds later.

We watched in silence. And in horror. A few minutes later, the phone in the kitchen rang. I picked up and heard my boss’ voice. I said, “I’m on my way,” and grabbed my stuff and jumped in the truck, headed back to Marietta.

I-16 was a lonely, desolate, numbingly long stretch of road back then. That day, it wasn’t I-16 that was abandoned and quiet. Nearly every highway, even the usual rivers of steel that were the lanes of I-75, were forlorn in their solitude.

I got to the office and my boss – then and now a great friend – and I had a quick huddle and called the rest of the guys in our department in. In the interim, my boss had met with the other department heads. He had volunteered our guys to be news writers that day.

We gave the rest of our seven-man department its marching orders and they also offered some great ideas. A couple of them went and interviewed some local high school coaches who were Vietnam veterans to ask them what a lot of young men, and women, might be facing in the days, weeks, months and years to come.

My job was to go to local watering holes and get reactions. I made our post-work hangout last on the list, because I knew that would be the most difficult. The usual night manager, with whom we had become friends, was originally from Connecticut. One of his daughters was an EMT.

In New York City. By the time I got around to asking him anything, I finally summoned up the will to ask if he had heard from his daughter. It was about 6 in the evening at this point. His eyes were red, past the point of bloodshot. He had not. But he had heard from his other daughter, who had been in contact with his EMT daughter. Fortunately, she was off that day.

But a lot of her friends in the police, fire and EMT services responded to the towers. Some of them didn’t make it out.

Throughout the day, we started hearing more about what happened at the Pentagon and started hearing about a plane, Flight 93, that crashed into a Pennsylvania field, its intended target unknown. It was in the days that followed that we learned of one of the great feats of American heroism, how a handful of passengers, alerted to what was happening and knowing they were consigned to death with hijackers in control of the plane, rushed the cockpit and caused the plane to crash instead of striking its target.

Why this happened and what took place in the aftermath are discussions to be had over the ages. We can talk about how a nation seemingly so brittle and fractured now was united in iron resolve in the aftermath of the towers collapsing.

For this day, likely the last significant milestone commemoration in our lifetimes, it’s time to remember the brave souls who either went up hundreds of feet of stairwells or crashed through cockpit doors and the hundreds of innocent victims who perished for no good damn reason whatsoever.

There was a New York City skyline for decades before the World Trade Center. There is one now afterward. Those who wanted to destroy the towers, the Pentagon and whatever else that day didn’t take down America. And we should never forget the innocent victims and the heroes of that day and let that remind us we were not and are not vanquished.