Where Were You That Tuesday Morning – September 11, 2001
By Andrew Lewis
Twenty-five years ago today, America changed forever.
Like so many Americans, I remember exactly where I was.
I was a homeschool student, growing up on our family farm in Perry County, Pennsylvania. That Tuesday morning, I was busy finishing my schoolwork when my sister called and told us that something terrible was happening in New York City.
We turned on the radio because we didn’t have a television. And then we listened.
We listened to reports of smoke pouring from the World Trade Center. We listened in disbelief as the day unfolded. We listened as the towers fell. What we heard was almost impossible to comprehend.
I remember September 11, 2001, as one of the darkest and saddest days of my life.
That Sunday, our family went to church. We prayed for our country. We prayed for the families who had lost loved ones. We prayed for the firefighters, police officers, first responders, and so many others whose lives had been shattered in the span of a few hours.
There were a lot of tears.
A Man Named Jun
Little did we know that this tragedy, which occurred 200 miles away from our little farm, hit home closer than we initially realized.
Before the attacks, we traveled around the country to raise support for our family’s planned long-term mission work in Central America. During those travels, we visited a large church in New Jersey where a young father and Korean immigrant named Jun warmly welcomed us. Jun spent time with our family. He shared his stories about life in Korea and his new life in America. He taught us Korean. He was kind to a family of strangers passing through his church.
And Jun worked at the World Trade Center.
On September 11, he went to work. He never came home.
Jun was one of 2,977 people killed that morning.
It’s easy, after 25 years, for a number like that to become a statistic in a history book. But those 2,977 people had names. They had families. They had children who waited for them to come home. They had plans for the next weekend and dreams for the next decade. They had people who loved them. One of those names was Jun.
I think about that today.
The Days That Followed
I also think about what happened to our country in the days and months that followed.
As my family continued traveling after the attacks, I vividly remember walking through the airport and seeing National Guard soldiers standing guard. They wore camouflage uniforms. They carried M16 rifles. For a young man who had grown up in rural Pennsylvania, it was a striking sight.
Something had changed.
We knew America was entering a different era. We didn’t know yet how long it would last, where it would take us, or what it would cost.
But we also witnessed something else in those days: America came together. The day after the attacks, there weren’t two Americas. There was one.
People proudly flew flags outside their homes. Strangers helped strangers. Churches opened their doors to those in need. Americans lined up to give blood. First responders worked around the clock. People hugged their kids a little tighter.
The One Word that Defines America
Our disagreements didn’t disappear. But for a moment, they seemed much smaller than the things that united us. We remembered who we were.
And we remembered what America stands for: freedom.
That word can become so familiar that we forget just how extraordinary the idea behind it really is. Human beings should be free. Free to pursue a purpose. Free to develop their gifts. Free to work, build, and create. Free to worship. Free to raise a family. Free to pursue their potential and become who they were created to be. For 250 years, that promise has served as the foundation of our nation’s story.
And on September 11, 2001, that promise came under attack.
What followed was a generation of Americans who answered the call. Firefighters climbed stairwells while others were desperately trying to get down. Police officers and first responders ran toward danger. Ordinary citizens performed extraordinary acts of courage.
Passengers aboard Flight 93 learned what was happening, made a decision, and fought back. Their final act of courage unfolded right here in Pennsylvania.
And in the months and years that followed, young Americans from every corner of the country raised their hands and volunteered to serve.
Eventually, I was honored to be one of them.
I enlisted in the United States Army in a combat-arms role and later spent 15 months deployed in the Middle East.
When I think back on that chapter of my life, I remember the people beside me most. Young men and women from every imaginable background. Different hometowns. Different accents. Different races. Different religions. Different politics. It didn’t matter. We wore the same uniform. We served the same country.
And we trusted one another with our lives.
I had the privilege of serving alongside men and women who represented the very best of America. They were part of a generation that came of age in the shadow of September 11. Some came home with wounds that could be seen. Others came home carrying wounds that others couldn’t see. And some never came home at all.
We Must Remember
Today, 25 years after the attacks that set so much of that history in motion, I find myself thinking about what remembrance requires of us.
“Never forget” has been repeated so often over the past quarter-century that it can almost become another slogan.
But remembering is not a mantra; it’s an obligation.
We must remember the people whose ordinary Tuesday morning became their last.
We must remember Jun and the thousands of others whose families never saw them walk through the door again.
We must remember the firefighters who heroically climbed those stairs.
We must remember the police officers, paramedics, and first responders who ran toward scenes everyone else was fleeing.
We must remember the passengers and crew of Flight 93.
We must remember the men and women who sifted through the rubble.
We must remember the military families who said goodbye at airports and kitchen tables in the years that followed.
We must remember those who served.
And we must remember those who never returned.
But 25 years later, we should remember something else, too.
We should remember September 12.
We should remember what it felt like to look at the person beside us and see an American before seeing anything else. We should remember that, beneath all our arguments and disagreements, we share an extraordinary inheritance.
We live in a country founded on the belief that people should be free.
Generations before us paid an enormous price for that inheritance. And in each generation, Americans have been asked to decide whether it is still worth defending.
Twenty-five years ago, we saw the answer.
We saw it in New York. We saw it at the Pentagon. We saw it in a field outside Shanksville, Pennsylvania. We saw it in firehouses and police stations. We saw it in churches and neighborhoods. And in the years that followed, I saw it in the faces of the men and women I had the privilege to serve beside.
Today, a generation of young Americans is growing up with no memory of September 11.
For them, 9/11 is history. For many of us, it is memory.
And perhaps that gives those of us who remember a special responsibility. We have to tell the stories. Tell them about the towers. Tell them about the Pentagon. Tell them about Flight 93. Tell them about the firefighters who climbed the stairs. Tell them about the ordinary Americans who discovered extraordinary courage when their country needed them.
Tell them about the young men and women who stepped forward afterward to serve.
And tell them about people like Jun.
Not simply because of how they died. But because of how they lived.
Because before Jun became one of the victims of September 11, he was a young father. An immigrant. A man building a life in America. A man who took time to welcome a family of strangers and teach some curious kids about his language and his heritage.
That’s worth remembering. Twenty-five years later, may we remember the lives that were taken from us. May we honor those who ran toward danger. May we remain grateful for those who answered the call to serve. May we teach another generation what happened that September morning.
And may we never take for granted the freedom so many have sacrificed to defend.
Today, there is nothing to ask of you.
Only this: Remember them. Remember what they gave. Remember what binds us together.
And never forget.
Forward,
Andrew Lewis
President and CEO
Commonwealth Foundation
Make a seamless and secure gift today to increase prosperity for all Pennsylvanians.
