September 11 Memorial Blog – Twenty Years Later

by Brett Nelson

September 11, 2021

Like most people who were of a certain age on September 11, 2001, I can recall the tragic events of that day almost as though they happened yesterday, yet at the same time it seems surreal that it happened exactly twenty years ago today. The time since then has been so short, yet also so long.

I was in my mid twenties at the time, working as a medical transcriptionist in the Surgical Pathology department at a hospital in Norman, Oklahoma. I rushed to the television in the breakroom when someone came in and said that a plane, American Airlines Flight 11, we would later learn, had crashed into the World Trade Center North Tower in New York City. As someone who’d never ventured outside the tristate area of my little hometown in Arkansas, I had no idea what the World Trade Center even was, but it sounded bad, and my curiosity got the better of me. Several coworkers and I congregated in the little breakroom and experienced, unbeknownst to us at the time, our beloved America seized and wounded by ruthless terrorists.

At the time, we all thought it was a tragic unthinkable accident. That is, until minutes later, we watched in abject horror as on live television, a second plane, United Airlines Flight 175, plowed into the World Trade Center South Tower. Aghast, we witnessed two formidable giants smoldering in the New York skyline against the flawless backdrop of a clear blue sky.

I looked over at my dear friend and coworker, Glenda. Her face was etched with shock and confusion and disbelief, expressions that my face also reflected, I have no doubt, because those were the feelings that lurked deep down inside me. How could such an atrocity happen?

We as a nation held our collective breaths as broadcasters on every television station uttered some variation of these unforgettable words: “What we’ve witnessed today are deliberate acts of terrorism. Somebody has declared war on America.”

I went back to my desk as tears stung my eyes to resume the impossible task of focusing on work, but every few minutes I found myself meandering back to the television to see if there were answers to the questions every person in America asked: “Who did this and why?” Of course, no answers to that question would come for some time, though I seem to recall in the days that passed some speculating various terrorist groups in the middle east as the guilty culprit. Some news organizations mentioned Al-Qaeda, among others, and being the not-so-worldly young man I was, I had never heard of Al-Qaeda.

It was later reported that some Al-Qaeda terrorists had lived in the United States for more than a year as enemies in hiding, blending into our culture while taking flying lessons at American commercial flying schools sprinkled around the country. Others crept in one-by-one in the months leading up to 9/11. I imagine they mocked and reveled in the fact that the enemy had successfully infiltrated the American camp, yet not a single American was wise to their evil plans.

One flight instructor lamented that one of the terrorists had chosen his flight school to train for his impending ominous and deadly mission. He recalled a time when the terrorist-in-training screamed at him in anger because he wasn’t interested in learning to land a plane, but only to fly it. Not understanding the man’s intention of shedding innocent blood on American soil, he told the guy that if he wanted to learn to fly a plane, he had to learn to land one.

After 9/11, upon seeing a picture of the terrorist whom he recognized as one of his students, the flight instructor grieved that the man not wanting to learn to land a plane should have been a red flag, but who could have known such malignant character lurked inside the human shell of an otherwise normal-looking person?

My mind was in such a fog on 9/11/2001, not only on that day but also on the days that followed. It was such an evil act and my mind couldn’t comprehend it. “Why” was the question of the day, the week, the month.

My mind spun with a cyclone of thoughts. The victims of those senseless attacks went home from work yesterday and cooked dinner for their family…for last time. They mowed their lawn…for the last time. They called to check on their parents…for the last time. They watched their favorite television show…for the last time. They yelled at the dog for barking too much…for the last time. They paid their bills…for the last time. They played with their children and wrestled them into bed…for the last time. They hugged their husband or wife goodnight…for the last time. The single people nestled into their empty beds and dreamed of the day when their bed wouldn’t feel so lonely…for the last time. They experienced so many “last times,” and they didn’t even know it. If they had known what was coming the next day, what would they have done differently the night before? Maybe hugged their kids a little tighter? Maybe talked to their parents for a little longer? Maybe turned off the television and cuddled with their significant other for a few extra precious minutes? Maybe called up that friend they loved with all their hearts but were mad at, to make amends?

Two planes had flown into skyscrapers in one of the biggest cities in America, and we didn’t think anything worse could ever happen again, until we all heard that American Airlines Flight 77 had flown into the Pentagon. By this time, all our minds pounded the same question over and over: “Would it happen again and where?”

To our despair, it indeed happened again, but this time the passengers of United Airlines Flight 93 had heard about the previous hijackings and did something extraordinary. They banded together and stood against the hijackers. They fought back.

It was thought that this plane was headed toward the White House or the Capital building in Washington, DC, and these brave passengers–heros, really–would fight to the very end of their lives to assure the plane didn’t make it to the intended destination. They smashed their way through the cockpit door, presumably using a metal cart as a makeshift battering ram, and valiantly tried to steal control of the aircraft from the hijackers. They fought with any and all items they could find to brandish as weapons: pitchers of boiling water to throw in hijackers faces, butter knives and forks from the galley, and fire extinguishers. Their struggles resulted in the plane plummeting to the ground at a staggering, earth shaking, nearly 600 miles per hour into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. The field today is dubbed as, “A common field one day, a field of honor forever.”

September 11, 2001 was a very dark day in American history. Nineteen hijackers united in a murderous suicide pact. In total, 2,977 precious people died, and more than 6,000 were injured. Human lives were lost on that day, but the human spirit soared higher than than ever.

My real intent in sharing this blog was something I saw in a documentary this past week, and I wanted to share it because it warmed my heart. The documentary was about the 9/11 Memorials in New York City. The place where the North Tower and South Tower stood twenty years ago now contain memorials to those who died that day. Each of the memorials, standing on the original World Trade Center foundations, are lined by more than four hundred Swamp Oak Trees (see pictures of the memorial and trees at the top of this blog post.) This specific tree type was selected because organizers wanted the trees within the memorial to be native to the area, and they also wanted trees that would look nice in all four seasons of the year. It was of utmost importance that the trees be sourced from the areas where lives were lost, so all the trees were collected from New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC.

One thing I found interesting about this is that there were only so many Swamp Oak Trees available in the nurseries in these three areas, so they eventually canvassed people’s private homes in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC, asking people to donate Swamp Oak Trees from their yards. As crazy as the notion of moving trees sounded, I imagine people were more than proud to allow their trees to be dug up, shipped away, and placed proudly in display at the memorial site.

Another beautiful thing I learned about the memorial site pertains to yet another special tree, this one not a Swamp Oak, but a Callery Pear tree, lovingly dubbed, “The 9/11 Survivor Tree.” The tree is special because it was found in the rubble of the World Trade Center as they performed the clean-up at Ground Zero. The tree was charred and broken down, but it miraculously survived the terrorist attack.

The “Survivor Tree” could have easily been tossed away as yet another unsuspecting victim of 9/11, but it was removed from the rubble and taken to a local nursery where it was nursed to health and eventually returned to it’s rightful home at the memorial site at Trade Center Plaza. There it still stands today, a regal and poignant reminder of the resilient spirit of not only a city but also a global community that transcended the atrocious events that transpired on that fateful day in 2001. Events meant to kill and destroy stirred up the American patriotism in every man and woman that witnessed it.

Not only were they able to regrow the tree, they also took cuttings from it and grew saplings, and these saplings are reserved for a special purpose. Whenever there are terrorist events/attacks anywhere around the world, the United States sends a sapling to that location. A gift of love and peace, of encouragement and unity, from one survivor of tragedy to another–a promise that though it may not look like it now, beauty will once again rise from the ashes of hatred and intolerance.

I’m not exactly sure why this story about trees touched my heart in so indelible of a manner, but to me it’s a firm testament of surviving the unthinkable, of a nation setting aside their differences and coming together in a time of national tragedy, of binding together for the common good. It’s a story of resiliency and coming back stronger than ever, with the ugly battle scars to prove it.

Twenty years later, our world is sadly divided in many ways, and I don’t know, maybe it always has been in one way or another. Regardless of what life throws our way, though, we will always look to September 11, 2001 and remember those who walked out their doors one final time, never to return to their place of refuge and to the ones who loved them above all others.

To our fallen brothers and sisters of 9/11…

To the wounded who survived…

To the brave emergency services personnel who rushed in as everyone else rushed out…

To “man’s best friend,” the service animals who lived and the ones who died…

To the 9-1-1 operators who took one panicked call after another…

To the families who lost the people that meant everything to them…

We honor you all. We will never forget.

Brett Nelson – http://www.brettnelson-author.com