Today is the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. To commemorate it, Ocean State Stories asked a selection of Rhode Islanders to reflect on that day. They were free to respond to any or all of the following questions, and to add other observations:
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
— What are your thoughts today?
Here’s what they said.
Kelli J. Armstrong, President of Salve Regina University
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I learned of the attacks when I was driving in my car on the way to a meeting with colleagues from multiple institutions. Along the drive, the account of the event unfolded, first sounding like an unfortunate plane accident and then with the onset of the second plane, clearly an act of aggression. I remember arriving at the event stunned, and after sharing what little information we had with one another, we canceled the meeting on the spot. I drove directly home, and my husband and I traveled soon after to pick up our kids at school, feeling a strong need to keep them close by. From that moment on, we were all glued to the news as the tragedy unfolded.
In the early days that followed, I remember seeing American flags flown or displayed at almost every house in town. Prior to 9/11, a few houses displayed flags, but it was less common. People were searching for a way to express their support for the victims and the flags became an important symbol of unity. We lived just a few blocks away from our parish church, and the pews were packed at all hours of the day and night as people needed a place to pray and to mourn together.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
“Most often with a prayer service or a moment of reflection. About a decade after 9/11 we traveled with our sons to the memorial at NYC as it felt important to visit the site. The memorial was haunting, especially viewing the artifacts from all of the individuals lost in the tragedy.”
— What are your thoughts today?
It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed, and I think about the lives forever changed directly by the events – the victims themselves, their families and loved ones, and the first responders who will carry those images with them always. As awful as that period was in our history, our country felt completely unified for a brief moment in time. These days, with so much division, it is hard to imagine this unity, but I think 9/11 demonstrated that when we are deeply threatened as a nation, and we experience a tragic loss, Americans step up in profound ways to support one another. The stories of sacrifice and the ways in which the victims were honored, and continue to be honored, give me hope that this connection to one another as Americans is always possible.
Dr. Omar Bah, founder and former Executive Director of the Refugee Dream Center
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Over the years, I have marked this anniversary by reflecting on the pain that was caused and the magnitude of the loss of many lives. Each year since 9/11, I reminisce about the national tragedy – what could have been of the lives of those lost, the sacred peace that was broken, yet our nation has emerged stronger as a society. Thus, each year, I am reminded of the collective kindness that emerged from the tragedy and of how we, as a people, have united in standing with each other.
— What are your thoughts today?
I pray for the souls of the victims of 9/11. I also thank the first responders and all those who stepped in to make a positive difference that day. My thoughts are with the families and friends of the many victims of that day.
I urge everyone in our nation to use this occasion as a reminder that there have been painful moments in our history, yet we have shown unity, strength, resilience, and kindness to each other. Therefore, let’s continue to be kind to each other regardless of race and/or politics.
Alison Croke, President and CEO, Wood River Health
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I will never forget where I was that day. It was a Tuesday and the weather was beautiful. I was living/working about an hour from NYC in the Princeton New Jersey area at the time. I had also been in NYC two days earlier to see the Red Sox play the Yankees. That morning we were in a weekly staff meeting, and someone came in to interrupt us with the news. We had one TV in the office and initially did not truly understand the extent of the attack. Then we watched the second plane hit the Tower. We all went home to be with family and friends. The cell towers were down so my family in Rhode Island was unable to reach me.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Each year I am grateful that we have not been seriously attacked since then. I hope to get to the memorial site one day.
— What are your thoughts today?
Before Americans truly understand who attacked us and why, there was significant backlash and hatred toward the Muslim community. There is a large Muslim/middle eastern community in New Jersey, many of whom were small business owners. I remember driving by businesses owned by people of middle eastern descent and they had signs in front that said “We Love America – please continue to do business with us.” I think there are similarities to some of the ethnic intolerance we still experience today toward certain communities.
Living so close to NYC at the time, I had many friends and colleagues who were personally impacted by this tragedy. People who lost friends or relatives either on the planes or in the Towers, or were first responders. I spoke with people who fled the city on foot that day because there was no other way to get out. To this day they avoid large crowds and gatherings. There is now a generation of people who grew up without this memory because they were not alive at the time it happened, or they were too young to understand. I think it is important to remember those that perished and those that survived, and to be grateful for the first responders who were there that day, and are there every day for our communities.
Xue Di, author of six full-length books and a two-time recipient of the Hellman/Hammett Award.
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I was at work that day. When I arrived at the office, everyone was anxiously and shockingly talking about the attack on the Twin Towers in New York and their collapse. One of my colleagues told me, “America has been attacked.” I stood there stunned—confused, bewildered, and unable to find words.
—As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Every year, when the anniversary comes around, I feel a pang in my heart and a deep sense of sorrow. I think of all those innocent lives lost; before my eyes are the floors collapsing one after another, the ruins still billowing with smoke. I write poems to commemorate this day—to offer solace to the departed and blessings to those who remain.
— What are your thoughts today?
Violence is a reality we must face, though I pray that we will never have to encounter it. May peace and safety embrace the earth, and may those around us be people who carry kindness in their hearts.
The House Without Nimbus
By Xue Di
The leaves are still turning yellow,
the most stubborn ones still holding on.
In the distant city, wreaths,
crowds still gathering in the cold.
Memory and terror, in the remains
of the iron framework, giving off yellow smoke;
in our daily lives,
the strong smell of sulfur everywhere.
Nimbus’s weakened paws
rest on the marble curving inward;
we hear the wind outside the window,
behind the open door, an image of suffering.
The world has changed since then:
charred names, names lost,
make the last of the happy
experience suffering. More of the weak are caught in it;
more violence,
more hatred.
Hunger is here, right here,
in Nimbus’s stomach, destroyed by drugs;
a little farther away, in the stomachs
of those who have no country,
there is only faith,
poverty, despair.
The last time we saw Nimbus,
what we remembered was her knowing gaze.
The house is empty. The woman of the house,
like those who live in great cities,
has known the pain of “loss,”
has felt the loneliness with its details.
The leaves whirl rapidly
along the one-way street.
The first autumn of the new century,
the most stubborn ones still holding on.
失去 Nimbus 的房子雪迪
树叶还在变黄，
最倔强的仍在坚持。
远处的城市，花圈
人流仍在寒冷中汇集。
记忆和恐怖，在残存的铁架子中，冒着黄烟；
在我们的日常生活中弥满着强烈的硫磺味。
Nimbus 虚弱的爪子
架在向里弯转的大理石上；
我们听见窗外的风声，在打开的门后
是一幅受难的图像。
世界从此改变了：
被烧焦、丢失的名字使最后一群幸福的人
体会苦难。更多的弱者被牵连；更多的暴力，仇恨。
饥饿，就在这儿，就在
Nimbus 被药物毁掉的胃里；
稍远一点，在那些
没有祖国的人群的胃里，
只有信仰、贫穷、绝望。最后看见 Nimbus，
记住的是她知命的眼神。房子空了。女主人
像那些住在大城市的人，经历“失去”的痛苦；
感受带细节的孤独。
树叶在单行道上飞快地旋转。
新世纪的第一个秋天，最倔强的仍在坚持。
Dawn Dove and Eleanor Dove Harris, Narragansett/Niantic tribal members
— Where were you on September 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
Eleanor: I remember that day like it was yesterday, it is hard to believe that so many years have passed since. I was a new mom, home with my 15-month-old baby, herenté. I was folding laundry in the living room while the Today Show played in the background (as it did most every morning). You had already left for school, we lived together in Charlestown at that time, and had been gone for well over an hour. The day was pretty typical, it was sunny outside, truly a beautiful day. I had my first night of classes for the fall semester scheduled to start that evening at URI’s night campus in the Shepard Building in Providence and would spend the remainder of my day home caring for Sherenté and tending to the house while my husband (Thawn) and you were at work. Of course, you working just down the road at Chariho High School would home well before Thawn, who at the time worked for the Narragansett Indian Tribe as an Environmental Police Officer and didn’t get out of work until 4:30pm, but Chariho let out at 1:45pm, so Sherenté and I were used to seeing you every day.
Thawn actually called me and told me to look at the TV, he shared that a plane had crashed into a building in NYC. I remember standing in front of the TV in absolute disbelief, watching the smoke plume from the building. I remember that the news reporters were speculating about what had happened, thinking it was a horrible accident, none of us could have imagined the truth of it all. I was actually watching the Today Show as the second plane hit the other World Trade Center building. It was in that moment that we all knew that the world, as we knew it, had been changed forever. I can’t recall at what point I called you, I just know that my first instinct was to call my mom. I imagine that no matter how old we get, our first instinct is always to call mom. Do you remember that phone call Ma?
Dawn: Absolutely- my first thoughts were about the proximity we were between Newport Naval Academy and General Dynamics in Groton. Also the fact that your sister was at work in Newport. The fear ran down my back. I was thinking if that was a prelude to a full attack on the East Coast what would we do? Also, I was in my classroom. Do I share this info with them? Do I have to keep it quiet, what would the Administration want me to do? In addition the school had a strict policy of no cell phone use even for the faculty.
Eleanor: I actually thought about that when I called you, I knew that you were not allowed to use your phone at school. As the minutes passed and the story continued to unfold, I would continuously update you. From watching as the news shared that the Pentagon had been hit to watching the first tower fall to the ground, I can still remember the chills that swept through my body, to the plane crashing in the field (and, later learning of the heroism of those men and women on board), to watching the first tower that was hit and collapsed to the ground, all live on tv, while the rest of the world likely watched on with me, we were all frozen in time and space. That night I chose not to attend my first day of classes, I was too afraid to.
In an instant, my family became patriotic, as Indigenous People, proud members of the Narragansett Tribe, we have been proud of our relatives that have served our nation, we are proud to be dual citizens of the USA and our Tribal Nation, however I do not think any of us ever thought of ourselves as “patriotic” . Sure, we enjoyed a good parade, having a cookout on Memorial Day, or watching the fireworks on the 4th, but that was the extent of our patriotism. But, on that day, something
shifted, I bought my first American Flag (they were sold out EVERYWHERE, finding a small one was hard to do post 9/11) and hung it on my car (as so many others did), my husband who never wanted any part of the military seriously considered joining the army, and as many Americans did, we lit candles in our windows and on our doorsteps to remember the lives lost.
Ma, what do you remember about how the rest of the day unfolded, do you remember coming home or what we talked about as a family?
Dawn: I couldn’t wait to get home to be with my family. I know I was mesmerized by the TV. Everything is a blur to me when I think of that time, I was in shock.
I remember that all planes were blocked from flying in the skies. It seemed we were heading into World War III. Then I remember seeing on television so many people walking away from the demolished city. My niece worked in Manhattan and she walked all the way home over the Brooklyn bridge. The view of the thousands of people walking over the bridge in a gray haze was horrifying. Yet thankful they had survived.
— As the years passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Eleanor: I followed in my mother’s (and for that matter, my father and sister’s) footsteps and went on to become a teacher, graduating from the University of Rhode Island in 2006 (welcoming another baby, Nkéke in 2003…followed by 4 more afterwards). As a Social Studies teacher I have always marked the anniversary with a belief that it is my duty to teach my students about what happened on that Tragic day, that I stood witness to, the stories are a vital part of our histories, ones that need to be remembered. Today, I am in my 20th year as a teacher and the students I teach at the Metropolitan Regional Career and Technical Center located in Newport, RI were not even born on 9/11/01- my current sophomores were born in 2010- they were truly born in the shadow of that day, the lives they are living are all as a direct result of how our world changed, and they do not even know it. Ma, what do you think about when the anniversary comes about? You’ve been retired for 20 or more years, I would imagine, so your experience is different now.
Dawn: I like to listen to the roll call of names to honor the dead.
Cindy Elder, author
— Where were you on September 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; what was your initial reaction?
“If there’s ever a major catastrophe, you’ll have to call me, because I’ll never hear about it,” I told Bob one morning as he headed off to work. The only television I listened to was Teletubbies and Blues Clues. I plugged Raffi into the car’s cassette player, and we jammed to “Shake My Sillies Out.” Our library trips netted baskets of books, each of which was devoured and replaced. My family gave us books for every occasion. Our shelves swelled with board books, picture books, folklore, children’s rhymes.
Emily and Elizabeth [Elder’s children] played library at home, mimicking the story hour that had become a weekly ritual. They removed every book from the shelf and arranged them across the living room carpet, a flotilla of books standing on their spines. Emily was the librarian. Elizabeth picked the book. They sat on the couch, not a sliver of air between them, turning pages, while Emily made up a story to go with the pictures.
For someone who had once made my living reporting the news, I was as far from world events as I’d ever been. I was focused on the milestone in our life bearing down on us: Emily’s first day of preschool.
The only struggle we had as we prepared for that first morning of school was socks. Emily hated socks. I sent her in sandals to avert a crisis. As Village Nursery School came into view, I worried. Would she adjust to the new environment? Would she cry and refuse to enter? Would I cry?
I absolutely will not cry, I told myself.
“Look at all the bright colors,” I said as we walked into the school, Emily in one hand, Elizabeth in the other. “Look at all the letters on the wall.”
Emily disappeared into the classroom, turning her back on me as she moved toward the standing sandbox.
“It’s okay, mom,” the teacher said. “Give her a hug and pick her up at noon.”
I squeezed Emily’s shoulders and walked out the door. On the way home, I let a few tears slide down my cheeks, unseen by Elizabeth in the backseat.
We had made it to our first day of school. It was Monday, September 11, 2001.
The phone rang.
“Hey Babe,” Bob said. “Have you seen the news?”
“News? What news?”
Two planes had struck the Twin Towers in New York City, he said, in a voice that gave away his effort to sound calm. A third plane had crashed into the Pentagon. It appeared the United States was under attack.
“Emily,” was all I could say. “Emily, I have to pick up Emily.” Elizabeth and I drove to the school and walked to the classroom, where teachers handed off our children, congratulating them on a good first day. Emily was too young to tell time, too young to know her day had been cut short.
I learned later that Emily’s teacher had a brother working in the Towers. She had smiled and carried on, like a soldier.
Bob arrived home before noon. We huddled in the orchard, holding our family close as the skies went quiet. I had never noticed before how many planes flew overhead. With every flight grounded, the bird song was deafening.
In the days following September eleventh, American flags appeared on every mailbox in our small rural town. My explanation to the children barely touched the truth: “Somebody tried to hurt our country and it’s our way of showing we love each other.”
The Unitarian Church took a more direct approach. We had dabbled in church going after the children were born and had settled on the Unitarians as the least threatening. During the children’s moment, the pastor asked the little ones to gather around her. She set two toy buildings on the floor next to her chair. She held two toy planes. She crashed them into the buildings. The Towers fell. The parents looked on in horror. The lesson drew confused stares from the children.
On my morning walks, silent skies challenged me to do something. Thousands of people had died. First responders were digging through the rubble. The Red Cross pleaded for help. What did I have to give? All I had was a basement full of applesauce.
Applesauce. I didn’t just have applesauce. I had about twenty apple crisps in my freezer, for no particular reason. I had been processing apples blindly without a plan to use the finished product. There were still ripe apples on the trees, more than we needed.
I advertised The Yard and Bake Sale in The Harvard Post’s classifieds. The children helped display our jarred goods and decorated my signs for apple pies and crisps. They added baby toys and clothes to the growing collection of used items for the sale.
Friends and neighbors stopped in for a cup of cider and a chat. We offered apples for five dollars a bag. Most people in our town didn’t need apples. They had their own. People we didn’t even know gave us twenty dollars a bag and thanked us for the chance. They bought applesauce, apple jelly, apple crisp. We raised one thousand dollars for the Red Cross, a drop in the bucket, but it was our drop.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary? What are your thoughts today?
I’ve never lost the awareness that life, as we understand it, can come crashing to an end in a heartbeat. In that moment of clarity, trivial concerns fall away. All that matters is keeping our loved ones safe, caring for our neighbors, and doing what’s necessary to help those around us carry on.
Every September 11th, I reflect on the fortitude of Emily’s teacher who stifled her own terror for her brother in the Towers to give her students a feeling of safety. I think about our neighbors who helped us raise money for the Red Cross. There are heroes everywhere in our life, in the most unlikely places. We just need to open our eyes and see them.
Tim Gray, filmmaker and founder, World War II Foundation
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I was brushing my teeth and preparing for work as a sports anchor and reporter at NBC 10 in Providence when the first plane struck the North Tower. At first, I thought it was an accident. By the time I arrived at WJAR, the second plane had hit, and it was clear America was under attack.
We watched the station’s monitors as the events unfolded—from the World Trade Center to the Pentagon and Shanksville. Everyone was stunned, but we also had to focus on covering a story that kept getting worse.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Each year, my family and I watch documentaries about 9/11. It has become similar to remembering Pearl Harbor—hearing the stories of witnesses and survivors, many of whom are no longer with us.
Both attacks used airplanes to strike America, exposed failures in intelligence and communication, and drew the nation into war. I also remember an NBC analyst noting that the hijacked planes, loaded with fuel, had become flying bombs—much like the kamikazes of World War II.
— What are your thoughts today?
It can happen again if we are not vigilant. Government agencies must share information, communicate about potential threats and take every warning seriously.
I also wonder why it takes an attack to unite us. On December 7, 1941, and September 11, 2001, there were no Democrats or Republicans—only Americans working together to defend the nation and democracy.
— Anything else you would like to add?
September 11 brought shock, disbelief and fear—but also tremendous resolve. History rhymes: the enemy and technology were different from Pearl Harbor, but many of the lessons were the same.
We must remember both attacks, learn from them and teach future generations about them. Days like September 11 remind us what truly matters in life, although those lessons unfortunately tend to fade with time.
Tommy Hardiman, businessman and heart transplant advocate
I remember 9/11 like it was yesterday. I was watching the Today show and they broke in with a news bulletin and said a plane just crashed into the Trade Center. So they went live to the Trade Center, and while the cameras were rolling, I saw the second plane hit the Trade Center.
I could not believe this was happening. Then it came out it was a terror attack. You would think: how can this happen in the United States? You then realize we are vulnerable and must remain vigilant to protect the U.S.
As years passed, I always remember that day. In fact, I just put out a new American flag two weeks ago. I will never forget. One other event I will never forget is when JFK was assassinated. I was in 4th grade and they brought us to the auditorium. Both of those events always resonate together.
My thought today is we live in a very troubled world. The last two years, I have been going back and forth to Ireland, living there and here. So I get to see more of what our world looks like and the struggles in Europe. I pray to God things can change.
Peter Johnson, author and Providence College professor emeritus
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I was teaching at Providence and was on my way to class. As I walked by the Learning Assistant Center, I saw a colleague staring at a TV bolted high onto a wall, and that’s when I noticed that one of the two towers was aflame. Then shortly after I entered the room, the second plane hit. There wasn’t much I could do but collapse onto a chair, though only for a moment, because I knew students were waiting for me, and that they’d want to watch it on the classroom TV or get permission to return to their dorms and call their parents.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Sometimes I would write a poem, but I soon realized that September 11 had so many emotional and visual resonances that anything I might write would never do justice to the horror of it all.
— What are your thoughts today?
My thoughts turn to how little we have learned from it, especially over the last ten years when there is so much unnecessary nonsense—almost a daily tsunami of nuttiness—coming from Washington, coupled with the constant barrage from “influencers” on the Internet, so that we often get so overwhelmed by this cacophony that we have little time or desire to commemorate the death of a loved one, much the less the deaths of people we don’t know. Also, I ask myself, “How could we ever have entered another unnecessary war in that region, thus tempting the fates again?”
— Is there anything you want to add?
I would add that 911 had many aftershocks for many individuals. In my case, a high school classmate at Canisius High School in Buffalo, N.Y., named Sean Rooney, was one of the first to die after he had reached the 105th floor trying to make it to the roof until the first tower collapsed on him. Afterwards, his devoted wife, Beverly Eckert, became an activist and advocate for a 9/11 committee, because she needed to discover what lapses were responsible for the death of her husband. In 2009, when Beverly was travelling to Buffalo to see family and celebrate what would have been Sean’s 58th birthday and to inaugurate a scholarship at CHS named after Sean, the plane she was flying in crashed just outside the Buffalo airport and she was killed. Try to wrap your head around that sick coincidence. In short, 9/11 was indeed a national tragedy, but, in Sean’s and Beverly’s case, it also raised many theological and existential questions that still reverberate for me today.
Pam Johnston, President and CEO, Ocean State Media
It was a gorgeous September morning in Boston. The sky was bright blue, the sun was shining, and I was on the floor playing Matchbox cars with my little boy, who was weeks away from turning one year old. I was the assistant news director at WLVI-TV in Boston at the time, a job that meant my phone rang constantly. But that morning was quiet. Just me, Sammy, and the cars on the carpet.
Then my husband came down the stairs slowly. He looked shaken.
“Turn on the television,” he said. “Something’s going on. It’s bad.”
We turned on the Today Show and watched Matt Lauer and Katie Couric try to make sense of what was happening. A plane had just hit the Twin Towers in New York and smoke was billowing from the side of the building. It was mind-boggling. Early reports suggested it might’ve been an accident.
Then we watched a second plane hit the second tower. Live on television.
I remember my stomach dropping and a strange stillness filling the room. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew it was no accident.
Within minutes, we learned that both planes had taken off from Logan Airport. I called my news director, Greg Caputo, and for a moment neither of us spoke, we just sat in silence trying to absorb something too big to comprehend. Then we began making coverage plans: sending crews to New York, tracking down local connections, trying to understand a story that was unfolding fast.
Next, I called my sister who worked in the John Hancock tower, the tallest building in Boston, and told her to leave work and get out of the city, fast.
When I hung up, the house went quiet again. I packed an overnight bag and prepared to head into work.
Before I left, I kissed my husband and baby goodbye. I remember looking at my son and thinking something that has stayed with me: I’m not exactly sure what’s happening right now, but it’s historic, and it’s something Sam will learn about in school one day.
The drive from my house in the Metrowest suburbs into Boston was eerie. Traffic was streaming out of the city, and mine was the only car heading in. I remember holding my breath as I drove into the Prudential Tunnel, thinking, I hope Boston isn’t the next target.
I made it to the station safely and didn’t leave for the next few days. The monitors never went dark. A wall of screens played the same unbearable footage on a loop all day, every day. The phones never stopped ringing. Our team worked around the clock. We were doing what journalists do in moments of crisis: trying to separate fact from fear and help our community understand what was happening, even as we were still trying to make sense of it ourselves.
Still, as I think back to September 11, 2001, today, I don’t remember the news or the newsroom first.
I remember that beautiful blue sky. I remember the Matchbox cars scattered across the family room floor. I remember kissing my husband and baby goodbye and driving toward a city everyone else was fleeing.
Twenty-five years later, my son is grown. He has no memory of that day. But I can still see him there on the floor with his Matchbox cars, on the last morning before the world changed forever.
Dr. Francois Luks, Pediatric Surgeon-in-Chief, Hasbro Children’s Hospital
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I was coming out of surgery at quarter to nine and went to talk to the child’s parents – to reassure them that everything had gone well. The TV in the waiting room displayed what almost looked like a still picture: a gorgeous, cloudless blue sky, and a thick plume of black smoke coming out of the North tower. Everybody was staring silently at the screen. The understated chyron message only read ‘World Trade Center disaster’ and, for the longest time, everything seemed to be frozen: the image, the headline, the viewers in that room (the TV sound was off). I suspect I wasn’t alone in this feeling of disbelief, a genuine failure to understand what had happened. Had a small plane pilot fallen asleep? Why was nothing happening? Why was nobody putting out the fire? Years later, I came across the term “black swan theory” (an event so rare that it is unfathomable and has a massive societal impact) – which perfectly embodies the significance of 9/11.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
I can’t say I mark the anniversary – but encountering the date (someone’s birthday, a meeting or an event) never fails to cause a twinge.
— What are your thoughts today?
For the first decade or so, we saw it as this pivotal moment in history: so much changed on that day. (We often hear about the ‘loss of innocence,’ but of course, we (as a nation) were not so much innocent as we were naïve: war and large-scale terrorism were things that happened overseas, not here.) So much has changed since 2001; a lot was a consequence of that attack (Afghanistan, the PATRIOT act, TSA, Iraq, ISIS, no-fly lists, 3-ounce liquids in a plastic bag), but as years went by, it felt less like a turning point and more like part of a timeline. Now, a full generation later, it has become a part of history, like Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination. And of course, our children have now experienced an even greater world event: the pandemic, their own ‘black swan’ moment.
Rabbi Sarah Mack, Senior Rabbi, Temple Beth-El, Providence
I was running around the Central Park reservoir when I heard the emergency vehicles streaming down the park drives. I knew something was wrong, but not the extent of the emergency. I jogged home just in time to call my mother and see the second plane hit the towers on television.
In the immediate aftermath I will forever remember the starkly quiet streets, standing in long lines to give blood, and overhearing frantic cell phone calls to account for loved ones.
As a 4th year rabbinic student, I was beginning an internship at Temple Shaaray Tefila on the upper east side. I watched and listened as Rabbi Jonathan Stein and Rabbi Scott Corngold guided a wounded congregation through the pain and uncertainty. Both rabbis have since died and their memories remain as blessing to me as my mentors in navigating the unthinkable.
Shaarey Tefila lost members in the collapse of the towers, widows who received goodbye calls from the upper floors. The whole neighborhood also mourned the loss of firefighters from the 85th street station who gave their lives trying to evacuate others. There were no degrees of separation from the grief and loss.
This 25th commemoration of 9/11 falls as we welcome the Jewish new year, a time of reflection and introspection. In 2001 we learned how much the world can transform instantaneously, how precarious life can be on that day.That message is reflected in these days of awe as we contemplate how we can be our best selves. We remember those whose lives continue to inspire us as we enter the New Year.
So much changed that day.The fear, the grief and the uncertainty have followed us. My hope on this milestone of memory is that we can recall and emulate the care, the compassion and the spirit of community.
Alisha A. Pina, director, RI Interfaith Coalition to Reduce Poverty
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
At that time, I was an eager Providence Journal reporter out of the East Bay office, which no longer exists, in Bristol. Everyone was sent out to be in community, and get reactions. I went to nearby Roger Williams University and sat in a student center with many televisions – all broadcasting footage of the attacks. I remember tears. I remember hugging strangers and not doing my job well. I don’t remember what I contributed to the paper’s coverage. I remember praying for all involved. There was a numbness with my thoughts, but I clearly remember thinking, “How can I help? I have to help.”
I did call my father. September 11th was his birthday, and he was an East Providence firefighter who cared deeply about the community. He didn’t show emotions often, but he did that day. For a while after, he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday anymore.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
There has always been reflection and prayers on each anniversary. I may have also attended an event or two, lit a candle at home, or posted a message of hope on social media, but none were must-do actions. For me, it is more important to show kindness, grace, mercy, and love for all everyday. I choose to also give back, or fight injustice, consistently to do my part to prevent additional, unnecessary tragedy. There are more similarities than differences between people, so I try to use that logic – and a whole lot of patience – to combat the hate and blaming that are characteristic with those who insist on a divide-and-conquer strategy.
— What are your thoughts today?
Today, I thank God for being in control – even if we don’t see it, feel it, or believe it. I read this recently and co-sign it with my whole heart and soul, “I trust God’s voice more than visible security.” We will be a nation and world where love dominates, where people joyfully help each other rather than ferociously hold on to their belongings, where leaders thoughtfully make decisions to benefit the majority rather than the few and their ego. We all have a moral obligation to take care of those with less, so, as many of us came together on September 11, 2001, to hug strangers, support an affected family, and rebuild New York City, we must continue to come together. Doing nothing makes you complicit in the wrongs you see.
— Anything else you would like to add.
Yes, thank you. We are a nation made beautiful BECAUSE of our diversity— the many people of a multitude of shapes, colors, backgrounds, identities, beliefs, and upbringings. There is a poem I wrote recently that questions every word in the — not our — Pledge of Allegiance. A few lines of it reads:
And how dare you say, “One nation under God!”
My God loves unconditionally
Cares deeply for those with less,
Creates peace and calls for Justice
He is selfless and crowns those who are
humble, invisible,
as they are in Indivisible,
unable to be separated from grace,
mercy
kindness
NOT
corruption,
ego,
greed…
I want the Pledge of Allegiance to truly be “for all,” so I can recite it proudly — and believe it rather than give each line the side eye. Yet the actions lately are far from “liberty, justice, and for all.” They are instead creating more division, more wars, and more attacks.
We can demonstrate and demand better while still showing respect and civility to one another. Be the change you want to see, and trust God.
Laurie-Marie Pisciotta, Executive Director, Mental Health Association of Rhode Island
I think of September 11 often. I had graduated from college in 2000 and was living with my parents in South Florida while looking for my first professional job. I remember waking up late that morning, shortly after the first plane struck the World Trade Center. A friend who, like me, had family in New York sent me a message that said something like, “I can’t believe what’s happening in New York.”
I walked into the living room, where my dad was watching the news, and saw what was unfolding. I was stunned—absolutely stunned. It felt surreal. This was the kind of attack I would have expected to see in a movie, not something I ever imagined witnessing in real life. I remember thinking, “How could this happen?”
The job I eventually landed brought me to Rhode Island, where I became the program development coordinator for the Rhode Island ACLU. Much of my work involved lobbying at the State House and analyzing proposed legislation. September 11 was still very fresh, and people were understandably frightened. I remember seeing dozens of bills that began with some variation of, “Due to the tragic events that took place on September 11, 2001….”
Many bills were well-intentioned efforts to make people safer. But some were written so broadly that they risked unintended consequences, including infringements on privacy, free speech, and freedom of association. I remember writing testimony urging the General Assembly to proceed thoughtfully before enacting sweeping new laws in response to the fear and uncertainty of that moment.
Twenty-five years later, I still think about both the unimaginable loss of that day and what followed. September 11 taught my generation how quickly the world can change. Above all, I remember the people whose lives were lost, the families who carried that grief forward, and the extraordinary courage and humanity people showed toward one another. I hope that, even as the years pass, we continue to honor them not only by remembering that terrible day, but by holding onto the compassion, courage, and sense of shared humanity that emerged in its aftermath.
Jennifer Lee Quattrucci, author and teacher
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
On September 11, 2001, I was 28 years old and teaching kindergarten during my first year at Asa Messer Annex on Althea Street. I was also living at home with my parents at the time.
I first learned that something was happening from the teacher across the hall. From there, information began coming in quickly, and we slowly began to understand the magnitude of what was happening. Like so many people, I remember the confusion and disbelief of those first moments. It was difficult to comprehend that an event of such enormous scale was unfolding while we were simply trying to care for and protect our young students.
I was only 27, and in many ways I was still very young myself. I remember feeling frightened and overwhelmed, but also knowing that I had a responsibility to remain calm for my kindergarten students. They were too young to understand what was happening, and my focus became making sure they felt safe and cared for.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
Over the years, September 11 has become a day of reflection for me. I don’t necessarily mark the anniversary with a specific tradition, but I always remember where I was and what it felt like to be a young teacher experiencing such a defining moment in our country’s history.
As the years have passed, I have also thought more about the people who lost their lives, the families who were forever changed, and the first responders and countless others who demonstrated incredible courage and compassion.
The anniversary reminds me that while the events of that day were heartbreaking, they also revealed tremendous acts of kindness, bravery, and community.
— What are your thoughts today?
Today, 25 years later, I think about September 11 with a mixture of sadness, gratitude, and perspective.
What stands out to me most is how much has changed since that day. My 27-year-old self could never have imagined the life, career, family, and experiences that would come in the years that followed. Yet when I think back to that day, I can still picture myself as that young kindergarten teacher trying to make sense of something that seemed impossible to understand.
I also think about how important it is to remember. For those of us who experienced 9/11 firsthand, the memories remain very real. For children growing up today, it is history. I believe it is our responsibility to share those memories thoughtfully—not simply to remember the tragedy, but to teach future generations about courage, compassion, resilience, and the importance of coming together during difficult times.
— Anything else you would like to add?
One of the things I remember most is the contrast between the innocence of my kindergarten classroom and the enormity of what was happening in the world around us. My students were so young, and their world was still filled with books, play, learning, and the everyday experiences of kindergarten.
That day reminded me, even at 27, of the responsibility teachers have to be a source of safety and reassurance for children during uncertain times.
I am grateful that I was able to be there for my students, and I am grateful for the many years of teaching and learning that followed. September 11 will always be a part of my story—not only because of what happened that day, but because of what it taught me about being a teacher, a daughter, and a member of a community.
I will always remember where I was.
Father Marcel Taillon, pastor, St. Luke’s Parish, Barrington
I distinctly remember the day. I recall I was in Bishop Hendricken High School and it was such a beautiful summer-like fall day. The school year had just began and I was upbeat seeing all the kids back in the school. I was in the main office looking up a students class to go get him when a student from Jamestown ran into the office shaken up. He shared that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. He was very upset by it and I knew him as a very calm person. I reassured him everything was alright. I sent him back to class.
It was some time later that the news came of a second plane hitting the towers. One of the Christian Brothers had a TV on in his class and became concerned. It was then that everyone seemed frightened and the mood changed in the whole school. Many teachers had their TVs on. In the end, the administration asked teachers to shut off their TVs as some children and faculty had relatives and friends working in Manhattan and some in the World Trade Center. The rest of the day seemed so long. Parents came to get their children and I remember many were gone before the end of the day. A reporter from The Warwick Beacon came by and she and I watched the TV in the cafeteria in disbelief.
Over the years, I often pray for everyone. On September 11th, it’s always a somber day. Faculty at Hendricken lost relatives in the building that day and some close friends of our students’ families also perished. I often think of September 11th at the airports or when flying when the stewardesses use the cart to block the cockpits when the pilots use the restroom.
I think we need to pray for peace more than ever between nations. Peace in the Holy Land, peace among all peoples.
I remember the churches were full at masses on September 12th including the Cathedral. There was a fervor of unity in America. A close union of all people and a greater understanding of the sacrifices made by first responders. We need to remember that too.
Sussy Santana, poet and Arts & Health Practitioner
I remember dropping my three-year-old daughter, Luna, off at daycare that morning before going to work at Traffic Court, on Harris Avenue in Providence. I got there at 8:30 a.m., signed in, put my things away, and as soon as the doors opened, people started coming up to the counter.
I had not been there long when one of my coworkers ran downstairs to the clerk’s office, where I was just starting my day. He yelled, “A plane hit one of the Twin Towers.” We all looked at him in disbelief. How could that have happened? It sounded impossible. Then other people walking in started saying that they had just heard the news on the radio.
As soon as I finished helping the person in front of me, I ran to the break room, where there was a small TV that people usually watched Days of Our Lives on during lunch. Within moments, every news channel was talking about what had happened. Many of my coworkers and I were gathered around the TV in silence, just staring at the screen, when one of the news anchors said that another plane had hit the second tower.
We just stood there, unable to move. It was difficult to understand what we were seeing. Then we started hearing the words “terrorist attack” over and over. Was this really happening? I remember feeling a profound sense of sadness, disbelief, and worry. I thought about all the people who were working there, trapped in the buildings and scared. I remember thinking, Is this happening all over New York? Is my mom all right? Could this happen here?
We just kept staring at the TV, unable to grasp that this was real. We also had a counter full of people we needed to help. We were asked to go back to our posts, but everyone was nervous and confused. How could we go back to normal when it felt like the world was ending?
I remember my sister calling me at work. She said she was leaving work to pick up my nephew from daycare and that she would also take my daughter, Luna, with her since they went to the same daycare. She said, “Don’t worry if you can’t leave work. I’ll get the kids and meet you at the house when you get there because I heard the Pentagon was also hit.”
Some of us decided to leave work to be with our families because we did not know what was going to happen. Were other cities going to be attacked? My sister and I were also trying to get in touch with my mom, who had a business in Washington Heights. We were scared, wondering if something could happen there too.
There was so much uncertainty and anguish for the people of New York, a city I loved so much. It was where I had lived through my high school years, and to me, it represented so much of what the United States was. It was the place so many immigrants dreamed of when they made their way here.
I cried all the way home. When I saw my daughter, I hugged her so tightly. It felt essential to be with family.
I remember watching the Spanish news when they started reporting that people were jumping from the buildings. I just cried in front of the TV for hours, and no amount of crying could make it better. It was sad and overwhelming.
As the day progressed and we heard more details, the world seemed to be getting scarier and scarier. How could anyone do something like this? How could we explain what was happening to our children?
September 11 taught me that even in the midst of devastation, the human spirit can still be lifted by community. The country felt united in a way I had never experienced. For a time, it felt like we were no longer divided by state lines or political parties. Everyone seemed to be one with the next person. There was a genuine desire to protect and care for one another, if only for a brief time. I remember feeling like we were all there for each other and this unity was a ray of light in the middle of overwhelming grief.
As time passes, it is still hard to comprehend that this tragedy happened. It is also hard to accept that human suffering is not new and that it continues to happen every day. When I remember the people who lost their lives on September 11, I hold on to the feeling of deep love and unity that came when the unthinkable happened.
I hold on to the people who showed up for one another, to the families who held each other close, and to the firefighters, officers, and strangers who cared for people they had never met. I hold on to our persistent need to love one another, and to every person who called their loved ones, one last time, to remind them of how much they loved them. They were brave even in the face of unimaginable suffering.
My condolences go out to everyone who lost a loved one during the September 11 attacks. The whole country grieved with you then and continues to honor the memory of those we lost.
Love will always be their legacy.
Editor’s note: Sussy Santana is a member of the Ocean State Stories Advisory Board/
Jeff Sparr, artist and co-founder, PeaceLove
— Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001; how did you learn of the attacks; and what was your initial reaction?
I was in my office when I heard someone scream. My initial reaction was that there had been a horrible accident. But that quickly turned to horror as I watched the second plane crash into the towers.
— As the years have passed, how have you marked the anniversary?
As an artist, I’ve always found that sometimes it’s easier to paint than to find the right words. Over the years, I’ve created art to help me process what I was feeling, and each year, on the anniversary, I share those pieces.
— What are your thoughts today?
Reflecting on it, it’s still hard to fathom what happened. Even all these years later, the images and memories remain so vivid and the realization of the horror unfolding in real time is almost impossible to comprehend.
Editor’s note: Ocean State Stories reached out to several Rhode Island Muslim centers seeking their participation, but none responded.
