“A Birthday Shared With a Day the World Will Never Forget”

As I sit here reflecting, I realize that in two days I will celebrate my birthday—September 11.

For most people, a birthday is supposed to be a day of celebration.

But for me, September 11 has always carried something more.

It carries a memory.

A morning.

A moment when the world changed.

I can still remember September 11, 2001, as clearly as if it were yesterday.

At the time, I was working for SkyWest/United Airlines and was based in Los Angeles. It happened to be my day off.

Early that morning, I was in the kitchen making breakfast when my wife came running into the room.

“Turn on the news,” she said. “It’s bad. Our country is under attack.”

I immediately turned on the television.

There they were—the images coming out of New York.

The first tower had already been struck.

I stood there watching, trying to understand what I was seeing.

Like millions of people across America and around the world, I simply couldn’t comprehend it.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Not here.

Not to us.

But because of my role with the airline, I knew very quickly that this wasn’t something I would simply watch on television.

I was part of the emergency response team, and we were activated.

The phones began ringing.

People started moving.

Questions came faster than answers.

What had happened?

What was happening next?

Where were our aircraft?

Where were our crews?

What could we do?

And yet, for all the experience and all the systems we had in place, there was something profoundly unsettling about that morning.

We were helpless.

Aviation—the world I had devoted so much of my life to—came to a screeching halt.

Flights were grounded.

Airports emptied.

Travel stopped.

The skies, normally filled with aircraft crossing the country and connecting people from one place to another, suddenly became almost completely silent.

For someone who worked in aviation, that silence was something I will never forget.

I remember crying as the day unfolded.

I remember the fear.

I remember the sadness.

I remember the uncertainty.

And I remember watching our country struggle to understand what had just happened.

Everyone wanted to do something.

We wanted to help.

We wanted to respond.

We wanted to comfort someone.

We wanted to make sense of something that made absolutely no sense.

But sometimes there are no words.

There are only moments when we stand together and remember.

Twenty-five years later, those memories remain deeply personal.

I remember the people who were lost.

I remember the families whose lives were changed forever.

I remember the firefighters, police officers, paramedics, airline crews, military personnel, and ordinary people who ran toward danger while others were trying to escape it.

And I remember something else.

I remember the way people came together.

For a brief moment, so much of the noise that normally divides us seemed to disappear.

Strangers became neighbors.

People checked on one another.

Flags appeared everywhere.

People prayed.

People helped.

People mourned together.

America paused.

And perhaps that is one of the things I remember most.

The unity.

As my birthday approaches each year, I find myself holding two very different emotions in the same place.

There is gratitude for another year of life.

And there is remembrance for the lives that never got another birthday.

September 11 will always be both for me.

A birthday.

And a day of reflection.

It reminds me how fragile life can be.

It reminds me that tomorrow is never promised.

And perhaps most importantly, it reminds me to hold the people I love a little closer, to appreciate the time we are given, and to never take an ordinary day for granted.

Twenty-five years have passed.

But some mornings never really leave us.

Some memories remain etched into our hearts forever.

September 11 is one of those days.

---

Where were you that morning?

What do you remember most?

I’d genuinely like to hear your stories, memories, and reflections in the comments.

Because remembering isn’t about living in the past.

Sometimes, remembering is how we make sure the past continues to teach us.

— Alex
Notes From Alex