September 11th is the 254th day of the year. And in most ways, it’s not particularly different from Sept. 10 or Sept. 12. It’s just a day — 24 hours, 1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds.
The calendar would imply that it comes and goes in late summer each year — just one more day in a relatively quiet time of the year.
But for most of us in our late teens and early twenties, it’s not just a day; it was the day that changed everything.
For me, at least, I’ll always be 13 years old on 9/11. I’m always going to remember that feeling of helplessness and fear. On that day — more than 10 years ago, now — my father was flying a McDonald Douglas Super 80 for American Airlines. I can still vividly remember the moment I discovered two American planes crashed — I froze.
Even the news that they were wide-bodied aircraft — Boeing 757s and 767s — didn’t really console me because I lived near Washington D.C.
Military brats and other children of civil servants surrounded me that day in a school that rapidly took the mood of a funeral home. We were scared and none of the teachers seemed able to console us with authentic confidence.
Thankfully, that day wasn’t defined by the timid or feckless. It’s not a memorial day for those who would have us live in fear and anarchy.
9/11 was a day for patriots, a day for the brave men and women who have the courage and selflessness to wear the uniforms of this great country.
There are many, many heroic stories from that day of extraordinary actions, but one in particular has always resonated with me. It was one known by very few until a couple days ago when the Washington Post printed its simple, and beautiful, message.
It’s special to me because my father isn’t just an airline pilot; he is a National Guardsman and was the squadron commander of the 121st Fighter Squadron, the guardians of our nation’s capital, that fateful day.
On that incredible day, as the world seemed to fall around them, two of my father’s colleagues and friends — Col. Marc Sasseville and Maj. Heather Penney — didn’t need to be called to duty. Despite the shock and chaos of the moment, they knew how to respond when it became clear there was at least one more plane still under terrorist control — perhaps more.
Our heroes didn’t flinch — didn’t think twice. With what we now know to be United Flight 93 heading eastward bound through the Pennsylvania sky, they ran to unarmed F-16 fighters and soared into the skies.
Blazing across those placid skies, they were prepared to ram their fighters into Flight 93 to protect the Washingtonians they swore to defend.
Maj. Penny and Col. Sasseville didn’t have to make the ultimate sacrifice that day, but their willingness to go above and beyond is surely an incredible display of real American valor.
The 113th has a motto to describe its mission,
