Post by Capt Ian Brown, USMC, '03
December 12, 2011

It's been ten years since I woke up late that Tuesday morning, ready for an easy day with only one class in the afternoon, to find my roommates glued to the television, newscasters almost unable to comprehend what they were reporting on, and, apparently, the whole world on fire. By the time I finally tuned in, both towers of the World Trade Center were burning and the Pentagon had a hole in it; reports were just beginning to come in about a plane crash in Pennsylvania; and rumors were flying wild, including one of a bomb set off on the Washington Mall. We sat there, watching reruns of the planes striking each building, watching smoke pour out of the gaping wounds in the Twin Towers, watching people hanging their heads out the windows for air and, in some cases, flinging themselves down into the streets below, preferring to plummet to their ends rather than be consumed by the flames.

I remember the first person I called that morning was my Marine selection officer: I wanted to know if there was anything I had to do, if we officer candidates might get called up for some task (a silly question, of course, since I had all of 12 weeks of extremely basic training and would be lucky if all I did was shoot one of my fingers off without hurting anyone else). The second person was my mother. I come from a dual-citizenship family – my father is Canadian, my mother American – and I wanted to know what she made of all of this. She was the first American in my life, and I thought maybe she'd have some insight from all her years here about who, what, why this was happening. My parents still lived in Canada, and I also wanted to know whether it was being reported up there, if perhaps Canadian news had some outside tidbits of information we lacked. Yet she, and the Canadian media outlets, had no additional insights. Few people knew anything that morning, other than the fact that we were under attack. So all I could do was watch.

The first Tower fell. Clouds of smoke, dust, and ash billowed through the streets of downtown New York as people tried to outrun it. At the Pentagon, flames roiled up out of the gash that had been cut to the very center of the building. Rumors of a fourth plane wreck were confirmed, and we got our first look at the gaping scar of earth where Flight 93 had come to grief. The second Tower fell. Manhattan was now obscured by sheets of haze and smoke as the debris spread and fires burned. I don't remember what my roommates and I said to each other, if anything. It was all so unexpected, so unbelievable. It was supposed to be a Tuesday like any other. What was it now?

My one class for the day was cancelled, but I still had to go to cross-country practice. I was a co-captain of nine or ten guys who also thought that today was going to be like any other day. I tried to think of something to say to them; I think what I came up with was something about our country getting hit hard, but that we still had to press forward and not let this interrupt our lives. Whatever I said, it wasn't memorable. Someone else on the team said something far better in far fewer words as we practiced. We were running laps around the track, and our workout was almost done when Chris Ambrose (’03), crossing the start line, yelled out, "Let's do it for New York and DC!" The guys jumped across the line, and I thought I would lose my last vestiges of self-control from that day right there.

The rest of the week was turned upside down. Classes were cancelled the next day, as I recall, and we had a memorial service instead. I remember Father Jonathan trying to hold back tears as he told us that he'd learned of an alumnus who'd died in the World Trade Center. I heard from my parents that the father of several kids who attended my old high school had also died there. That morning of rapid destruction was starting to ripple across the country and across borders.

At some point that week we learned that Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda were taking credit for the attacks. I think my first reaction was, "What the heck is al Qaeda?" I'd heard of bin Laden a few times, in connection with the USS Cole bombing and the attacks on American embassies in Africa; but he certainly wasn't a topic of daily conversation in the news. Now, his face was everywhere, and eventually a video tape emerged of him gloating as he learned how successful his plans had been.

By then I really didn't care who was behind it. All I knew was that these attacks had given my rather general decision to join the Marine Corps a focus that it previously lacked. Before 9/11, I'd wanted to join up out of a fascination with the American military tradition, a general desire to serve my country, and go with the Marines because they had a bad-ass reputation and the coolest uniforms. Now there was a specific purpose: I would make it my personal responsibility to make sure that no one I loved would ever have to see what we saw that morning ever again, or be threatened by the kind of men who perpetrated it.

9/11 gave focus to something else too. It made me realize that my fun little fling with this big old sea-to-shining-sea country had, over the last couple of years, developed into a full-fledged love affair. I was born and raised in Canada, but spent a lot of time visiting America as my mom’s side of the family lived there. Often I joked that I had one foot North of the 49th parallel and one foot South. When the Towers fell, I knew that both feet would be forever here. Because what I saw that morning hurt me more than anything I could remember in the twenty-odd years of my life. This wonderful country where I'd found an incredible school, even more incredible friends (and ultimately, in the months to come, the remarkable woman who would become my wife), a way of life that was energetic, freewheeling, and boisterous, neighbors and acquaintances who challenged me and made me think about who I was and what I believed – this place that had given me so much was now reeling under a blow from petty, angry little men who couldn't even begin to understand what they were attacking. I hadn't felt so stung by any single event before or since. Hurricane Katrina has come pretty close, but Katrina was a natural event, one beyond our power to control. It was a force without guidance or malice. 9/11 was committed with malice aforethought. It was the purposeful decision by a group of men to kill as many of their fellow human beings as possible.

The rage and pain that this barbaric act generated were indescribable, and though the years have dulled these feelings, they've never subsided. Sometimes those feelings lingered below the surface, remembered more at the intellectual than emotional level, and I would force myself to remember them to help me through the difficult times of deployments in Iraq and the Pacific. Sometimes they exploded to the forefront, as when I learned that one of my roommates in basic training had been shot down in Iraq by the same type of murderers who executed 9/11, or when the headlines announced that Capt Kyle Van De Giesen (’02) – the first fellow candidate I met in the officer selection program, a proud product of Anselmian education, and a loving husband and father awaiting the birth of his second child – was killed in action in Afghanistan shortly before he was due to return home. They come flooding back to me now as I write this, and I'm actually a little surprised that they're still this strong. That's a good thing, though: it means that I still haven't forgotten what it felt like that Tuesday morning, on what was supposed to be an easy, relaxing day. I hope I never forget, and that the rest of America doesn’t either.

I forget why but we had an alternate schedule that day. Otherwise, I probably would have been in bed when everything happened. It was my junior year and I lived off campus at Squire. I came home from class just before 9:00. My roommate Jeff was sitting on the couch watching TV and said a plane hit the world trade center. I figured it was a small cessna and thought that it was terrible loss for a few people with no idea of the magnitude of what was happening. He said it was a 767. Shortly thereafter that the second plane crashed. I froze, my heart sank. I sat down in complete shock. America had been attacked. The news soon showed Boston being evacuated. My first thoughts were to try to get in touch with my brother and sister who lived and worked there, except there was no cell service. I was terrified. I'll never forget that feeling. God Bless all who were lost that day, the families they left behind and the servicemen and women who went to fight for our country in the following years.

Post by Will Tattan '03

I have tried so many times to write about that Tuesday morning in September 2001 that began with a cerulean sky and the optimism that accompanies the perfect fall day, and ended with anguish, profound tragedy and a sense of fear so overwhelming and raw none of us had the words for it yet. Every time I try to write about September 11, I get as far as “I cannot grasp it—the ‘there-then-not,’”—before I have to stop.

Because, really, how can I capture on paper what we felt that day? What we still feel, 10 years later, as tribute shows replay the unthinkable—the planes crashing, impossibly, into the towers; the towers collapsing (even now, I can’t get over how slowly they seemed to fall); the dazed men in their suits, covered in ash so thick and gray you wonder how they’ll ever get clean; the women clutching their high heels and crawling through panic-filled streets; the incomprehensible, pin-wheeling silhouettes of those who jumped out of offices to escape the flames and smoke and terror; the police officers and firefighters wiping away sweat and grime and tears as they headed doggedly towards what everyone else was running from. And I certainly couldn’t write about the overwhelming grief I felt in the days to follow, as newscasts showed disbelieving moms, dads, sisters, brothers, cousins, daughters, sons, fiancées, coworkers, friends, lovers—holding up photos of Sara, Riley, Marcus, Nathaniel, Ellie, Maria, Beth, David, Sam, Karen, Josh, and asking someone, anyone to please help find their loved ones because they missed them and just wanted them home.

I didn’t lose anyone on September 11. But I think one of the reasons I was—and still am—so deeply affected is the realization that I easily could have. The terrorist attacks were exquisitely targeted, yet so brutally random. Those directly impacted by that morning’s tragic events began their days doing the heartbreakingly ordinary—dropping kids off at daycare, grabbing one last cup of coffee before a 9am meeting, kissing husbands goodbye before leaving for a conference, hitting snooze on their alarm clocks three times like they always did, cramming for a Physics test they really should have studied for the night before, yelling at little sisters for borrowing a favorite sweater again without asking.

And me? I was home bracing for another long day of job hunting. I had graduated with an English degree from St. A’s four months earlier and naively believed I would immediately become a writer. Never had I felt so lost, so adrift. And never had I yearned more for the comfort of my St. A’s community than I did when the second plane hit. What I wouldn’t have given to be within walking distance of all of my friends, who in four years, had become my family. I craved my St. A’s “bubble”—a safe haven where I had always been able to laugh, talk, share, vent, grieve—and a place I now desperately needed to help me make sense of the inexplicable. How I longed to be sitting in the Abbey church, finding the deep quiet and peace I only seemed to achieve there. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so bewildered by God.

In the years since September 11, I have found a job writing. I have gotten married and given birth to a beautiful, perfect daughter. I have celebrated triumphs and tragedies with my brothers and sisters from St. A’s. I have made peace with God and tried to be grateful every day for all the blessings He has given me—my family, my friends, my health, and of course my St. A’s roots. But never have I forgotten that crisp fall morning in September when everything changed. And never have I taken the ordinary, the miraculous, and the everything-in-between moments for granted again. Be good to each other. Breathe. Love. Rejoice. Forgive. This life is all we have.

Posted by Tracy (Duwart) Jordan ’01

Thanks for this opportunity to express my thoughts. The attacks on 9/11 and the response by the 343 FDNY men who ran TOWARDS the flames and lost their lives should remind us all of our obligation to service. By looking for "What [we] can do for [our] country, not what [our] country can do for [us]…" we'll continue to be the "shining light on the hill." A former POW once said that one of the greatest things about coming home to America was "waking up to a door knob on his side of the door"…let's work hard to make sure that is NEVER an issue for people desiring to live in freedom. I implore all of you students to serve, and make a difference. Go Hawks!

Posted by Joseph O'Brien

Great job to all who shared their thoughts and posted them regarding September 11th. We all were in different places and of different ages and backgrounds. We all realize how precious life is. I enjoyed reading all of the posts.

Posted by Mike Delury

I was sitting at my desk in room 3C257 of the Pentagon when the plane hit the building.

Friday following 9/11 the crime scene tape that had been keeping us out of our office was taken down. We were back to work.

It seemed like only days later that the anthrax letters were in the postal system. Anthrax spores found their way to the Pentagon post office.

A short distance to the left of my desk was the site of the plane crash. And even closer on my right was the post office.

And there were the Washington snipers. One poor soul was shot just across the street from where I would get my bagel and coffee every morning. There seemed to be no escaping the senseless acts of violence.

And yet, out of the destructive violence brought upon us by the terrorist acts that shook our world on 9/11, there emerged an abundance of brotherly love, hope and charity. The resilience of the human spirit is remarkable. This is what I witnessed post 9/11. This is what I learned. Good does conquer evil.

Posted by Joe Corriveau '81

Keeping Faith

It was Saint Anselm himself who penned the words "Nor do I seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe that I may understand…I believe, that, unless I first believe, I shall not understand." For me, these words never seem to sound truer than on days of great sadness. When the details of the abhorrent attacks of September 11th first started to settle into the hearts and minds of Americans and humanity the world over, people found themselves wondering how this could happen. Why did something so tragic take with it so many innocuous lives? How could we, as a nation overcome such hurt and sadness?

It is even harder still, to know that ten years have passed since so many innocent people lost their lives on that clear September morning. Though coverage of the attacks of September 11th will forever be ingrained in the minds of Americans for the rest of our lives, it is imperative that the memory of these events keep us united not only as a country, but also to our fellow man around the globe. When we lose touch with our humanity, we have more certainly lost touch with ourselves. When Saint Anselm wrote of “faith seeking understanding” he meant the search of a connection to God that starts with the search itself. Questions of why and how can lead to not only a better understanding of one’s relationship with each other, but also with God himself.

Having lost members of our own Saint Anselm family, Richard Keane '69 and Stephen Roach '86, and later in 2009, Marine Captain Kyle Van De Giesen ’02 during the “War on Terror,” it seems only right that we honor these men who lost their lives in a true Anselmnian fashion; wishes for faith, peace, and yes, even understanding, will help to heal not only families, but also communities, nations, and men and women everywhere who seek God’s answers.

May we never forget the lives of those we lost. May we never forget the feelings of tragedy we felt and still feel. May we never forget to seek a better understanding of life’s ups and downs. May we achieve these goals by never forgetting to keep our faith.

Post by Rachel Sousa '10

At 8:46 and 9:02 on September 11, 2001, I was sitting in 8th grade math class at my Catholic elementary school on Long Island – just outside of Queens. 10:30 – It was the opening mass of the school year and it was being said by our Cardinal, Chris Cardone. I was an altar server for the mass, along with my close friend Kelly. Just before mass began, our principal announced that there had been a horrible tragedy in the city. Kelly said to me, "Oh my God, Melissa our parents both work in the city." I replied, "Kelly, everything is going to be fine. Nothing ever happens to our parents." I couldn't have imagined what had already taken place just 20 miles from church.

Little by little, certain students were being picked up by family friends. That afternoon, Kelly was picked up by our friend's father. We watched as she walked down the hallway and our friend's father stopped to say something to her. We saw her scream, then fall to the floor. Her father worked in the World Trade Center. It was then that our teacher told our class what had happened. None of us could move. I immediately thought of my mother, who worked at 30 Rockefeller Center. After not hearing from her all day, I will never forget when she finally walked through the door at the end of the day. We lost many friends that day. The months that followed consisted of memorial services and funerals. Our lives, and world as we knew it, had changed in the blink of an eye.

As stated yesterday by the daughter of a 9/11 victim, "10 is just a number. This is in our hearts and in our minds every day." I think of 9/11 all the time – when I hear firetrucks in the city, on a beautiful day in September, and when a plane flies overhead. I'm brought back to that day every time. Yet, even during the days, weeks, and months that followed, the sense of pride and unity is what got us through. Even after losing loved ones, New Yorkers and Americans were stronger than ever. "God Bless the USA" echoed on every radio and was sung on playgrounds. Stores were constantly running out of American flags. The sense of pride was overwhelming.

When the towers fell, two pieces of steel formed the shape of a Cross. God has been with us before 9/11, and especially during and after the attacks. September 11th showed us how fast something you love could be taken from you. Life is too precious. Devote yourself to the things that matter most – faith, family, and friends. I hope that we, as Americans, keep the victims' memories alive and never forget what happened on that terrible day.

May God continue to watch over the victims' families. And May God Bless America.

Post by Melissa DeLury '10

I feel compelled to share my thoughts and experiences regarding the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on America. I can think of no better place to do so then with my fellow Anselmians. I was a Hartford Police Lieutenant and the Commander of the Hartford Police Academy. My wife was traveling and was in Michigan on business. I was responsible for getting my 2 children, ages 6 and 9, to school and would pick them up before 6:00 p.m. from the day care.

On my way into work I heard a plane crashed into one of the towers. Like many others, I thought it was a small plane. Upon my arrival at the Academy, another plane hit. As I walked in the staff approached me and updated me as to what was going on. There were many questions asked and people were offering options as to what we should do with the class and the new police recruits. We all had a responsibility to insure the safety of the City and I remember uttering the words “We are under attack. No one is leaving until we can fully assess what is going on and where we are needed” After giving direction to the staff, I was called by an Assistant Chief and ordered to go to the State Armory, the Emergency Operations Center, as the police Liaison for the City of Hartford at the EOC. I can not tell you how many times I viewed the impacts of the planes into the towers that day. All major media centers were being monitored.

I mourn for all the innocent people, the police, fire, and emergency workers and their families who lost their lives or loved ones in this brutal terrorist attack. I saw first hand how hard people worked and how effective the response from Connecticut was regarding rendering aid and support to New York and the people affected by the tragedy.

We are our brothers and sisters keeper, and we must all stay vigilant to insure our towns, cities, and nation are kept safe from people who wish to do us harm. My 16 year old son recently attended the FBI National Academy Associates Youth Leadership Academy in Quantico, Virginia. He gave a speech to a room full of police executives held at the U.S. Coast Guard Academy a few weeks ago. He said 2 quotes he saw at the memorials he visited had a profound effect on him. “Freedom is not Free” from the Korean War Memorial, and “In Valor there is Hope” from the National Police Memorial. I am extremely proud of what he pointed out, and the lessons we can learn from what he said.

I leave you with my favorite quote with a little variation: “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing”-Edmund Burke. I look optimistically to the future, for I have been blessed to have met so many of you who work hard each day to keep us safe and secure. God bless all of you, and God bless the United States of America.

Post by Joe Sikora '81

Photo Credit: Flight 93 National Memorial (U.S. National Park Service) http://www.nps.gov/flni/index.htm

This post was submitted by Communications and Marketing.

9000 Miles from Home

I was told about the attack by a colleague at the US Embassy. I was the CEO of the Government owned bank in Tanzania which was being restructured for privatization by the World Bank. That night , I was unable to find out what happened to my 2 daughters and son in law who worked very close to the WTC. Luckily my daughters meeting at the WTC had been canceled and all my family were able to evacuate downtown safely. I myself narrowly escaped the first bombing a few years earlier. I often think of those events and how religion can be abused for political ends.

Post by Tony Singleton '71

I worked at Verizon that day and took calls in our pay phone division when a call came through. The man said with desperation in his voice "you gotta help me I need to get a hold of my daughter." I said "I will will help you sir where are you?" He said "I just made it out of the first tower and I don't have any money." I asked him for his daughters phone number and told him to hang on. I got her on the phone and she was distraught. I told her to hang on I had good news for her and I connected her with her dad. A memory that I will never forget and yes I did break down in tears.

Post by Jim Reilly

Actually in Riyahd

I heard the news almost instantly. Several members of our staff had internet pictures of the two burning towers before they crashed down. All work stopped in the office of Network Plans at Saudi Telecom in downtown Riyadh. Several of the Saudi group leaders were discussing the bombings. They thought Isreal did it. Some said we deserved it because we sold arms to Isreal who in turn killed Palistinean women and children. Some thought the Bin Laden style of Islam should be in Saudi Arabia (clearly a seditious remark). Like me, other Americans were thunderstruck and horrified. We all went to our compounds and watched TV. I was really proud of the NYPD and NYFD who were running toward the burning towers while other were rushing out. It was a terrible moment in history. We all thought that we may have to leave quickly if Al Queda decided to "rush the palace" and dethrone the king.

The next day, company VPs visiting us left the country leaving us behind without instruction. I could only think that they were cowards. The Saudis did also. While we were many miles away, our hearts and prayers were for the survivors and the brave rescuers. Upon reflection, Bin Laden was brought to justice but it will never cancel the horror of that day.

Post by Lawrence Cataldo '64

My immediate thoughts upon hearing of the attacks were "oh no," we will be at war again, and angst for all those young people whose lives will be cut short. Then the impact hit of the horror that was occurring and I thought, this will change the United States forever. And so it has, the endless fighting, the economy, and the sense that the United States is indeed vulnerable.

I prayed, then, that God would help each person and family involved somehow cope. Today, I pray that God will help us not only to take time to remember all the lives that were lost or destroyed on 9/11/01, but give us the kindness and wisdom to help those still struggling from the aftermath. I also pray that the peoples of the world could magically set aside their differences and hatreds to find peaceful ways to truly reflect God's love for all. Thank you for this opportunity to share my thoughts.

Post by Linda Morris '85, MSN, RN

I was a Police Lieutenant and at Superior Court waiting for a hearing when I found out. I remember it being such a beautiful day and then all the beauty was drained away as I drove back to the station.

Over the next few days, I was flooded with emotion – never good for a cop. Sheer anger, profound sadness, immense pride, and the knowledge that everything had changed and would never be the same.

Though retired from police work now, I cried last night watching 10th anniversary TV shows about it and relived those days and emotions all over. God bless and comfort all of us and protect us from evil.

Posted by Jim Gaudet '83

This is more a commentary than a reflection. As an Anselmian having lived for decades overseas, often with christian and muslim arabs, when I see the tributes, memorials and debates on the unspeakably cruel deeds of 9/11 I can't help but notice that nobody ever asks: what is it that could make a whole region of the world hate us so much? While such barbarity is universally and unqualifiably inexcusable, one might ask: well what has our government been up to to make them all hate us so much…. A Louvain Palestinian professor states 2 elements, support for repressive regimes and the inability to launch an Israeli Palestinian peace dialogue.

Posted by John Cronin

On September 11, 2001, I was living in South Bend, IN having just begun my year of volunteer work at the Center for the Homeless. I lived in a house without a television and learned of the attacks when my mother called from New York. Miraculously, none of my many family members were lost – they were safe in New York. I felt helpless, I felt broken, I felt lost in the midst of the midwest without anyone who could understand the intense loss I felt for my state and my family. I did not know how to move forward when so many people's lives were lost and changed forever.

Through my experiences since 9/11/01, I have come to learn so much about what it means to see grace grow from tragedy. I find it easy to see the crucifixion in the loss of lives, but I also find the resurrection in the many ways acts of peace are cultivated to bring healing into the world. We see how violence brings destruction, but we also see how love brings new life. I pray we will always remember these events but not focus on a retaliation. Instead let us celebrate how strangers prayed together, how people were selfless, how love poured out of every heart, how compassion transformed the face of the nation. Let these virtues, ones that represent the face of Christ, be what we hold onto and what we strive for each and everyday. Let us serve all of humanity and prove the resiliency of the human spirit – this is how we can honor those who were taken from our lives. This is how we can show our Christianity, and thus transform the world.

Posted by Mary Anne Cappelleri '01

It is hard to believe that 10 years have gone by now. None of us could have imagined that cloudless September morning how many millions of lives would be changed forever that day.

In the aftermath of the attacks, I was called to active duty to serve as a Chaplain Assistant in the New Hampshire Army National Guard. The call up was the largest mobilization of the Guard and Reserves since the Second World War. I served both at home and abroad for a period of nearly two years.

I saw each day the toll of the war and the true cost of our Freedom. I stand in awe to this day of the countless acts of selfless service, and great personal sacrifice that I witnessed, both in our soldiers, and in their families at home. Not a day goes by that I do not count my blessings, kiss my kids, and remember to appreciate all the special things in our everyday lives.

Never forget – so many have given so much to make this world a better place for the ones we love.

Post by Mark Forster '86

Photo Credit: 9/11 Memorial http://911memorial.org

This post was submitted by Communications and Marketing.