09/11/2026
Twenty-five years.
I look at these two photographs—one of me standing atop the World Trade Center in 1979, and another taken years later—and I’m reminded of how a place can hold so many versions of a story.
On September 11, 2001, our world changed.
Today, I remember the nearly 3,000 lives lost that day and the families who have carried their absence for 25 years. May their memories always be a blessing.
I also honor the first responders who ran toward danger when every instinct might have told them to run away. Firefighters, police officers, paramedics, rescue workers, volunteers, and countless others gave selflessly—some losing their lives that day, and others in the years that followed from illnesses and the lasting physical and emotional toll of what they witnessed and endured.
But when I remember September 11, I also remember what emerged from an unimaginable darkness.
People reached for one another.
Strangers became neighbors. Courage appeared in ordinary people. Compassion outweighed our differences. For a moment, we were reminded just how deeply connected we are—and how much we need one another.
Twenty-five years later, perhaps that is something worth carrying forward.
We cannot change what happened. But we can choose what we do with the remembering.
May we remember the lives.
May we honor the courage.
May we care for those who still carry the wounds.
And may we never lose our capacity to reach for one another.
Never forget. 🤍
