I have to admit, I woke up a bit melancholy this morning, remembering, as most of us do, where I was 25 years ago and what that seminal moment in my adult life felt like. I really felt it when I put my flag out this morning and left it at half-mast. I have to admit, however, that the sadness over the attacks may be overwhelmed by my sadness over our country forgetting how it happened, why it happened, the lives lost, and our commitment to never forget.
Turns out we have short memories as a country.
George Santayana wrote over 100 years ago, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Is it true that if we don’t remember what happened on 9/11, we could actually be opening the door to a repeat of such a devastating attack on our own soil?
Maybe it’s good to let go of some pain, especially the rage that could cause us to act without reason or without considering the longer-term outcomes. My faith tells me to forgive, but it does not require me to abandon discernment and welcome a world that puts my family, my state, and my country at risk. It’s a tough needle to thread sometimes.
My mom and dad would occasionally share their vague memories as small children of the Pearl Harbor attack. But what they remembered most were the impacts of that attack and the war that followed. Mom talked about the neighborhood wardens who would ensure that the street lights were out and shades were pulled at night in homes so that cities were harder to see from attacking bombers. Dad told me about rations on meat, gas, and rubber tires. He said that his grandmother would can meat from their small farm just south of Plattsmouth. He said it was most likely from a dairy cow that had quit producing milk, so the quality wasn’t anything to brag about, but they had meat when some didn’t.
They talked about people literally dancing in the streets on VE Day, knowing that the war in Europe had come to an end and evil was overcome. VJ Day came only months later, and life slowly returned to a new normal in the years to come as soldiers came home.
But they never forgot.
These stories were still fresh for them decades after they occurred and impacted millions of Americans who became known as “the Greatest Generation.” The memories formed their thoughts about hard work, patriotism, faith, and national security, and their memories helped to form me. I never remember a time when a flag was not flown in front of our home as a kid, and that tradition continues for my family today.
Some of you reading this were too young, or not born yet, on September 11, 2001, so remembering is not an option. But what you have seen, like my folks did after Pearl Harbor, are some of the outcomes of those attacks. You didn’t know a time when anyone could go to the gate at the airport and greet a family member coming in on a flight. You never experienced a time when entering a concert or a Husker game did not require a scanner or a clear bag. You can’t imagine taking a full bottle of shampoo or suntan lotion in your carry-on bag without losing it at the TSA checkpoint.
We are only a quarter-century from 9/11, and unfortunately, many seem to have forgotten. I’m not going to rehash the thousands of lives lost, the tragedy of mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, and grandchildren lost on that day, and more lost in the days and years to come, or the countless unseen and untold acts of heroism. But I am challenging us as a collective nation to recall the brutal attack and share our memories with our children and grandchildren, like my folks did.
May we never forget those who gave all that they had for people they never knew. The police, firefighters, Port Authority P.D., National Guard, and military members gave everything without ever questioning what the impact on them would be. The paramedics, ER workers, doctors, and nurses who did their best to heal the injured. Those who didn’t perish on that day but suffered and died in the years to come, and others who are still suffering from physical ailments contracted in the days that followed the attack.
How can we possibly repay these men and women?
Well, we can’t repay them, but at a minimum, we can offer them our gratitude and our respect. Thank a cop. Thank a firefighter. Buy lunch for a man or woman in uniform when you see them in a restaurant. Hug your kids, your spouse, your parents, and say, “I love you” out loud. Say a prayer and ask for protection for our loved ones and for our nation. Set down the things that divide us as a nation, and pick up the things that will make our communities stronger.
Remember the past, so that we, and generations to come, never repeat it.
May God bless you all, and may God bless our incredible United States of America.