9/11 A Generation Later
Never Forget There is Much to Remember
I tried to write something about this anniversary of 9/11. I couldn’t. I wanted to write about my brother Thomas, and that day twenty years ago. I couldn’t. Thankfully he did. I thought to write about my work documenting the rebuilding of The World Trade Center. I spent 100s of hours there watching the work get done. I couldn’t.
Everytime I tried I’d be drawn in by the tales of others, distracted, and returned to that day. I was in New York City, I know “the smell.” But the experiences of others are more interesting.
My wandering, as I tried to write, left me struck by the pleas to always remember and the reality for those who can’t. The children born after their father’s death on 9/11/2001.
I have read that there are 105, “who were in the womb when their fathers were killed in the terrorist attacks in New York, Washington and Shanksville, Pennsylvania.” This reality was documented at the time and since. On television and in magazines.
I thought it, perhaps, cruel to place this burden to remember on those who have overcome much. Does it burden them further, the struggle to remember someone they never knew. But then my mind’s eye was turned to someone I remember, someone I never met, someone I think about everyday.
This person was also lost in an act of violence. In his case he was at war in Vietnam. A father of five, his youngest child a toddler who only remembers the memories of others.
Hubert Nichols was shot down in North Vietnam in September of 1966. An Air Force pilot he was flying a search and rescue mission. I learned of Nichols while working on a documentary about the Vietnam War air campaign called Rolling Thunder.
His A-1 Skyraider, similar to the one in the photo below, was hit by enemy fire and he was never heard from again. In the late 1970s he was declared dead, body not recovered.
His youngest child was only about three when he went missing. I spent the day with all five of his children while filming the documentary. Hubert’s son Jim said this in the program, “I really wish I knew my father, other than just from stories. The kind of stand up guy you really want to meet.”
He went on to add this, it struck me and I made a note of it in a journal I kept, paraphrased - It’s impossible to know those you never knew. But if we can’t remember then learn, remember their lesson.
That sentiment, learning, is part of what inspired my tweet, above, about my brother Thomas and 9/11/2001. Years ago that sentiment also inspired me to purchase a memorial bracelet for Col. Hubert Nichols. I wear it virtually everyday, but did lose for a bit while moving
I’ve been told and read that tradition demands bracelets like mine be returned when people come home. How that is carried out seems to vary. I’ve read tale of them being placed in a grave and left at the Vietnam War Memorial.
That act, or how that act is completed doesn’t concern me much. I do hope to do it one day. Those who know will remember and those who don’t can learn. This anniversary of the 9/11 attacks I remembered a man lost over 50 Septembers earlier. I remember him every day. A pilot, a father, a son, a husband, and a man who, despite his absence, is loved by those who knew him and those who learned about him.
