25 years later: my tribute to 9/11

When I sit down to write these Friday essays for Wide Moat Daily, my goal is usually to pen a clean, clear, evergreen message about sound investing principles and how they can benefit long-term investors.

So I often focus on the importance of patience and discipline, fundamental analysis, and dividends as tangible anchors to a rational investing approach. But once I realized that this week’s assignment coincides with the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I decided to go a different route.

I won’t be talking about investing today. Or even economics, for that matter.

Instead, I want to dedicate time to remembering the tragedies that happened with the hope of inspiring a better sense of community, selflessness, and love. We managed to achieve that potent combination all those years ago.

And I don’t think we’re so far gone we can’t achieve it again.

Without a doubt, 9/11 was one of the most meaningful times of my life. And so, with the exception of a few superfluous details, it’s etched in my mind with crystal-clear accuracy.

I was in the sixth grade at the time, sitting in math class, and the morning announcements on the PA system had just finished up. We were opening books and gathering materials from our backpacks when, without warning, the male teacher from next door burst out of the supply closet that connected our adjacent rooms.

“Turn on the TV! We’re being f***ing bombed!” he yelled.

I don’t remember my own teacher's face, much less her name. Those details have faded away. But I do remember her reaching up to click on the television that was mounted in the corner of the room.

And I definitely remember seeing the live footage that showed smoke rising out of one of the twin towers.

Minutes later, we all watched the second plane hit the South Tower. The classroom filled with shrieks.

By then, we had gathered enough information to know we weren’t being “bombed.” Yet it was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that something terrible was happening.

I remember going to the front office and tearfully calling my mother at work to make sure my younger brother and father were alright. I guess my fear was that if big buildings were being targeted by bad guys, the post office where my dad worked and my brother’s elementary school building might have been hit as well.

She assured me that they were safe and that everything would be okay.

But of course, everything wasn’t okay. And it wouldn’t be for a very long time.

For days, images of those burning towers were inescapable. It was all anyone talked about.

How could we talk about anything else?

Footage related to the terrorist attacks was plastered on every TV channel except for those totally dedicated to cartoons. And as a newly minted middle schooler, I wasn’t interested in those anymore.

I was taking in the world from whole new perspectives.

Transitioning from fifth to sixth grade meant a new school, new classmates, and newfound freedom and autonomy. For the first time, I had a locker and was unaccompanied by teachers during class breaks. And at lunch, I could buy a la carte items like Otis Spunkmeyer cookies or colorful bottles of Fruitopia if I wanted to.

As for PE class, we now had to go into a locker room to change into gym clothes first. And afterward, we doused ourselves with Axe Body Spray to impress the girls, who I was beginning to see in an entirely new light.

In short, I was becoming a man, growing up and getting a taste of the real world.

At least, I thought I was.

The 9/11 attacks showed me how incredibly wrong I was. How woefully unprepared I was. That I wasn’t nearly as big, or cool, or strong, or brave as I thought I was.

On the contrary, that day made me feel small, helpless, and scared.

Even now, I have to admit I’m still fearful of airplanes.

I’ve gone on several cross-country road trips over the years. And I’ve driven up and down the entire Eastern Seaboard from Bar Harbor to Key West.

I tell myself it’s because of a Kerouacian wanderlust and desire to truly experience America as opposed to simply flying over it. But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s really because I’m terrified of finding myself in the shoes of those poor folks on those four flights so tragically impacted by the 9/11 terrorists.

I doubt I’ll ever overcome that fear.

Yet there were silver linings to the 9/11 attacks.

I don’t mean to sound insensitive saying that, especially as a major anniversary opens up old wounds. So before I go any further, I want to sincerely recognize the loss and grief of those most directly impacted – the family members of men, women, and children who died that day.

The rest of us should never forget them or their suffering, and we should strive to be there when they need our support. I know I’m truly praying for God’s peace to enter their hearts during these trying times.

We should also remember how Americans were galvanized by the terror attacks to check in on neighbors, call up estranged family members, form closer knit communities, and ultimately love one another better.

That was truly inspiring: a beautiful outcome from such a horrific day.

We would do ourselves and everyone else an enormous favor to be inspired once again – even in the midst of our starkly split political factions and the epidemic of loneliness social media has produced.

Speaking of the latter, there really does seem to be an inverse relationship between the rise of technology and the loss of humanity. And we’re seeing that play out on an even broader scale now with the advent of artificial intelligence.

It’s like we’ve forgotten how to interact politely with one another. We’ve forgotten how to communicate kindly.

And I fear we’re forgetting what true community feels like.

The aftermath of the September 11th attacks created an atmosphere in America that was unique in my lifetime. While the Covid-19 pandemic felt equally frightening and impactful almost two decades later, our response to that was to retreat into isolationist bubbles.

Even if that was supposed to be a selfless sacrifice, it still ultimately drew us away from each other. Whereas the response to 9/11 was the opposite, rekindling a sense of community and togetherness that enabled the country to heal.

Twenty-five years later, we need to re-visit those feelings.

I wasn’t the only one who felt small back then. I suspect most of us did.

Yet that allowed us to humble ourselves, to see past petty differences, and to realize that our true calling as humans is to love and be loved.

To me, this is what the “Never Forget” messaging surrounding 9/11 really represents… not just remembering the nearly 3,000 poor souls who lost their lives that day, or their friends, families, and loved ones who still grieve them even now…

But also recognizing the sense of community that those falling towers fostered and the capacity to love that, far too often, we otherwise forget we possess.

Kind regards,

Nick Ward
Analyst, Wide Moat Research