The Day the World Trembled: September 11, 2001- 25 Years Later

I wrote these stories years before artificial intelligence became my writing companion. Today, at 91, I am revisiting some of them not to change my memories, but to see what I understand differently after another decade of living.

The Day the World Trembled: September 11, 2001 - 25 Years Later

What I remember, what I learned, and what 25 years have taught me

Twenty-five years ago, on September 11, 2001, the world changed.

I still remember where I was. I remember the television. I remember the disbelief.

I remember watching the images from New York and Washington and wondering how something so unimaginable could actually be happening.

I had lived through World War II as a child in the Philippines.

I had experienced the fear of war before I was old enough to understand it.

But September 11 was different. This time I was an adult.

I was living and working in America.

And I was watching an attack unfold in real time.

Today, at 91, I find myself thinking about that day again.

Twenty-five years is a long time. But some memories do not age.

Where were you on September 11?

Almost everyone who was old enough to remember that day has an answer to this question.

Where were you when you heard? What were you doing? Who was the first person you called?

For my generation, September 11 became one of those rare historical moments that divided time into before and after. Before 9/11. After 9/11.

We had seen wars on television before. We had seen disasters. We had seen acts of terrorism.

But watching commercial airplanes deliberately crash into the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon was something different.

The ordinary became terrifying.

An airplane, something we associated with travel and connecting people across the world, had been turned into a weapon.

The morning began like any other morning. Then suddenly nothing was ordinary anymore.

I had already known what war felt like

Perhaps September 11 affected me so deeply because of my childhood.

I was seven years old when World War II reached the Philippines.

My family fled our home in Jaro, Iloilo. We eventually hid in the jungles of Panay.

I saw Japanese soldiers. I watched airplanes fighting overhead.

Members of my mother's family were killed.

I learned very early that ordinary people can suddenly find themselves living through extraordinary events. But there was an important difference.

During World War II, I was a frightened Filipino child.

On September 11, 2001, I was working scientist living in America.

I understood much more about the world. And perhaps that made the events even more frightening.

My connection through the FDA

There was another reason September 11 became personal for me.

I had spent many years working at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, where I eventually became a Chemistry Team Leader in the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

I had retired from the FDA, but I still followed developments in public health and national preparedness closely.

After the attacks, the country quickly realized that the threat might not be limited to airplanes and buildings.

There could also be biological, chemical and other forms of attack.

Soon afterward, the United States experienced the anthrax mailings.

Letters containing anthrax spores were sent to media organizations and congressional offices.

Twenty-two people became ill and five died. The country was suddenly confronting something that seemed almost unimaginable only weeks earlier: bioterrorism.

For someone with my scientific background, this brought the tragedy of 9/11 into another dimension.

The fight against terrorism was no longer only a military or law-enforcement issue.

It was also a public-health and scientific challenge.

Scientists were part of the response

One thing I learned during my FDA career is that science often works quietly.

Scientists rarely receive the same attention as soldiers, firefighters or political leaders.

But during a public-health emergency, scientists become part of the front line.

Following 9/11 and the anthrax attacks, FDA worked with other government agencies and manufacturers on medical countermeasures. I was part of that team. 

The agency clarified the use of certain antibiotics against anthrax, and government agencies worked to ensure supplies of vaccines and other medical products.

The Strategic National Stockpile also moved medical supplies rapidly after the World Trade Center attack and later delivered anthrax countermeasures to sites around the country.

I was proud to have spent my career as a scientist serving the American public.

I was never on the front line with firefighters climbing the stairs of the World Trade Center.

I was never a police officer running toward danger.

But I came to understand that service takes many forms.

Some people save lives with courage in the moment.

Others help protect lives through science, medicine, regulation and preparedness.

Both forms of service matter.

The heroes of September 11

When I think about 9/11, I think first of the victims.

But I also think about the people who ran toward the danger.

Firefighters. Police officers. Emergency medical workers.Airline crews.

Office workers helping strangers. Ordinary people who suddenly became extraordinarily brave.

Some knew they were entering danger. Others had no choice. Many never came home.

Their families paid the price for their courage.

The 25th-anniversary commemoration this year will again read the names of those who died, including recognition of people who later died from 9/11-related illnesses and injuries.

That is important. Because remembering is part of honoring.

The passengers of Flight 93

There is another group whose courage has stayed with me. The passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 93.

They learned that their airplane was part of the terrorist plot. They fought back.

The plane crashed in Pennsylvania instead of reaching its intended target.

We will never know exactly what would have happened if those passengers had not acted.

But we know what their courage represented. Sometimes ordinary people are suddenly placed in extraordinary circumstances.

They must make decisions with almost no time to think.

Their courage reminds us that heroism does not always belong to people wearing uniforms.

Sometimes it belongs to a passenger sitting in an airplane seat.

Twenty-five years later

Twenty-five years is long enough for an entire generation to grow up without personal memories of September 11.

Young adults today may have been born after the attacks.

For them, 9/11 is history. For people my age, it is memory. That difference matters.

History is something we read about. Memory is something we carry.

I remember watching the towers collapse. I remember the smoke.

I remember the confusion. I remember the fear that there might be more attacks.

I remember how suddenly the country seemed united.

For a brief period, many Americans stopped arguing with one another. We were simply Americans.

What happened to that unity?

This is one of the questions I ask myself at 91. After September 11, there was an extraordinary sense of national solidarity.

People displayed American flags. Neighbors helped neighbors. Strangers comforted strangers.

We seemed to understand that there were things more important than our political differences.

Twenty-five years later, America is much more divided.

I sometimes wonder what happened to the spirit of September 12.

The day after the attacks, we were frightened. But we were also together.

Perhaps we should remember that feeling. Not because we should recreate the tragedy.

But because we should remember what Americans were capable of when they recognized that they belonged to one another.

We must remember without living in fear

There is another lesson I have learned with age. Fear is powerful.

But fear can also become dangerous when we allow it to control our lives.

After 9/11, airport security changed. Government agencies changed.

National-security policies changed. Public-health preparedness changed.

The United States created new systems to prepare for threats that once seemed unimaginable.

Some changes were necessary. Some created difficult debates about privacy, civil liberties and government power.

Twenty-five years later, we can look back with more perspective.

A mature society must protect its citizens while also protecting the freedoms that define it.

That balance is never easy.

From 9/11 to the age of artificial intelligence

There is another reason I think about September 11 today.

The world of 2026 is again facing technologies that can change society in ways we cannot completely predict.

When I retired from the FDA, the Internet was still relatively young.

Today, I write with artificial intelligence as my writing companion.

AI can help scientists. It can help doctors. It can help governments. It can also be misused.

This reminds me of something I learned from 9/11:

Technology itself is neither good nor evil. What matters is how human beings choose to use it.

An airplane can connect people across oceans. The same technology can be turned into a weapon.

Artificial intelligence can help us discover medicines and solve scientific problems.

It can also be misused for misinformation, manipulation or other harmful purposes.

The lesson is not to fear technology. The lesson is to use wisdom alongside technology.

What I understand at 91

At 91, I no longer look at September 11 only as an American tragedy.

I see it as a human tragedy. People from many countries and backgrounds were killed.

Families lost fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters.

The tragedy crossed national boundaries. So should our compassion.

I am a Filipino-American. I was born in the Philippines. I became a scientist in America.

I have lived most of my adult life in the United States.

I have learned that patriotism and compassion do not have to compete.

I can love America while remembering that human suffering does not stop at national borders.

What should we teach our children?

I have grandchildren and great-grandchildren now.

When I tell them about September 11, I do not want simply to tell them about terrorism.

I want them to understand what happened to ordinary people.

I want them to remember the firefighters. The nurses. The police officers. The passengers.

The office workers. The families waiting for telephone calls that never came.

And I want them to understand that hatred can have consequences far beyond what the people who begin it imagine.

History is full of examples. World War II taught me that. September 11 taught another generation the same lesson.

Twenty-five years later, I still remember

Some historical events become less important as time passes.

September 11 is not one of them. But perhaps our understanding of it can mature.

In 2001, I asked: How could this happen?

Today I ask: What can we learn from it?

We learned that evil exists. But we also learned that courage exists.

We learned that hatred can destroy. But we also learned that compassion can unite.

We learned that technology can be weaponized. But we also learned that science can help protect lives.

And we learned that ordinary people can become heroes.

A final thought

I began this article many years ago with a simple question: Where were you on September 11, 2001?

Twenty-five years later, I think the more important question is: Where are we now?

Are we more compassionate? Are we wiser?

Are we less willing to dehumanize people who are different from us?

Are we teaching our children the value of peace?

Are we using science and technology responsibly?

Those are questions worth asking. I am 91 years old.

I have lived through World War II, the Cold War, the Vietnam era, 9/11, the COVID-19 pandemic and now the beginning of the AI age.

I have seen fear. I have seen loss. But I have also seen extraordinary human resilience.

That is what I choose to remember. On this 25th anniversary, I remember those who died.

I remember those who served. I remember the families who still carry the loss.

And I remember the remarkable unity that briefly brought Americans together.

Twenty-five years later, perhaps the greatest tribute we can give those who died is not simply to remember how they died. It is to remember how precious life is.

And then to live accordingly. May we remember. May we learn.

May we forgive. May we choose peace and we may choose Unity and Gratitude.