The Democrat and Chronicle asked its readers for their memories of one of the most horrible days in American history -- Sept. 11, 2001.
Here is an array of responses, highlighting death and loss but also heroism and human connection.
Deborah Ramsaur, who died at Pentagon, remembered by Fairport classmates
The 9/11 anniversary always brings back memories of my fallen Fairport High School classmate, Deborah (Debbie) Laroche Ramsaur. Debbie, at the time of her death, was the executive secretary to the highest-ranking officer killed at the Pentagon, Lt. Gen. Timothy Maude.
How did this quiet, straight A student, who roamed the halls at FHS in near anonymity, rise to this powerful position? Not a lot of people knew her well, but those that did, would tell you that she worked hard at everything she did, whether it was planting
seeds at my uncle's farm or stocking shelves at Rite Aid. One important characteristic stood out. She brought the best out of people, by example. As one Army officer noted, "She had a calm way of dealing with crisis. You were afraid to look bad in front of Debbie."
Major Gen. Dee McWilliams noted the former executive secretary had "a tremendous impact on people around her. She made me a better person." Civilian Personnel Chief Lee Goeke wrote in a letter, " It is hard to lose such a special person, but a greater loss would have been not to know her."
How many other students like Debbie wander high school halls, ideas percolating and potential hoping to be released?
Debbie is a role model for the forgotten majority of high school students. These are the kids that show up and pass their classes, fly under the radar, and are not the head cheerleader or the standout on the football team. I pray they won't have a state senate joint resolution posthumously passed in their honor, a barrack suite named after them, medals awarded (Defense of Freedom}, but my hope is that students similar to Debbie always try their best in all their endeavors. That they can transcend their high school years in later life and become an impact player.
On this 25th anniversary of the day everything changed, stop for a solemn visit at a 9/11 memorial. In the Fairport area at Potter Memorial Park, a bench with a replica of Debbie's Defense of Freedom medal and another bench dedicated to all our veterans serve as reminders that freedom is not free. Remember those and do not forget!
-- Paul T. Lucci, Fairport High School class of 1974
For teacher and his students, a dawning awareness
On Tuesday, Sept 11, 2001, at age 46, I was in my second week of a major career change -- teaching in a high school, Aquinas Institute.At the end of second period, in the faculty lounge, rumors began to circulate about a terrorist attack in this country. I was immersed in my lesson planning for the next period and didn't pay much attention. Not too much into my third period class, school administration interrupted class with an announcement of what had happened: a major attack, using hijacked airplanes, in New York City.
I remember the shock among most of my students. I immediately knew that my job was to keep some semblance of calm. Needless to say, a regular day's schoolwork was no longer the agenda. I turned on the TV in the classroom, and we all saw the extent of the horror. Other teachers came into the room to observe. I remember one student in particular who was very angry. Many students speculated who was behind this all. And, I did notice some apathy -- and even relief among a few that school now did not matter.
One of my students approached me months later and admitted with embarrassment that all that day, she did not realize that this tragedy was unfolding in this country and not overseas. It was only when she got home that her parents explained everything to her clearly
As the day wound on and finally came to an end, my own focus was getting home to my family as quickly as possible -- after all, we did not know if this was even over and who or where would be next.
Initially, I was supportive of my government's reaction. Years afterword, this support turned to bemusement, then to pain. I knew in my heart that the 2003 assault on Iraq was a mistake. And I questioned immediately the efficacy of creating one more government agency (Homeland Security) to oversee all of the other agencies who had "dropped the ball."
As government gets bigger, I just don't feel any safer -- just the opposite.
-- Jim Gwynn, Greece
From a meeting at Kodak Tower to later volunteering at Ground Zero
I spent four years of college in Hoboken, New Jersey, at Stevens Institute of Technology. The twin towers were a daily sight and a contemplation point from a bench where I would sit. By the final year, I had been to the top of the World Trade Center among many surrounding places. Many Stevens alumni worked there. A close friend was there on the day they fell and told us she took a walk just before because she missed the elevator -- likely saving her life.
That day, I was in a meeting in Kodak Tower in Rochester, although I worked in the warehouse on Lexington Avenue (Building 605). Upon hearing the news, the meeting was ended and we were told to go home. I went back to the warehouse and told the managers that if Kodak is organizing anything in response, I wanted to be a part of it in any way I could. That did not come to be for me. I don't recall if they might have sent resources or specialized equipment.
Because I had my VCR set to record a daily afternoon show, I have hours of coverage as the news station were broadcasting 24/7. I think I still have it and really should get it digitized.
Months later, while they were still working in the pit, I volunteered through the Salvation Army to help for a week. I flew down and took the A train to the closest open station near where I had been able to reserve a relatively inexpensive hotel. There were many possible assignments and I wouldn't know until I arrived that I would be working in the tent at the pit which supplied food and care items to the people still searching for remains.
There was one alert that something had been found though I never knew the result. Everything stops when that happens.
I did manage to arrange dinner with my friend from Stevens. It was wonderful to see her, but unfortunately, we disagreed that the tragedy wasn't just for those involved. I knew that it affected the entire country and beyond. Of course, the impact was much stronger for her, but I was trying to say "you are not alone."
I still have the poster(towers replaced with lights) and letter of gratitude from the Salvation Army and am still registered in the New York Health Registry, although I'm sure I was not physically impacted and didn't want to draw resources away from those who needed them.
So many more memories of the empty skies, except for the occasional military jet. Fearing that Rochester could be a target because of Ginna nuclear plant and other headquarters with towers. And yet, America was more united at that time than it ever has been since.
-- Donna Mero
An Eastman professor's reflections on 9/11
I recall 9/11 25 years ago was a Tuesday. I was teaching private horn lessons in my studio at University of Rochester’s Eastman School of Music, located in room 215 on the second floor of the main building. It is in a corridor perpendicular to the large marble corridor on the second floor, Cominsky Promenade, which houses a gallery of portraits of legendary former Eastman professors.
I heard an increasing commotion that was seeping into my studio, emanating from Cominsky, so I ventured out to investigate. Our tech department had set up large-screen TV so that the Eastman community could stay informed on the ongoing developments. That is how I initially learned of those events.
Incidentally, one of my students who was sequestered in a lesson as events were unfolding was Kate Sheeran, the current dean of Eastman.
For anyone over the age of 25, this event had a profound impact on everyone personally and on the policies and stature of the United States in the world community. This is still the case, some 25 years distant.
For a long time, it bothered me that there were very few organized commemorations of the anniversary of 9/11, so I pitched the idea to the Eastman administration a few years ago for the Eastman Horn Choir to present a commemorative concert, with a piece, Steven Morrell's "Remembering 9/11" central to the repertoire.
We've kept this tradition alive each year, and will also present the concert again this year starting at 11:30 a.m. Friday, Sept. 11, in Kilbourn Hall at Eastman. The concert will include music of a reflective nature (Mendelssohn's "We Are in the Midst of Life"); music that provides solace (Brahms "Festive and Memorial Music"); and music of a descriptive nature (a world premiere composed for the occasion featuring three Eastman horn alumni who are career soldiers/musicians with the Army).
The commemoration also includes reflections by current Eastman faculty and administration, including Dean Sheeran. The event is free and open to the public, with entry at 26 Gibbs St. Last year, there were 400 people in attendance. Visit esm.rochester.edu/events for more details.
-- Peter Kurau, professor of Horn/Eastman School of Music
A Czech border guard's changed demeanor toward American visitor
My husband and I were both physicians. Since our children were grown and off on their own, we began serious traveling. I arranged a bus tour that assembled in Munich. began in Prague and continued into Eastern Europe. We arrived in Munich on Sept. 10, 2001, met the group and bused to Prague. There were four American couples; the rest of the 30 plus passengers were Canadian.
We had a lovely dinner out the evening of Sept. 11 with the other Americans and planned to go to bed early before departing Prague on the 12th. As soon as we were back in our hotel room, Robert turned on the TV and i went to fix our luggage for our a.m. departure.
Robert called to me, "Joann, you have to see this!"
Oh my gosh!! The Twin Towers were gone. The area was filled with dirt or sand and people were running, screaming, falling down and crying. No, this was not a disaster movie, it was a real disaster. I began crying. This was my town, I grew up there.
Our gala dinner out was anything but. The Americans had tried to call home, but couldn't get through. Our kids were safe, so we hadn't bothered. Jennifer was in Rochester with her one year old and Matthew was working for NBC and installing computers in some bigwig's NYC apartment uptown.
The vignette I want to share with you happened the next day as we departed Prague. At the border we lined up to receive refunds on the sale taxes we had paid. A few Canadians were head of us on line so we watched the mean, unfriendly agent throw the refunds back at our fellow travelers.
When it was our turn, the agent snarled at us and grabbed our passports. She opened Robert's and saw that he was American. She changed completely. She grabbed his hand and had tears in her eyes. "I am so sorry," she said.
After that, everywhere we went, people would come up to us and offer their sympathy; It was unbelievable, but beautiful.
I have many more stories like that and some complicated ones, but I am hoping to give a lecture about my experiences so I am saving the stories.
The other one I want to share with you was on the flight home as it makes a nice bookend to my tale. We flew Air France from Paris to NY. We were in the middle group of three or four seats. As I was the only woman in the row and the steward was a Frenchman, he asked me for my drink choice first.
After the disaster in NY, being away from home, etc, I figured I deserved a little bottle of French champaign. Alas, the steward informed me there was a charge for that, so I switched to Rose. His eyes twinkled as he took the French bubbly, opened it, grabbed a flute and passed the set up to me. I knew that was for me and for America and what we had been through. The perfect end to a strange adventure.
-- Dr Joann Dale
A young man spurred by attacks to various forms of public service
Matt Zeller, my former student at Allendale Columbia (class of 2000) was beginning his sophomore year at Hamilton College on Sept. 11, 2001. His reaction to the events of that day was to join the New York State National Guard, and after he graduated from Hamilton, he was sent to Afghanistan.
He was on a mission in 2008 when his unit was ambushed by the Taliban. In the ensuing firefight, Matt’s life was saved by his Afghan interpreter Janis Shinwari, who killed a couple of Taliban fighters who were sneaking up behind Matt. For obvious reasons, the two became very close after that event.
After Matt returned home, Janis contacted him and asked for help to get he and his family out of Afghanistan, as they were on a Taliban “hit list.” Matt embarked on a years-long, one-man quest to help out his friend, with phone calls, emails and the personal lobbying of members of Congress. And in the end, Janis and his family got to the United States. Then the two men created the organization No One Left Behind, which was dedicated to bringing former Iraqi and Afghan allies to the United States. In 2018 Matt was named a “CNN Hero” for his efforts.
The organization succeeded in bringing over 9,000 individuals to the U.S., although now its efforts are mainly focused on preventing these individuals from being deported. Matt has stepped away from his leadership position in No One Left Behind and is currently heading an organization called the Aspen Elevation Institute, which is conducting scientific research to show how skiing and snowboarding can be used to address brain trauma and PTSD, which thousands of our veterans are suffering from. As I write this, Matt is in Washington, lobbying Congress with the scientific evidence gathered at the institute in an attempt to get the Veterans Administration to add lessons in alpine sports to their array of therapy techniques for head injuries and PTSD.
In short, the events of 9/11 led a 19-year-old man from Rochester into the army, then into the war in Afghanistan and finally to a postwar life taken up with efforts to serve his fellow soldiers.
-- Ted Hunt, faculty, Allendale Columbia School
Reflecting on the attacks and our perceptions of risk
It was Sept. 18, 2001. We’d just moved to Indiana one month earlier, and one week ago, the World Trade Center and the Pentagon had been attacked. As we were out exploring the shopping district, looking for a place to buy curtain fixtures and more light bulbs, I pointed out a Target store.
“Personally,” my husband said, “I don’t think I want to go into any buildings with a big red bull’s-eyes painted on it.”
I laughed. Was he serious? I was supposed to be the neurotic in the family. Who would bomb South Bend? But the kids’ elementary school had decided a lockdown was in order on 9/11. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of that. Had anyone in the Middle East ever heard of South Bend?
Of course, my own hands had shaken so badly after watching a few hours of the 24/7 news coverage that I had dropped a cup of coffee on the standard off-white wall-to-wall carpet that seemed de rigueur in South Bend homes, and I’d cut myself picking up the jagged pieces of ceramic.
Perhaps we had survivors’ guilt, having just moved from New Jersey. We knew people who lived in the toxic haze. We even knew people who knew people who had died in the Twin Towers. In fact, the latest news story had pinpointed the mailbox from which someone had sent anthrax to members of Congress in the days after 9/11; it was a mere two blocks from where our children had attended preschool. I’d used that mailbox myself!
And the previous night we had gasped and said, “That’s Mike Dash!” as a reporter interviewed the brilliant family physician who had correctly diagnosed the first postal worker as an anthrax victim. We knew our doctor had been good, but we never expected to see him on national TV.
Yet no place is really safe, is it? Indiana had plenty of dangers of its own: mostly snow, loss of heat and electricity in January, and, in the non-snowing months, rapidly rising water tables and terrible thunderstorms that carried the constant threat of tornadoes. I bought a weather-alert radio, but it went off with a grating, heart-stopping alarm every 40 minutes all night. It seems it reported on any kind of “weather event,” involving precipitation — anywhere in the state. Halfway through the first night, my husband made me take the batteries out of it, but he couldn’t make me get rid of all the flashlights and emergency food rations and crank-up radios I stockpiled.
-- Denise Thompson-Slaughter, Rochester
A work trip transformed
I had broken my left femur in June 2001 playing hockey and I was still somewhat incapacitated. I was the mid-Atlantic manager for my company. Although I normally flew to my territories, I decided to drive for this particular trip. I drove to Pittsburgh on Monday, Sept. 10, 2001, to work with one of my associates on Tuesday and Wednesday.
That fateful Tuesday morning, my associate picked me up at my hotel and we went to our first meeting. While there, a person who worked at this business broke into our meeting to tell us that a small plane had crashed into one of the towers. On our drive to the next meeting, I contacted someone at my home office to find out more and was told that it was a commercial jet that had crashed into the tower.
Our next meeting was at a high-rise in downtown Pittsburgh at an interior design firm. While there, much of the horrible details began to emerge. We left the meeting and as we exited the building, the scene was very disturbing. There was a worry that an attack was imminent for the area of downtown Pittsburgh because of the crash of Flight 93 in Shanksville, which was not far from Pittsburgh. Things were chaotic!
We decided to not complete any more work for the day and went to my hotel to sit in the lounge and watch the world explode.
My associate decided to depart to go home and be with his family. I decided to hang out for a little longer at the hotel and watch more of the horror unfolding. By about 4 p.m., I decided that I would drive home to Livonia, New York. I finally was able to get through on my cell phone to let my family know I was okay.
My daughter had been terrified that I might be on one of the doomed aircraft because I had been flying frequently for my job. She did not know that I had driven to Pittsburgh for this trip. The four-hour-plus drive home was a very eerie trip, listening to the news reports on the radio. I remember struggling to drive my standard shift VW Passat with a healing left leg, and this made the trip that much more difficult.
I was extremely happy to arrive back home and hug my family.
Obviously I will never forget that day and like everyone else, the horror still haunts me. I appreciate the opportunity to share this with you!
-- Christopher B. Peck, Lakeville
To this day, mourning for son's college friend
On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was coming out of a meeting at work when a co-worker asked me if I had heard what had happened in New York City.
I froze.
On the previous Sunday night, I had received an unexpected phone call from my son Brian’s best friend from college. Dave Suarez called because he and Brian were planning a hiking trip to the Adirondacks, but he had lost Brian’s cell phone number. Dave and I hadn’t talked for a while, but he updated me on his new job with Deloitte & Touche working at the Marsh McLennan offices in the World Trade Center. He was really excited.
Brian and Dave had recently graduated from Penn State. I remember that Dave was particularly loving the fact that he was working near the top of one of the Twin Towers in an office overlooking all of Manhattan.
The next few days after Tuesday were filled with gnawing anxiety. Waiting for some glimmer of hope that Dave had survived.
No such word came.
We were cast into the sorrows of Dave’s memorial service in Princeton, New Jersey, and then facing the reality that Brian’s wedding the next year would be without Dave.
On every Sept. 11, I look to the sky and say a tear-filled blessing to Dave, as I will again in 2026.
-- Bob Beabout, Webster
When 9/11 is your wedding anniversary
Interestingly, on America's celebration of its bicentennial year, my wife Joan and I got married near Buffalo in her church in Swarmsville (near Amherst) on Sept. 11, 1976.
I grew up in Niagara Falls and came to live in Rochester and work for Xerox, . I always thought it was a unique experience getting married in 1976, thus never forgetting our bicentennial marriage year.
On our 25th wedding anniversary, we decided to travel to Skaneateles to spend the day sightseeing, as it was a beautiful, glorious, sunny autumn Tuesday. After leaving our home in Chili, we had breakfast in Victor. During the course of breakfast, other patrons were getting phone calls around 8:45 a.m. One conversation I overheard, the person said “No, I can’t see New York City from here, I’m in Rochester!”
Soon, the restaurant was abuzz with what was happening there. We finished breakfast then got on the Thruway heading east. We turned on WHAM-AM 1180 radio, and then heard the live reports from Manhattan. We listened with anxiety, dread, fear and horror during the entire ride.
By the time we got to Skaneateles, we were sick to our stomachs and could not enjoy being there any longer. We got back in the car and headed home. We wanted nothing more than to be with family -- especially our two girls. Our eldest came to the house with her fiancé, and we all talked to our youngest who was away at college in Fredonia. Being with family was very comforting, as was knowing that we were all safe and praying for America.
Now, the date “9/11” that lives in infamy for our generation, is one I’ll never forget. And for more than one reason.We will be married for 50 years on that date this year. In fact, all of our friends also know our anniversary.
Still living in Chili, we will celebrate our milestone anniversary later in October on a cruise through New England, where, by land 50 years earlier, we spent our honeymoon.
God bless America and Americans!-- Jim O'Keefe, Chili Center
A day of concern and connecting
Over the years I have come to shun the memories of 9/11. It was so horrible, I don’t want to remember that day, nor the sadness and heartbreak that followed. I happened to be watching the news when the second plane hit, and I said to myself, “This is like Pearl Harbor, now we will be at war!”
However, I have so much to be grateful for. I thank God always, for sparing all of the friends and relatives who survived that day due to circumstances that favored their escape from the tragedy. We had a large family back then, at least 12 of whom were working in New York, at Logan Airport, for United Airlines and at the Pentagon.
My sister was a flight attendant for United at the time, and probably would have been working the Boston to Chicago leg that was Flight 93, which went down in Pennsylvania, but she was on vacation. I was not aware of that at the time, so it sent me into a frenzy. I had a nephew who I thought was still working for a company in one of the towers, but the company had recently moved the offices to a different building down the block. He barely made it down into the subway tunnel just as the second plane hit the second tower.
In conversations following, I came to the conclusion that as he was running down the subway, the nephew of my best friend was probably running up to the street from the same station, as he also was there. My niece was a nurse at one of the hospitals nearby. My brother was working for USAir at Logan Airport in Boston that morning. Other relatives worked in the Pentagon, but were not there yet for one reason and another. And sadly, the son of a former co-worker, lost his life in the Cantor Fitzgerald office located high up one of the Twin Towers.
And finally, my best friend’s husband was a New York state trooper and was sent to the Jacob Javitz Convention Center in Manhattan. He never was assigned to the worst-stricken area where many troopers were and have thus succumbed to the lung disease they acquired while there. We were blessed, while others suffered terribly. While we mourned for those lost and cried in fear for our country and dealt with the anger and mismanagement of the aftermath, we have continued to be eternally grateful for the guardian angels who protected those in the family who were so close to the tragedy and were spared.
-- Kate Meyer, Irondequoit
Watching the destruction amid realization the world had changed
I wasn't long at work the morning of Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001 when my daughter called me from home to inform me that an airplane rammed the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Many of us thought it was just another small airplane having issues in the skies over New York City.
That was that last naive thought about that day I had.
Two of my other children were away at college/university so I immediately called them to be sure that their cars were full of gas and that they had actual cash in their pocket. For my daughter at the University at Buffalo, I actually gave her alternate routes from which she could exit Buffalo, if need be. To my son at the University of Virginia (somewhat in proximity to Washington), I gave an explicit area to which, if needed, he could evacuate.
Work at my bank came to a halt. Everyone was completely absorbed with the news. I do remember saying to all of them: "Just because there was a pause doesn't mean the attack is over."
These were some of my immediate thoughts and actions. Obviously, as most Americans watched in horror, we recognized that life in America was going to change.
-- Mary McCollough, Penfield
Stranded in Switzerland, surrounded by kindness
On 9/11, I was in mid-air aboard an American Airlines flight from Zürich, with a scheduled stop in Chicago, on my way home to Rochester. Two hours out of Zürich, while we were flying over France, the pilot made an announcement, “As you may have noticed, we’ve turned around of our own accord. There is an air traffic control problem in the U.S. and we are heading back to Switzerland.”
Confusion mixed with concern spread among the passengers. No further information was provided, so as not to cause a panic.
Once we landed back in Zürich and approached the terminal, the crew announced in five languages that airplanes had destroyed the World Trade Center, with each announcement followed by gasps of horror from the passengers. The flight attendants sobbed.
We were taken to a hotel in Zürich. where many of us on the flight became friends. We made the best of it, doing touristy things during the four days we were stranded, as no international flights were going back to the United States.
The Swiss people were wonderful to us, particularly at the banks and pharmacies as money and medications ran low. Along the way, I saw a Swiss man holding an American flag and a sign that said “We are all Americans.”
We were one of the first international flights back to the United States, with a fifth day of delay stuck in Chicago due to personnel and planes being repositioned. It was so good to finally get home.
Since then, any flight delay has paled in comparison to 9/11/2001.
-- Gail M. Seigel, Rochester
Reading to students while teacher's mind whirls
I was reading aloud to my sixth grade English class, as a colleague knocked on my door.
I stopped reading and he monitored me to the hallway. He informed me that the Twin Towers had been attacked and were aflame. At the moment we didn’t know what else was to come. Was this an isolated incident, or just the beginning of something even more alarming?
I had family that worked in Manhattan, not too distant from The Towers.
I was told not to mention anything to the students at this time but to just resume my reading aloud and proceed with the day. He said he would keep me updated.
I returned, with spinning thoughts of possible scenarios in my head, as I resumed reading to an unknowing classroom of sixth graders.
Our world had just changed. How quickly tragic news can impact our daily life!
-- Roy Hyland, sixth-grade teacher, Sodus Central
This article originally appeared on Rochester Democrat and Chronicle: Where were you on 9/11? Rochester-area residents share memories
