Turning tragedy into community: 9/11 at 25

Local law enforcement and firefighters/EMTs gather in front of the Anaconda Fire Department’s ladder truck as it flies a large American flag (pictured below) on Friday, Sept. 11, 2026 during a free cookout for first responders provided by the Acacia Lodge No. 33 of the Masonic Temple in commemoration of the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Anaconda Weekly Review photo by James S. Rosien.

Beyond the Beat

By James S. Rosien

Anaconda Weekly Review publisher

Much like anyone who was between the ages of adolescence to convalescence on November 22, 1963 (fewer and fewer these days), or maybe more aptly for this topic, December 7, 1941 (even fewer still), just about everyone above a certain age can remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they first heard about the planes flying into the World Trade Center on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. It was, and still is, the defining moment of the 21st century – despite having occurred less than a year into that century – and perhaps of the entire post-World War II era since its ripple effects continue to be felt 25 years later.

As we reported at the time, yesterday marked the 25th anniversary of that fateful day and, as is tradition, the Anaconda Fire Department flew a massive American flag at the fire hall, hanging down from its ladder truck above Commercial Avenue. On this particular observance, however, the Acacia Lodge No. 33 of the Masonic Temple showed their appreciation for our first responders – firefighters, EMTs and law enforcement officers from various local agencies, whether active duty or retired – by providing a free cookout as well as raffle items donated by local businesses. I was grateful to have been invited down to the fire hall and share in the moment with them all.

Having been on site reporting on far too many fires over the years, the impulse of the first responder to run into a burning building is one that’s far beyond my ability to comprehend – and yet that’s what they do. That’s who they are. I’ve seen them do it, photographed them, written about them time and time again. And so, the sight of, and recollection of, that day when 343 firefighters and 71 law enforcement officers went into those two burning towers and never came out, is still horrifying to think about. And that’s to say nothing of the hundreds more who died in the years since due to 9/11-related illnesses. So it’s all too right and fitting to show our appreciation for them on that day, knowing what they’re called to do.

Likewise it’s fitting for those of us above a certain age to think back to exactly where we were and what we were doing when we first heard, and to share it with each other, which several of the folks I spoke with yesterday did, myself included. In my case, just to set the stage, I was a young sports editor in my early- to mid-20s living it up in Seattle. Crawling out of bed, late for work on a Tuesday (must’ve either been up watching the Mariners or Monday Night Football, or both), hopping into my car, turning on the Andy Savage Show for my usual morning commute routine – only instead of crass jokes about current events and music references the topic was dead serious.

With the memory still burned into my head of the foiled “Millennium Plot” that authorities believed had targeted the Space Needle (the actual target it turned out was LAX Airport), I thought, “this isn’t funny, they shouldn’t joke about this,” so I turned it off and drove rather furiously up I-5 to work. Twenty, thirty minutes later after getting off at my exit, working my way through traffic and turning into my parking lot, I turned the radio back on and they were still talking about it, and so I changed to the regular news station, KIRO, and sure enough, that’s when I knew.

I called my mom who worked at the federal building in Seattle at the time to make sure she was okay, and then after going into my office and conferring with my boss and fellow writing staff we all agreed that this was not the time for sports. So we decamped to the bar and grill across the street where we’d sometimes spend a long lunch spit-balling ideas (or so we’d justify it to the boss), and just watched the endless loop of the towers falling. I remember it like it was yesterday.

But that was yesterday. Today marks a sum total of 25 years of September 12ths, each of them piled up one after another, link by 24-hour link in a ponderous chain of events marching from that moment onward. For approximately 30% of our country’s population, that is to say for 103.5 million Americans – of whom approximately 30% are adults – that chain of 9/12s is all they’ve ever known.

Twenty-five years. A quarter of a century, or quandranscentennial (spellcheck doesn’t like that word, but Wiktionary says it’s correct). If that span of time were a human life, it would be old enough to run for Congress – and if it did, according to the latest Harvard Youth Poll (https://iop.harvard.edu/youth-poll/52nd-edition-spring-2026) its defining issues would be inflation, housing and healthcare.

That may not seem too relevant to the topic at hand, but I will try to link it back up before the end. In the meantime, there was another sportswriter back then – not me, I’m just a minnow compared to this marlin – who likewise knew it was not the day for sports, it is entirely relevant, or would be if he were still with us. Hunter S. Thompson (RIP) in his ESPN Page 2 (RIP) column wrote the following:

“Generals and military scholars will tell you that eight or 10 years is actually not such a long time in the span of human history – which is no doubt true – but history also tells us that 10 years of martial law and a war-time economy are going to feel like a lifetime to people who are in their twenties today. The poor bastards of what will forever be known as Generation Z are doomed to be the first generation of Americans who will grow up with a lower standard of living than their parents enjoyed. That is extremely heavy news, and it will take a while for it to sink in. The 22 babies born in New York City while the World Trade Center burned will never know what they missed. The last half of the 20th century will seem like a wild party for rich kids, compared to what’s coming now. The party’s over, folks.”

That’s all spot on, as we’re seeing more and more each day of what 25 years of a 9/12 world looks like for folks who weren’t already at the top of it.

And yet, as another voice from that “party era” of the Nineties, Linda Perry of Four Non Blondes, once sang: “Twenty-five years and my life is still / Trying to get up that great big hill of hope,” and I think the hope we have here amidst very challenging times is the hope we share with others in our community, in whatever form it may take.

Yesterday, it was the Masons and a free cookout. Today, it was New Horizons and a luau (more on that story coming soon). Tomorrow, who knows what tomorrow will bring – another 9/12, yes, and another hill for us to roll our boulders up, but along with it the hope of another day and another act of hope right here in our community.

Got an act of hope you’d like us to share with our community? Please email the information and photos to info@anacondareview.com and help us get the word out.