Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
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Sep. 11—STONYCREEK, Pa. — After two decades, the grief hasn't faded. For Gordon Felt, it will never go away.
Under clear blue skies Monday, Mr. Felt stood just a few hundred yards from where the 40 passengers and crew of Flight 93, including his brother Edward, lost their lives after thwarting a planned terrorist attack on the nation's capital.
The New Jersey native travels to the Pennsylvania countryside, just outside of Shanksville, Somerset County, each year to honor his brother's legacy, forever tied to the tragedy of 9/11.
"You don't recover and you don't want to," Mr. Felt said. "I talk a lot about holding on to those memories, to that pain. You learn how to move forward, but you carry that with you."
Wednesday marks 23 years since that fateful day, when nearly 3,000 people died in a series of terrorist attacks that also targeted the Pentagon and New York City's Twin Towers. Thanks to the quick actions of the passengers and crew, Flight 93 was the only one of the four hijacked aircrafts that failed to reach its intended target.
Each year, the National Park Service invites the public to pay their respects with a name reading of the victims and a wreath-laying ceremony at the Flight 93 National Memorial site.
The day this year will welcome President Joe Biden, Vice President Kamala Harris and former President Donald Trump, a Republican who is running against Democrat Ms. Harris for the presidency.
No matter who comes to honor the occasion, this day is about one thing to Mr. Felt — the ordinary people who took a stand and "changed the course of history."
"They didn't have any stake in international intrigue or politics," Mr. Felt said. "They were innocent people. Innocent people that acted heroically."
About 45 minutes into the morning flight from Newark, N.J., to San Francisco, terrorists on board Flight 93 overtook the cockpit and turned the plane southeast toward Washington, D.C.
The passengers and crew were told to be quiet and forced to the back of the plane. But rather than succumb to what would happen next, the group voted to take collective action and fight back.
The cockpit voice recorder captured the sounds of the battle they forged in the sky — shouts, calls to action and breaking glass. Flight 93 would eventually plow into an empty field at more than 500 miles per hour, creating a ball of fire and sending debris for miles.
Laura Barbour doesn't consider herself much of a crier, but she couldn't help it during her visit to the memorial Monday. Ms. Barbour and husband Ed traveled from Cleveland to visit their son at the Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and stopped here along the way.
"They do a great job of rebuilding that memory," she said. "Like you can see it in your mind, where the plane was."
A black granite walkway traces the path of the United Airlines Flight 93. At the end, visitors can stand at the overlook and view the impact site in the distance, with a sandstone boulder denoting where the plane crashed into the earth. A message written on the overlook's glass reads, "A common field one day. A field of honor forever."
"When they got on that plane that day, they had no idea what was going to happen to them," Mr. Barbour said. "Even though they were told to sit down and shut up, they decided to act anyway."
It was hard for the couple to wrap their minds around what the consequences would have been if the attack been successful. Flight 93 crashed just about 20 minutes flying-time from Washington, D.C., where legislators were in session at the Capitol building.
"Could you imagine how horrific the loss of life, the loss of the government infrastructure?" she said. "And just how that would have shaken, even more, the American people. I mean, I can't imagine."
Jeanne Sutton of Brunswick, Maine, remembers driving with her dad to Best Buy, hearing live updates about the 9/11 attacks on the radio. She remembered saying, "Oh my God, all those people who have lost their life. All those families that will be affected by that."
But she had no idea it would be hers. She lost her cousin, Louis Nacke, better known as Joey, in the Flight 93 crash. The 42-year-old, from New Hope, Pa., wasn't supposed to be on the flight — it was a last-minute business trip because another colleague couldn't make it.
He was a weightlifter, liked fast cars and could be recognized by his Superman tattoo. His love for the character was seen with the small Superman action figure standing at the white marble panel inscribed with his name. Each victim received their own panel at the memorial site.
Others had personal touches, too, like the small group of seashells under Honor Wainio's name. One of the shells contained a written note, reading, "I never knew you personally but I heard you love sea shells. This is for you. In honor of Honor."
Ms. Sutton remembers her uncle's devastation when Joey called him from the plane but the communication was garbled and they were never able to connect. Her uncle would die less than a year later.
"His immediate family felt that he died of a broken heart," Ms. Sutton said. "It just bothered him that he couldn't hear what Joey was trying to say to him."
While she has the personal connection, Ms. Sutton thinks it's important for everyone to understand what happened that day and the people behind those courageous actions. She and her husband plan to visit all three 9/11 memorials, with just the Pentagon left. "We need to remember," she said.
Pat Arnett, a structural engineer from New York City, was taking in the views and answering some questions from curious visitors Monday. He knows the place well, as his firm, Silman, was commissioned to build out portions of the site.
He points out the care and thought put into the design — like the towering concrete walls surrounding the visitor center that mimic the texture of hemlock trees, which surrounded the crash site.
With the work just about complete, he wanted to see the memorial through different eyes this time.
"Over the past 20 years I've come here probably 10 times at least," he said. "I don't know if I'll ever be back. I just wanted to take a walk around and look at it as a visitor more than as a construction person. It's just incredible."
For Mr. Felt, becoming an advocate has been healing. The loved ones of the victims became an "extended" family of sorts and created the Families of Flight 93 nonprofit group, where he has served as president.
They were instrumental in making this memorial project possible, and still to this day, seeing the emotional response it conjures in visitors is meaningful to Mr. Felt.
"It's no easier way but I get encouraged by the people coming here, who haven't forgotten," he said.
He'll always remember his brother, who died at age 41, as a "brilliant" man who loved his wife and two daughters. An accomplished computer engineer who was an innate problem solver. And at the end of his life, an American hero who lost his life to save others.
Mr. Felt is finding, though, that the lessons of unity learned that day are fading as the political divide worsens. That's why he'll continue to share the story of Flight 93.
"You think where we were on Sept. 12, we were one country," he said. "We were able to get together and put aside our differences. Slowly, things have eroded. It's important that we talk about who we were, who we became and hopefully, who we can become once again."
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