Reflections on 9/11, Twenty-one Years Later

These were my remarks to students during assembly on 9/11/2022: 

You may have noticed our flags are at half mast today. Twenty one years ago today, we were horrified to watch planes fly into the World Trade Center and into the Pentagon, and a fourth plane crash in Pennsylvania. Nearly 3,000 were killed, the deadliest terrorist attack on American soil in our history. We remember all those who died that day. We also continued to pray for the family members who still feel their loss today. 

I was just 1 when our president, John F. Kennedy was assassinated,  22 when the space shuttle Columbia blew up, and 39 on 9/11/2021 when we were attacked. For people who lived through it—and I think your teachers will agree with me—it’s the worst public event we’ve witnessed in our lifetimes.

There have been a lot of articles written about the lasting impact on 9/11 and the toll it’s taken on the United States, even beyond those killed that day. Among other things, we’ve fought two wars, in Afghanistan and Iraq, with many lives lost and billions of dollars spent. 

But I would argue the longest lasting impact is we’ve lost a lot of trust in each other. You can see that in airport security check points. You can see that in the millions of security cams we’ve put everywhere. Schools are required to have them—we have 35 of them.  In homes: “Ring” Doorbells for front doors, hidden cams in our homes. Cities have web cams everywhere. Cars have them on their dashboards. You can scarcely do anything without being recorded. 

And because of this felt loss of privacy, Americans have tried to counter by protecting their privacy, turning “inward.”  Just look at our neighborhoods. If you were flying over the typical middle class neighborhood today, and comparing to 21 years ago, you’d notice two striking differences: privacy fences, and the proportion of house size (huge) to lawn size (small). We don’t go outside as much, and we’ve separated ourselves from our neighbors.

Our smart phones have contributed to this. One of the great ironies of our time is despite the fact these phones give us almost unlimited potential to connect with each other, in fact they more often than not separate us. We look down, and not out. When I walk in the morning, I often pass 7 teenagers waiting for the bus, standing next to each other. What are they typically doing? All on the phone! Of course!  But it isn’t just teenagers. It’s adults, too. I was at a restaurant recently, and there was a family two tables over—a grandmother, a mom and dad, and 2 teens—and they were ALL on their phones, even grandmother!

People ask me, from time to time, why we have a “no cell phone during school hours” policy. It’s precisely for this reason. We want you to look up! We want you to notice each other, to talk with each other, to turn outward, not inward. The joy is in the interactions. The joy is in the friendships. That’s why I was so happy last week with our club fair, when so many of you were signing up for clubs to join this year. Dive in to these clubs, and you’ll build real friendships here. I know it’s awkward, and little bit scary to join something new, but it’s a risk worth taking. 

Let us continue to pray for the families of the victims of 9/11. But let us also pray for ourselves, that we will look up, that we will trust ourselves to each other, and that we will forge lasting friendships that will bring joy to our lives. 

Fond Farewell

Because our house in Daphne sold so quickly, for the last few weeks Diane and I have been living in a friend’s guest house in Fairhope, very close to the Mobile Bay. My morning walks have improved considerably; I now walk down the bay to the Fairhope Public Pier, then down the pier. The sun is just rising from the east as I walk back, reminding me, once again, how breathtakingly beautiful this place is. 

It’s easy to take all this for granted. I grew up in Mobile. During my teenage years, my good friend had a bay house on County Rd 1, south of Scenic 98. They had a pier that stretched out 400 feet over the water,  with a covered landing at the end. We spent many weekends there, fishing, playing music, sailing, laughing and teasing. That was nearly 45 years ago, but the memories come roaring back as I walk alongside the bay each morning and soak it all in. Something about the open water brings us full circle, calming us and slowing us down.

I will miss this place. I will miss its beauty and southern charm. I will miss the kindness of strangers, who engage you in friendly “hello’s” or small talk as you  pass them by. I will miss the oak trees, draped in Spanish moss, and the sounds of laughter and faint music, which carry across the water from some unknown source. I’ve learned that retired people love their dogs, and can be seen at all parts of the day, out walking them.  There’s indeed a “peaceful, easy feeling” here. No one is in a particular hurry. 

My first impression of Plano is different: More traffic, a much younger town, with people in their mid-careers, successful,  hustling to get ahead. Things are just busier there, and it’ll take some getting used to. But we believe it’s where God wants us, for now. My daughter is there, with her four daughters, ages 6, 4, 3 and 1, and we don’t want them to grow up without knowing us. 

And perhaps, though I am conflicted about this, it’s time to move on from St. Michael as well. It’s been an incredible joy ride these last seven years to start this school with the people of Baldwin County. I’ve been able to take all my best ideas from leading two other Catholic high schools for 26 years, propose them for this school, and see them flourish. Our success has been astounding on every level: enrollment, philanthropy, test scores, A.P. results, athletic accomplishments, and real advances in the arts, music and band. The life of faith here is vibrant and strong. I am proud of the school we’ve created together. 

But there does come a point in every school, I believe, where the “cutting edge” ideas experienced by the first wave of students and parents become the “status quo” ideas by the second and third wave. Storefronts need occasional make-overs. So do schools, and the easiest way to do that is change out the leadership. “Letting go” is tough for the founder of any institution, even when that person senses, deep down, it’s time to do so. From that release comes a grace and a humility (not my strong suit) which is good for the soul. I’ve felt the peace that comes with that, especially these last few weeks. 

So, “onward and upward.” I’ve used that phrase to close out my weekly communications with our parents and friends ever since our beginning. I mean it to suggest we should keep our gaze focused on our future (onward) but also on the Lord (upward). 

I’ve been asked hundreds of questions about our success here: “Why are donors so generous?”  “How do you have such great A.P. scores?”  “How did you land Philip Rivers as your coach?”  “What accounts for your strong enrollment? “ "How did you get such wonderful teachers?" In the end, the answer to all those questions is the same:  “God’s grace.” If we remember that, with humility, if we listen carefully to Him and have the conviction to go where He leads,  this school will continue to make a powerful difference—an eternal difference— in the lives of its students and families. 

May it always be so.

July 4, Abortion, and 'E Pluribus Unum'

This July 4th, instead of going to the fireworks display in our town, my wife and I scrolled the channels for the best fireworks coverage on TV, and landed on PBS, broadcasting from Washington D.C. The program featured a variety of popular musicians and entertainers singing and playing our country’s great anthems, like “America the Beautiful,” “God Bless America,” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” Its host was country music singer Mickey Guyton, who radiated joyfulness throughout the evening,  closing out the pre-fireworks program with her song, “All-American” (see above), the refrain of which is: “Ain’t we all, ain’t we all American?“ We were then treated to a spectacular fireworks display from the National Mall, bracketed by the Lincoln Memorial on one end, and the Washington Monument on the other. All through out the broadcast, the cameras panned the crowd, an eclectic mix of young and old, black, white, Latino, Asian—all smiling, waving flags, and singing patriotic songs.  For ninety glorious minutes, unlike SO much of our shrill political discourse, our differences didn’t matter—we simply celebrated our country’s birthday with pride. I was moved by it. 

That image is still with me, even as we enter into a new set of political circumstances regarding our nation’s most divisive social issue, abortion. 

The Supreme Court’s  decision in Dobbs, declaring that abortion is no longer a “constitutional right,” but must be decided by each state legislature, is a a great victory for the pro-life movement! I was eleven years old when Roe  was decided in 1973, and I never thought I’d see it overturned in my lifetime.  I share in the euphoria of the pro-life movement in its reversal. 

But I’ve read a lot of articles since, written by pro-life supporters, reminding us that “war" is not yet won, that we must now take the “battle” to each state legislature, and to metaphorically “gird up our loins” for the “fight” ahead in our state legislatures.

I agree there is much work still to do! But may I suggest we not frame the future in terms of warfare? The thing about a war is it automatically casts an “enemy,” and by gearing ourselves up for battle, we encourage the other side to gear up similarly. The issue is reduced to “us vs. them,” a matter of winning or losing. 

I believe we will make more progress if we begin by what we share in common, and work from there.  

I am not naive. I realize there are polarized extremes in this debate who scream at each other. There are political operatives that use the issue to foment dissent and acrimony for political advantage. But for the vast majority of America in the middle—people who don’t like screaming—I believe there is much we can work on together that begins to change the hearts and minds of our citizens. Building a culture of life is a long term proposition! 

I’m talking about things like this: Can we not all support crisis pregnancy centers that serve poor women, that among other things, help women understand how to get Medicaid insurance for pre-natal care and delivery? That give her emotional support, especially if she is in an abusive relationship? Can we not reform foster care laws in this country to protect foster parents from the natural parents changing their mind—one of the reasons foster parents often adopt in other countries? Can we not make men more accountable for the children they sire, insisting that pregnancy is mutual responsibility for both the mother and the father? Are we willing to truly tackle educational reform, so that young mothers and fathers have hope for their futures, and don’t feel “trapped” in their own helplessness and poverty? Can we not work for a society that promotes the nobility of families, helping homes become more stable, with children guided by a fatherly and motherly presence? 

It seems to me these are worthy goals, and by tackling them together, where-ever our starting point, we move closer to building a culture of life that allows us to pass legislation that protects life in all of its developmental stages, from the pre-born to the very old.  Would that one day the very idea of exterminating our young was morally repugnant to all!  

So yes, let’s work for laws which prohibit abortion in each of our states! But let us cast as wide a net as possible in building an alliance toward that end! 

The motto of our country is "E Pluribus Unum,” which translates, "out of the many, one." May God's grace help us work in union with all people of good will to tackle this issue which has so divided us.