September 11, 2001 changed the course of our lives and our work. In this special episode of The Jeff Robertson Show, I sit down with my friend and former colleague, John Hoover, to remember that day, to honor the people we lost, and to share what it felt like to serve while the world shifted beneath our feet.
This is not a history lesson. It is a lived memory, told by two guys who put on a uniform, answered the phone, and did the next right thing.
Where We Were When It Began
On the morning of September 11, John was asleep after a late shift. His mom called and told him to turn on the news. He watched the first tower smoke. Then he watched the second plane hit. He knew in that instant the world had changed.
I was at home too. A friend woke me with a call and said, “Turn on the TV. Something is happening in New York.” Minutes later the second impact confirmed our worst fear. I remember the light coming through the window, the exact feel of the remote in my hand, and the shock that ran through me as the second tower burned on live TV. Those tiny details never leave.
Within minutes the pagers lit up. Phones rang. We threw on clothes and moved. John reported downtown to stage with his tactical team. I headed to our office to connect with my task force partners. None of us had all the facts. We had enough to act.
The Longest Morning
As the morning unfolded, the timeline etched itself into us. First impact at 8:46 a.m. Then the second at 9:03 a.m. Soon after, reports came in from the Pentagon. Then a crash in Pennsylvania. We did not have social feeds or high-def streams. We had a handful of live shots, radios, and the same stunned anchors everyone else watched.
John was assigned to secure the airport. The skies went silent. No contrails. No takeoffs. No landings. He remembers how eerie that felt, like the soundtrack of daily life had been muted.
Back at our office we watched the South Tower fall. I can still feel my stomach drop. I grabbed my keys and headed to our city office to get to work. We did what we could where we were. We checked critical sites. We shored up weak ones. We followed leads. We tried to give our community a sense of safety while the country steadied itself.
Small Moments That Still Matter
That week was full of strange and sobering moments. John remembers a woman from Turkey who had been stranded by the shutdown of air travel. She told him, kindly and clearly, “Your country is about to change forever.” She was right.
He also answered a suspicious vehicle call near the airport. The car had out-of-state plates and a scraped flight school decal. The FBI took it from there. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Either way, it reminded us that attention to small details can be a form of service too.
Months later, John traveled with a group to New York for the funeral of a Port Authority police dog found beneath the rubble. Firefighters escorted them to a viewing platform where families stood. He described the recovery site as a vast, silent wound. Acts of honor and care surrounded it.
What We Remember About That Week
We remember how quickly people found a way to help.
- Boat captains ferried thousands off lower Manhattan in a spontaneous boatlift that rivals any in our history.
- When planes diverted to Newfoundland, local families opened their homes and hearts to stranded travelers for days.
- In every town, folks stood in line to donate blood, food, and supplies.
We also remember how the country felt on September 12. Flags in windows. Strangers holding doors. First responders treated like family. For a time, it felt like we were one team. We can disagree about policy. We can still choose unity when it matters.
How Service Looks On Days Like That
Not every response is dramatic. Sometimes the most valuable work is simple and steady. Standing a post at an airport. Checking a courthouse. Watching a school door. Making eye contact with people who are afraid and letting them see that someone is there on purpose.
That week, leadership looked like presence. You do your job. You do not add confusion. You keep one another honest. And you carry the weight together, because nobody should carry it alone.
Lessons That Stayed With Us
1) Presence before pressure.
In emergencies, the first gift you can offer is calm. This applies to leaders in business and public service alike. Slow your breathing. Confirm the facts. Then move.
2) Pay attention to small things.
The big picture often hinges on tiny details. A decal on a windshield. A door that should be locked. A pattern that does not fit. Curiosity can save lives.
3) Prepare when it is quiet.
The middle of a crisis is not the time to learn your plan. Build relationships with partners. Train your team. Walk the routes. Test the radios. Preparation is a form of respect.
4) Honor the cost.
Many did not come home. Many who did still carry that day in their minds and bodies. If you know a first responder, a service member, or a family who lost someone, reach out. A simple message can mean more than you think.
Why We Keep Telling The Story
We tell it because memory fades when we let it. We tell it because our kids learned about 9/11 from a textbook blurb, not from the way the sky looked that morning or the weight of silence when the planes stopped. We tell it because remembering well is part of how we honor the people who ran toward the fire and the people who never made it home.
We also tell it because there is hope in the story. The hope is not in the footage of buildings falling. It is in the footage of people rising. It is in the strangers who became neighbors in an instant. It is in the quiet acts that did not make the news yet made a difference.
How To Participate In Remembrance
- Call someone who served that day and say thank you.
- Share where you were and what you remember with your family.
- Fly a flag or light a candle.
- Support a vetted nonprofit that cares for 9/11 first responders and their families.
- Take five minutes for silence at 8:46 a.m. local time.
Small actions keep memory alive.
A Final Word
John and I are grateful we could share our perspective. We are also grateful for the countless people who did more, who gave more, and who still carry the heaviest parts of that day. We see you. We honor you. We will not forget.
If this conversation resonated with you, share it with someone you love. And if you served that day in any capacity, feel free to leave your story in the comments. Your voice matters.
Never forget.
