My reflections on the anniversary of 9/11 feel trivial in comparison to those of people who were there – at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, in New York or Washington, D.C., on the planes or any plane once the news broke … and of course the thousands of lives lost and the broken-hearted they left behind. I’m sure 25 years has not made the anguish of those memories any less painful for those who experienced terror, despair or worked tirelessly to help.
All I know is that my own heart breaks every year, and this anniversary is no different. Except this year, the stories are more prominent, more visible – and ultimately more intensified rather than softened with the passage of time.
Again, my story is a small one, far removed from the actual events. Everyone has a story, and I strongly urge you to seek out the stories of the survivors, the helpers and the grieving who were personally impacted by that day. People are posting them online, sharing what they lived through, remembering loved ones they lost, describing what it was like being there on that day. Those are the stories to lift up. It’s not hard to find them and I hope you will. But sharing my own story is my way of honoring their experiences.
I was initially oblivious that day, or at least I thought I was. I was in the midst of morning meditation when a friend who had recently passed away crossed my mind. Suddenly, I began to cry. These things happen in meditation, so I didn’t think much of it. But when I finished my meditation the phone rang and a friend told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I said, “What a terrible accident! How very sad. I hope people in the building got out.” At first most of us assumed it was a terrible accident, but we quickly learned it was an intentional act when the second plane hit.
What’s notable about my tears during meditation is that, when I looked back, I realized I began to cry at the same time the first plane hit. I’m not saying I have any sort of special abilities. But I do believe in the power of the universe and I am convinced I felt the immense shift in energy that came to engulf the entire world – not just that day or that week, but undoubtedly forever. America and the world will never be the same.
It’s a little embarrassing to admit that because I didn’t turn on the TV right away and was only watching reports online, at first I didn’t fully grasp just how devastating it all was. Of course, I later turned on the TV and saw the buildings tumbling down, the people in the streets running from the debris – covered in dust from the rubble and destruction, literally coating their bodies in the powder of everything the buildings’ collapse blew into the air. I’ve since learned from those who lived in New York that the smell of that airborne dust lingered for days, if not weeks.
As the day went on, the stories of heroism and kindness slowly began to emerge in the midst of the horror, probably because as humans we needed some hope. I experienced some of them myself. A friend who had never said “I love you” said it that day, fearing the building he worked in could be a target. People from around the world checked in on each other. When it became clear that none of us would do any work the rest of the day, I went into town to run an errand. Silly, when I look back, but I didn’t know what else to do with myself. At that point we still didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I knew I could not watch the TV any longer.
Walking through the deserted downtown of my small city, the few people I encountered were in a daze, like I was. The woman at the store I stopped in was quiet but warm. I bought my item but then stood there and talked with her for a good 30 minutes. I think we just needed to connect with another person, at any level. We all felt lost. And we knew the losses were only beginning.
I’d had plans for that evening but I canceled them. I didn’t have the heart to go out to dinner for the birthday I had coming up. It just didn’t seem right. So I stayed home and returned to the TV, trying to make sense of what had happened, which I still haven’t been able to do, despite knowing the facts, all these years later.
As I said, my reflections seem insignificant compared to those of people who were directly affected. But then again, we have all been touched by what happened – even people who weren’t born yet have been, because the world changed forever that day, and I don’t just mean things like airport security. We are now more painfully aware than we were before of the depths of hate that some people feel and will act on.
I want to be very, very clear: What happened that day was not caused by all Muslims, and I never once blamed anyone who wasn’t a perpetrator of the brutal attack that day. It’s a lesson many people still haven’t learned, so my heart goes out to innocent Muslims as much as it does to the victims and their loved ones.
Although I will never forget the horror, I try to remember the helpers – just like Mister Rogers said we should do in times like these. The first responders, many who came in on their days off and others who traveled from around the country to help. The New Yorkers far enough from Ground Zero who offered shelter to people displaced from their homes in those first days. In particular, I think of the people of Gander, Newfoundland, and other places in Canada, who took in thousands of passengers whose planes were forced to land there when the U.S. airspace closed. The story of Gander is told in the musical Come From Away, which shines a light on the enormous kindness that was extended there in response to a devastating tragedy.
Come From Away reminds us that no matter how deeply terrible the world can be, there are always good-hearted people … and there is always hope. There are countless productions of the show being presented around the country right now, and a filmed production of the original Broadway cast is on Apple TV+. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to do so as a comforting reminder of all the good that can come when we work together instead of against each other.
I will never forget that day or the people who suffered – nor the goodness that rose from the literal ashes. I will always honor it in my heart, even though I do it through tears every single year.
As I said from the start, my story is a very small one compared to the stories of those who lived through that day in some way, and I dearly hope you will seek out their recollections. Those are the stories that matter most, even though anyone who was alive that day has a story, and they’re all valid.
May those who are hurting find peace in whatever way they can. And may we all try to be just a little kinder, a little more helpful, a little more understanding of each other, finding our commonalities rather than looking for differences. We are all in this world together, and there is far more good than there is bad, if we are willing to look for it. Even more important, each of us can do our part to bring more goodness into the world and our communities, in ways large and small.
Photos by Amy Lynn Smith.
As I reflect on the milestone of earning my master’s degree, I’ve been asking myself: “How will you use what you know?”
After receiving my Master of Arts in Mass Communication with a specialization in Public Interest Communication from the University of Florida — which I’m proud to say awarded me Graduation with Distinction honors — those words written by Wendy Wasserstein for her play The Heidi Chronicles keep rolling around in my head. Others are asking me similar questions: “What’s next?” “What did you learn?” “How has earning your degree changed how you approach your work?”
That last question is as intriguing as Wasserstein’s. And it led me to remember another line from The Heidi Chronicles, in which I played Heidi many years ago: “All people deserve to fulfill their potential.” I could not agree more — and it’s a good way to describe my intention for how I will use what I know.
This isn’t to say I wasn’t fulfilling my potential. I already specialized in Public Interest Communication for clients doing meaningful work, such as the United Nations, the American Foundation for the Blind, Spitfire Strategies, the W.K. Kellogg Foundation and many more over the years. As one colleague and friend told me, “You’re a Swiss Army knife,” which was his creative way of saying I am a highly versatile communicator. My work includes strategic storytelling, messaging strategy and execution, content creation such as blog posts and human-interest profiles, issue campaign development and delivery, writing and speaker coaching, editing and more.
I enrolled in the Public Interest Communication program’s inaugural semester in 2019 and it took me until 2023 to earn my degree. Because I work full time as a consultant, I mostly took one course per semester. I learned that many other returning students did the same. And I discovered that my years of professional and personal experience enriched my learning.
Without question, the program expanded my expertise. I not only learned more about topics I’m familiar with, such as storytelling and creating an issue advocacy campaign. I also dove into new realms I’d heard about, such as value propositions and design thinking, but had never explored. Particularly in the latter course, I learned a great deal about myself, too.
Because of that course, I now ask myself periodically, “How’s it going?” It’s a strategy taken from the book Designing Your Life: How to Build a Well-Lived, Joyful Life that was engagingly taught, and I still periodically check in on my life. Is it going in the direction I want it to? Am I spending more time on things I love and less time on things I don’t? The answer is generally yes. And when it’s not, I pause to redesign my life accordingly.
It’s intriguing that the willingness to change course in my own life — to try something new, to ditch something old or improve on it — is also serving my work and my clients well. Of course, I now have master’s-level abilities in my field. But the way my work has transformed is about more than simply sharpening my skills.
I look at my work differently now. I recognize opportunities to recommend unique or better approaches. I use my diverse creative skills to imagine and create more impactful communications. I’m exploring new ways to work, not just with my clients but in collaboration with colleagues. I’m discovering how to be more efficient and productive. I still work hard — perhaps even harder sometimes, because jobs that use my thought leadership skills are more complex — but I’m definitely working smarter.
I was already fulfilling my potential. But as I move forward after graduation I know that potential is greater than it was. I can — and am eager to — raise the level of the potential I intend to fulfill. That means stretching myself, accepting sometimes daunting challenges and meeting them. That means saying “yes” to projects that feed my soul and, whenever possible, saying “no” to those that don’t.
Most important, I’m more inspired than ever to make a difference in the world — to make sure everyone has an opportunity to thrive. After all, everyone deserves to fulfill their potential. And doing everything I can to make that possible for myself and others is the answer to the big question: How will you use what you know?
As a storyteller, I thrive on helping people tell their stories — and that work is not confined to the written word. I embrace every opportunity to provide speaker coaching services, because it means helping people present the best version of themselves and the stories they want and need to tell.
Although I offer this service for a fee, I sometimes do it purely for the love of speaker coaching. Not only does it apply my extensive communication and storytelling skills, it gives me a chance to flex my muscles in theatrical directing, which I did for many years.
Of course, presenting public remarks isn’t quite the same as playing a role onstage. Speakers are putting themselves out there, with no character to hide behind. So it’s no wonder that some people are terrified of public speaking. Heck, even after decades of acting and public speaking I still get nervous before I go onstage. But there’s really nothing to fear, especially if you have a speaker coach to offer tips and insights that help you shape your presentation. When I presented a talk at the 2020 frank gathering of public interest communicators, I was grateful for input from fellow coaches and theatre friends. (You can find some of my other public speaking appearances here.)
Early on, I had a coach who encouraged my public speaking, and my coaching style is informed both by what I learned from the late, great Joel Silberman and my theatrical experience. Every speaker coach has their own approach — and every speaker deserves coaching tailored to their unique needs. I’ve worked with people who have never given a public talk, people who have given TED Talks before I worked with them and everything in between. I meet each speaker where they are, and there’s no end to the kinds of advice that can be helpful to any given speaker. Perhaps they need tips on stage presence or simply the confidence that what they’re doing is really good, although even the best talk can be sharpened by a fresh perspective. Or maybe they need help shaping and refining their content and slides. Like any good story, a public talk should have a beginning, middle and end, and it should draw the audience into the speaker’s world.
I’m proud to have served as lead speaker coach for the frank gathering for so many years I’ve lost count. That role means not only coaching some of the speakers but also offering logistical and coaching advice to my esteemed fellow coaches. That’s work I do almost entirely for the love of speaker coaching (and frank), as a pro bono service. At the 2023 gathering, I also had the pleasure of presenting a workshop entitled, “Get Ready for Your Next Public Speaking Engagement.” I was honored that fellow frank speaker coaches Mark Dessauer and Iman Zawahry joined me.
We began by sharing our own favorite tips for public speaking, and I learned from hearing how they work with speakers. In addition to my tips — let your true self shine and trust yourself; be confident — their tips reinforced the importance of structuring your talk for the greatest impact (there’s storytelling again), engaging with your audience and, whenever possible, including a personal story.
Then we broke into three groups and gave individual coaching to people who brought a talk they were working on. In my case, one participant had a piece that was already beautifully written and nicely presented. But there’s always room for improvement. It’s hard to describe the satisfaction that comes from offering some concrete suggestions (after giving kudos for what’s working well), seeing the “lightbulb moment” in a speaker’s eyes — and then watching them take that input and soar. This participant only needed some minor tweaks: consider pausing here, or emphasizing that word, or showing us more emotion in this section. Every time she rehearsed her short piece again, it got better and better.
It’s always a thrill to coach speakers at frank and others I’ve worked with, and although speaker coaches never tell who they’ve coached, I am grateful for the speakers who have publicly thanked me for my efforts. But I always remind speakers that it’s really all them. They are the ones with an idea they’re passionate enough about to present in front of an audience, and they are the ones who step into the spotlight to share their thoughts.
The way I look at it, I’m there to help them be the best possible version of themselves, offering whatever guidance I think they need and want to hear.
Interested in my speaker coaching services? Please contact me and let’s talk!
Photo credits: Top image unknown; bottom image Anne Savage Photography.
