September 11, 2026 Submitted By Glen Mangurian
Every now and then, an event in our lives—or in the life of our society—creates a memory that becomes indelible. Years later, we can still remember where we were, what we were doing, and sometimes even who we were with when the event occurred.
Twenty-five years ago, most of us could answer the question: Where were you when you learned that the planes had crashed into the Twin Towers? I had recently returned home from two months of rehabilitation at Boston Medical Center following my spinal cord injury. I was lying in a hospital bed in our Hingham living room when my wife told me what had happened. Like everyone else, I was shocked. But I also remember the strange juxtaposition of experiencing a national tragedy while I was already trying to make sense of a life that had suddenly and dramatically changed.
Similarly, on November 22, 1963, I was sitting in high school French class when we learned that President Kennedy had been shot. I don’t remember much about the French lesson, but I remember that moment. It was my first encounter with a national tragedy. The normal activities of school disappeared, replaced by confusion, disbelief, and a strong sense that something had changed.
Between those two events were other, more personal heartbreaks: the moment I became paralyzed, and decades before that the sudden death of my father are memories that time has not erased. In fact, some memories seem to become more vivid as the years pass.
Interestingly, many of the moments we remember most clearly are associated with negative events–things that happen suddenly, without warning, and alter our lives in ways we never anticipated. They disrupt the trajectory of our lives. One minute we are going about our day; the next, our world has changed. After 9/11, our sense of safety was replaced by a new awareness of our vulnerability.
As jarring as negative events are, there are also moments we remember because they brought extraordinary joy: the birth of a child, a wedding, a graduation, a great accomplishment, or simply an unexpected moment of happiness. We may not remember the mundane of every ordinary Tuesday, but we remember the times we stopped and said to ourselves, This is important. I will remember this.
What makes these moments so powerful? Perhaps it is because they give our lives important markers in time. We divide our memories into before and after. Before the accident. After Dad died. Before September 11. After September 11. Before the birth of a child. After becoming a parent. The event itself may last only seconds or minutes, but its meaning can remain with us for decades. I think of my paralysis ‘marker’ as the transition from Glenn 1.0 to Glenn 2.0.
There is another interesting thing about these memories. They often just happen. We don’t decide that a particular day will become one of the defining memories of our lives. At the time, we’re simply living it. They interrupt the ordinary rhythm of our lives. Only later do we find their meaning. A seemingly ordinary moment can acquire meaning because of what happened afterward.
Our lives are made up of countless ordinary days, but a handful of moments become permanent inflection points. They remind us where we came from, what we have endured, what we have lost, and what we have been fortunate enough to experience.
So perhaps the more interesting question isn’t only, Where were you when…?
It is also, What happened to you after that?
Because the event may be what we remember, but it is often what we do with the memory that shapes the person we become. I’ve learned that we are not defined solely by what happened to us, but by what we do afterward.
For me, becoming paralyzed marked the end of Glenn 1.0 and the beginning of Glenn 2.0. And surprisingly, Glenn 2.0 has allowed me to experience dreams I never knew I had.
What choices have you made because of the defining moments of your life?
Glenn Mangurian is a senior Hingham resident of 42 years. He welcomes your comments and can be reached at gmangurian@comcast.net