From the Editor-In-Chief

September 11th, 2001, began as a typical weekday morning for the Mahanes family in New York City. Dave was already headed to midtown to his office on the subway, Jack, who had turned three the week before, was on his way to preschool in his stroller with our nanny Curlene, and I was home on the sofa with Charlie, then four months, where he had a bottle, and we were tuned into The Today Show. Suddenly, at 8:46 AM, chaos ensued, and seventeen minutes later, in real-time, Katie Couric fielded a call from Janice Huff, our local weatherperson, who was home that day, reporting that there was a second plane—it is amazing the small things that one remembers, even after twenty-plus years.

Immediately, my maternal instinct kicked in to reel back in the family members who were outside our apartment. Unfortunately, cell phone technology was not what it is now, and phone signals were jammed, making touching base impossible for hours. Fortunately, soon after, Jack and Curlene were back safe since his school day had not yet begun, and they had been sent home. Finding Dave was a bit more challenging. He eventually walked the 50+ blocks north after his office was called back, not once but twice, when it was determined that Grand Central Station and its surrounding area were no longer a target.

Spectacular double rainbow at Covenant Presbyterian Church on April 14, during their first chapel service since March.

When my family in Connecticut and Dave’s in Nashville were able to get a hold of us much later in the day, we realized that Manhattan was indeed an island, and we assured them that we were safe and had no choice but to stick it out by staying put. Dave and I went to the roof of our building that night, and from 30 stories up, we could see a gigantic cloud of smoke and debris emanating from eight miles away where The World Trade Center towers once stood. That same physical and psychological cloud loomed overhead for what seemed like weeks.

In the period following, New York changed. More specifically, New Yorkers changed. We brought cookies to our local firehouse, which had lost eight of its first responders, and the boys were greeted with hugs and smiles for our efforts to help, however small. I started to get help through doorways with a double stroller (not a common occurrence), and there was noticeably more eye contact and even smiles from strangers than we had ever experienced. The knowing glances were because we had experienced and survived something tragic together.

March 27th, 2023, was another sunny and typical weekday for Nashvillians. Having something so tragic happen so close to home brought back many of the same feelings of helplessness. Yet, living in the Volunteer State and witnessing our circling of the wagons to support one another has been awe-inspiring. Our pride for the “first first” responders inside Covenant School and first responders from Metro Nashville Police collectively preventing a more significant tragedy will forever set the bar for heroism.

The immediate embracing of Covenant School’s whole community through meal chains, red and black mailbox ribbons, the incredible memorial at the gates to Covenant Presbyterian, and grass-roots fundraisers are only the beginning of celebrating the lives of the six taken too soon. The spectacular benefit concert at Belmont’s Fisher Center was organized in record time, and the creation of Covenant Heals has made a remarkable impression on me about the resilience of the human spirit. Please read about this incredible collaboration on page 23. We know that Nashvillians by nature have each other’s backs when the going gets tough, and out of the ashes our naturally nurturing volunteer spirit will prevail.

Melissa Mahanes, Editor-in-Chief melissa@slmag.net