Scarsdale Honors Memory and Continuity on the 25th Anniversary of 9-11
- Monday, 14 September 2026 09:38
- Last Updated: Monday, 14 September 2026 09:47
- Published: Monday, 14 September 2026 09:38
- Joanne Wallenstein
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Scarsdale officials marked the 25th anniversary of the September 11 attacks with a solemn ceremony at the Public Safety Building at 8:30 am on 9-11-26. Reminiscent of the day of the event, it was a warm, clear September morning, Police, firefighters, religious leaders, members of the Village Board, School Board and Village staff all participated in a moving tribute to the almost 3,000 people who lost their lives on that day – and to more who suffered from 9-11 related illness in the subsequent years.
The event opened with music from the bag pipes, followed by a drill by the Scarsdale Color Guard. The ceremony was led by Fire Captain Francis Sheehan with remarks from Reverend Kelly Rogers, Rabbi Jonathan Blake and Scarsdale Mayor Justin Arest. Scarsdale High School vocalists Abigail Loeser sang The Star Spangled Banner and God Bless America, wreaths were presented and Sheila Gorham ended the ceremony with a mournful rendition of Danny Boy, accompanied by the guitar.
Here are remarks from Scarsdale Mayor Justin Arest and Fire Captain Francis Sheehan.
Mayor Justin Arest
Twenty-five years ago today, 2,977 people went to work, boarded airplanes, reported for duty, kissed their families goodbye, and never came home.
We gather first and foremost to remember them. We remember the lives that were taken, the families that were forever changed, and the countless empty places at dinner tables, birthdays, weddings and graduations that followed. And we remember the extraordinary courage of those who ran toward danger.
Firefighters climbed stairwells as others came down. Police officers, EMTs and ordinary citizens stayed behind to help strangers. Many knew the danger and went anyway.
And we remember those who survived that day but whose service and exposure ultimately cost them their lives in the years that followed.
To the first responders with us today, and to all those who serve our community: thank you.
What you are willing to do for people you may never have met represents something fundamental about who we are as a country.
For so many of us, September 11 is deeply personal. We remember where we were, what we saw, who we worried about, and the stories of that day that will stay with us for the rest of our lives.
But twenty-five years is a long time. Every child in our schools today was born after September 11, 2001.For them, September 11 is history rather than memory.
For us, that creates a solemn responsibility.
We must make sure they know what happened. We must tell them about the people we lost and the people who showed extraordinary courage. But we must also teach them something larger.
Freedom is not free.
The ability to live openly, to worship as we choose, to speak our minds, to disagree with one another, and still to remain one people is not guaranteed simply because we inherited it.
It can be lost.
The terrorists who attacked us twenty-five years ago sought not only to take innocent lives, but to attack our country, our freedoms, and our way of life.
So when we hear voices today that traffic in hatred and extremism, as we do, we cannot become accustomed to them, and we cannot be silent in the face of them.
September 11 showed us the terrible consequences of hatred and extremism. But it also reminded us why this country is worth defending: because in one of our darkest moments, we saw the extraordinary courage and decency of the American people.
On that terrible morning, people did not stop to ask one another about religion, politics, race or where their families came from. They helped one another. They carried strangers. They stayed behind.
Some gave their lives for people they did not know.
That is the America we inherited. And that is the America we must leave to those who come after us.
So today, we honor the dead. We honor those who ran toward danger. And we make a promise: that twenty-five years from now, and for generations after that, our children and their children will still remember those we lost, still know what happened, and still understand that the freedoms they inherited must never be taken for granted.
May we never forget.
Fire Captain Francis Sheehan
Twenty‑five years have passed since the attacks of September 11, 2001, a full quarter century. It is long enough for time to create distance, yet not long enough for the grief to loosen its hold. Many of us can still recall, with absolute clarity, where we were the moment the towers were struck. Those memories remain vivid, immediate, and unshakable.
But this milestone also reminds us how quickly generations turn. Last year, our department welcomed a firefighter born after 9/11. His presence is not a novelty; it is a marker of time. It signals that the responsibility to remember is shifting from those who lived through the day to those who know it only through the stories we preserve, through the vigils we hold.
Today, I reflect on the passing of time and on grief itself. What becomes of collective memory when it is carried not by experience, but by inheritance? Although a quarter century sounds distant, the visceral weight of grief and longing remains for many Americans.
Two years ago, at the Westchester County 9/11 service, I listened to families speak about loved ones lost on that day and loved ones lost in the years since to 9/11‑related illnesses. That very same week, I lost my wife and my mother in a separate tragedy. In an instant, I was no longer standing at the edge of others’ grief, I was living inside it.
Two years later, I know that time does not gradually purge grief. It silently shouts in the background, breaking into the foreground when you least expect it. An empathetic observer of grief remembers on anniversaries, on days like today. A bearer of grief carries it with them day in and day out, until their last breath.
In that grief, victims of 9/11 still walk among us twenty‑five years later. Their grief has not expired; it continues through them, and through all of us who gather here.
On this twenty‑fifth anniversary, we honor both memory and continuity. We honor those who remember, and those who carry the memory forward. We stand together, observers of grief, bearers of grief, and those who have inherited its lessons, united in ensuring that the meaning of this day endures.
Twenty‑five years later, the distance may grow, but the responsibility does not. We gather here to affirm that the lives lost, the sacrifices made, and the grief carried across generations will never be allowed to fade. Not while we are here to remember. Not while we are here to bear witness.
As we conclude today’s observance, we turn to a musical reflection that has long accompanied moments of remembrance. Danny Boy carries both sorrow and love in its melody, and today it honors the families who continue to bear their grief, and all who hold the memory of September 11th close. Please welcome our vocalist, Sheila Gorham, who will close our ceremony with Danny Boy.
