Twenty-five years ago, educators across our country went to work on what began as an ordinary Tuesday morning.

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Within hours, nothing about that day was ordinary.

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As the events of September 11, 2001 unfolded, teachers, school leaders, counselors, nurses, secretaries, custodians, bus drivers, and countless other members of our school communities suddenly faced responsibilities for which no handbook or emergency plan could fully prepare us.

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We were trying to understand what was happening ourselves while simultaneously doing what educators instinctively do: taking care of children.

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We worked to keep students physically safe. We tried to give reassurance and emotional security when we had very few answers of our own. We supported frightened colleagues. We communicated with families. We made difficult decisions with incomplete information. And, in communities personally touched by the attacks, we confronted the painful reality that some of the children entrusted to our care would not have a parent coming home that evening.

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For my colleagues who were educators that day, I suspect there are moments we will never forget.

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I know there are for me.

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I was a school district administrator at the time. I remember driving down the Garden State Parkway that beautiful September morning and actually calling my wife to comment on the extraordinary crystal-blue sky and how I was looking forward to a great day. Neither of us could have imagined how profoundly different that day would become.

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Then came 8:46 a.m.

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What followed - the uncertainty, the fear, the responsibility we felt for our students and families, and the extraordinary humanity demonstrated by educators, first responders, and ordinary people - has remained with me for 25 years.

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Recently, I tried to express some of those memories through music.

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That effort is part of a very personal project that began somewhat unexpectedly.

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Over the past few years, as I have moved into a less demanding stage of my professional life, I have had more time to return to my love for music, piano composition, and storytelling. I began investigating emerging AI-assisted music-production technologies and discovered they could help me bring melodies, words, and personal memories to life through song in ways that would not have been possible before.

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As educators continue to grapple with both the opportunities and challenges presented by rapidly developing AI technology, this has become, for me, one small but meaningful example of its positive potential.

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But the project itself began with my mother, Wendy.

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During the final months of her life, COVID separated us by something as simple, and as painful, as a window pane. She ultimately passed away from complications caused by COVID, and I found myself wanting to honor my mother and preserve that experience and what it meant to our family through music.

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The result was “Through Wendy’s Pane,” a metaphorical reflection on her life, as I came to understand it through our final moments together.

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That one song became another...and then another.

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I began writing about family, love, loss, growing older, my experiences as an educator, the places and people that influenced my life, and eventually my own American experience as our nation commemorates its 250th anniversary.

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Somewhere along the way, I realized these songs were becoming something I had never consciously set out to create: a musical legacy of my life’s experiences for my children and loved ones.

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What began simply as a personal passion, shared with family and friends, has now become 33 songs across four completed albums, with a fifth underway.

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I eventually gave this very personal project a pseudonym, CUSTODE. After considerable thought and research, I was drawn to the word for its association with a guardian or keeper - a meaning that resonated deeply with my mother’s story and with what the project had quietly become: not simply a way of preserving stories, experiences, and memories, but a reminder of our responsibility to care for and protect one another, and the people, principles, and freedoms we hold most dear.

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I also created this small website to share the music and stories and, hopefully, provide a place for something more meaningful: connection. Perhaps someone might hear a song and recognize a little of their own family, loss, love, childhood, career, country, or life journey within it - and perhaps feel encouraged to share a story of their own.

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I remain somewhat hesitant about sharing something this personal publicly. This was never conceived as a commercial endeavor or a new career. It began simply because I love music, enjoy composing simple melodies at the piano, enjoy writing and telling stories, and discovered that emerging technology could help me bring those interests together in a way I never would have imagined. Ultimately, it was the encouragement of family and friends - and the possibility that these stories might resonate with others and create a sense of connection - that persuaded me to share them more broadly.

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Which brings me back to September 11.

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One of those 33 songs is called “8:46.”

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I wrote it from my own perspective - not to attempt to tell the story of September 11 for others, but to preserve what I remember about that morning, what followed, and what the experience came to mean to me.

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Most importantly, as we commemorate the 25th anniversary, I want to dedicate it to my fellow educators and colleagues who cared for our children that day; to the first responders who ran toward unimaginable danger; and to the many individuals whose courage, compassion, service, sacrifice - and, for far too many, their lives - bring to mind the very best of our common humanity.

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To my colleagues in education who were there that morning: thank you.

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Thank you for protecting our children. For comforting them. For reassuring families. For supporting one another. And for somehow finding the strength to provide a sense of safety and normalcy on a day when the situation around us seemed anything but normal.
 

“8:46” is my attempt, through music, to preserve one person's memories of that day and to honor those whose actions gave meaning to words such as courage, service, compassion, and sacrifice.

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For those who wish to experience it, the song is available above. I have also included an optional commemorative video below - a visual interpretation created to accompany the music and the memories behind it.

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There is certainly no expectation that anyone listen or watch.

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I wanted to share this particular story with the professional community that has been such an important part of my life - and, most especially, to honor those who carried the responsibility of caring for our children on that unforgettable September day.

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For all who remember that crystal-blue September sky, may we never forget those we lost, those who served, those who sacrificed, and those who helped us find our way forward.

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We remember. And we rise again.​​​