In Memory of Brian Sweeney

It’s been twenty years, you know. Twenty years today. September 11, 2001.

Many who will read this post hadn’t been born yet when this tragic event happened. To me, it was as if it were yesterday.

Just after the plane, the plane Brian was on, crashed into the second tower, my mother was over his parent's house doing whatever friends do during times like these. Brian's mother was on the phone with the FBI most of the time as she relayed information that Brian had given her about the hijackers (this is where his military training took over).

With his mother’s permission a day after the event, I wrote a piece for the local paper honoring Brian. Before submitting, I asked his mother to review what I had written . The original version had Brian as an observer. While his mother could not give me details, she asked me to take that part out. "He did not do as he was told" was her reply. I grew up with Brian. I knew exactly what she meant. She approved of my final version.

During the hijacking, Brian called his wife, Julie. She didn't answer, so he left her a voice message. That is the message that is played at the 911 Memorial Museum and is often printed, in part, whenever 911 remembrances are held.

Every Christmas evening since 911, after everything starts to slow down, I think of the Sweeneys, who used to come over Christmas evenings so many years ago for dessert. Brian, when he was home from the Navy, and after he was discharged, would tell stories of flying the F-14 Tomcats and of playing chicken with the Russian MIG pilots. He explained it wasn't really about the US vs Russia. It was about pilot vs pilot, all of whom had super type A personalities. All alpha dog stuff. Alpha dogs with attitudes on steroids type of stuff.

Christmas evening, dessert, beer. The stories often went well into the night. We couldn’t hear enough of them.

Twenty years ago.

And those of us who were around then still tell the stories - of Brian in his Viking helmet, the automatic transmission he put in a surplus WW II Willys Jeep (probably the only WiIlys in the world with an automatic transmission), the VW Bug he painted orange with cans and cans and cans of Rustoleum spray paint…

Tim

Just one point of clarification. In the copy of the commentary it states I was a former staff member of the Spencer New Leader. I wrote numerous commentaries for them at one point, but I was never on the staff, office-wise, payroll-wise, or even Let's invite Loftus to the Christmas party-wise. Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable gig for me at that time.