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0:08 [applause] >> Did you know the buffalo is one of the only animals that run into a storm? Where most animals try to run away from a storm and avoid it, the buffalo charge directly into it. And because of that, they get through it much quicker. There is wisdom to be learned from the buffalo. I know that now. Years ago, I walked into my house after a full day of teaching and coaching high school students. My wife greeted me with a kiss and then a request. "Will you call your brother?" "I'm exhausted. I'll call him next week, maybe this weekend."
0:54 She finally came clean and just said, "Hey, he called you earlier today. Will you call him back, please?" So, I did. My brother had been married just over a year and he and his wife were calling to tell me they were expecting their first child. I was absolutely thrilled for them. And even though I was a younger brother, I'd been married for a few years and we had our first child recently, so my brother had a lot of questions. Questions about first steps, sleepless nights, how do you pick a name? Is it really as hard as everyone says it is? It was a beautiful conversation with between brothers and I am so glad
1:39 that my wife encouraged me to have that conversation. It is particularly special to me as it's also the last time I ever spoke to my brother. This conversation took place on September 6th, 2001. The following Tuesday started like a typical Tuesday. My brother headed into work on the 89th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center. He was an equities trader. And he arrived early enough to be prepared for the opening bell on Wall Street. I headed into my high school a little bit earlier than normal to set my classroom up for a department meeting with about 10 of my social studies colleagues. At 8:46 a.m.
2:25 a plane flew into the North Tower. Seemingly by accident. My brother called out immediately and just said, "Hey, you're going to see this on the news. It's the other tower. I'm completely fine. You won't believe what I'm seeing from my windows, but I'm completely fine." 17 minutes later a second plane flies into the South Tower. My brother's tower. And I, like so many of you, remember that exact moment. That realization that this was no accident. But instead a deliberate attack. My brother called out again.
3:11 This time getting my parents voicemail saying, "Okay, that time it was my building. I am okay, but I don't know what the heck is going on. It is chaos in here and I have to do everything I can to get out." And even though I'm watching the coverage on TV and I knew my brother was in there, I wasn't overly concerned. If anyone's going to get out of there, it's going to be him. Probably carrying someone up on his shoulder. You see, my brother was a large, athletic, driven, fierce competitor. There's no way that this is how his story ends. And besides,
3:56 don't things like this just happen to other people? You know, we did actually try to hold our social studies meeting that morning, but most of our attention was on the TV in the corner of the room. And after a few minutes, I just kind of had enough. I needed to get into my office, make some phone calls, and learn all I could. I stepped in there, and I tried to call my brother, and it just rang and rang and rang. I was able to connect with my dad and talk to him for a few minutes. I checked some voicemails, and then I just sat there for a minute collecting my thoughts, just taking in the magnitude of the day. This was a historic event, and somehow my brother was right in the middle of it.
4:43 I tried to call him again, but this time, there was no ringing. There was no dial tone. There was no error message. It was just silence. I assumed I'd misdialed. So, I tried again. Silence. Something's not right. I walked back to my classroom, but now all my colleagues were huddled around the TV with concerned looks on their faces. Clearly, our meeting was now over. And the image on the screen had changed. Gone were those blue clear skies that we had seen, and lower Manhattan was now full of smoke and debris. I simply asked, "Did his tower fall?"
5:31 One of my colleagues, Shawn, just turned her head back towards me and nodded. Yes. 56 minutes after impact, the South Tower, my brother's tower, had collapsed. And for the first time all morning, I was overcome with fear, with confusion, helplessness. I decided to head home as I knew I wouldn't be able to focus much on teaching for the day. And when I got home, I just remember holding my wife and baby daughter close as all these thoughts circled in my head. How many planes are there?
6:18 Who did this? Is this some kind of declaration of war? And where is my brother? I then positioned myself directly in front of the TV. I thought, "If I could just stand here all day, maybe I'll see him walk by or being wheeled by into into a hospital in a wheelchair." So, I wasn't just watching the coverage, I was searching for my brother. So, I stood there all day searching. As day gave way to night, still no news. I knew I needed to sleep, but sleep felt like giving up on him, and that wasn't an option. About 2:30 in the morning, I finally
7:03 shut down the computer, and I just wandered around my house. And it was in that quiet where some of the thoughts I'd been trying to avoid all day rattled around in my brain. My brother is either unconscious in a hospital, trapped under the rubble, or he's gone. Or else we would have heard something by now right? All of those possibilities were just un- bearable. And I lost it. I literally pulled myself into a bathroom and shut the door to not wake up my wife and daughter. And I sobbed alone in that cold dark bathroom not
7:50 knowing where my brother was. You know that emotional release actually allowed me to fall asleep for a few hours. And then early that next morning back again in front of the TV search I never saw him. No one did. He was gone. My brother 31 years old and a proud father to be was now one of the 2,977 victims of 9/11. You know, for months I ran from this storm.
8:37 Avoidance became my coping mechanism. I tried to just stay busy so I didn't have to think about it or feel it. I walked around defeated and just hung my head. I thought I was highly dysregulated jumping emotion to emotion. I would feel alone even when I was in a room surrounded by people that loved and cared for me. And then on a random cold windy April day in 2002 on my way to baseball practice a thought washed over me. It wasn't a clear audible voice but it was clear instructions. Enough. Pick your head up.
9:22 You are not defeated. I want to be clear I was not healed in that moment. Was not done grieving. I don't even think I'd started the grieving process yet. But I realized something. If I wanted to be able to honor my brother, if I wanted to ever be able to live life fully again, and be the husband, the father, the leader, the person I knew I could be, it was time for me to turn and face this storm. It was time for me to become the buffalo. Cuz you see, strength doesn't come from avoiding pain. Strength comes from walking through it.
10:11 I realized that in an attempt to heal, I was pursuing comfort. I would sleep in as late as I could each day. I would lay around on the couch all weekend. I would overeat, abuse alcohol, and none of it worked. But none of that ever works. Instead of pursuing comfort, it was time for me to pursue capacity. I had to learn how to heal. You know, we're used to this with physical pain, right? When we have an injury, we ice, we heat, we change our exercise, we stretch. But for some reason, when it comes to emotional pain, we just endure it. It was time for me to get proactive with my mental health. So, I completely overhauled my morning
10:57 routine. Started first with silence. It was there that in the prayer, in the stillness that I was able to calm my brain down. And combat all those negative thoughts that were rattling around before the needs of the day took over. Then, I read. Anything that would help me understand what's going on inside me, or make sense of the world around me, or inspire me. And then I moved. Exercise became foundational to my mental health journey. When I can break a sweat and feel those endorphins going, I am a completely different person, more energetic, more positive, more intentional, more
11:43 prepared for my day. You know, none of those actions erased the grief, but they prepared me to face it. And over time, I developed the capacity and the strength to carry what life had handed me. You'll notice I didn't say set down what life had handed me, or avoid what life had handed me. I developed the capacity to carry what life had handed me. And slowly, I became an even better version of myself than I was before this storm. Psychologists call this post-traumatic
12:30 growth, >> [snorts] >> that you can emerge stronger from trauma or tragedy if you commit to doing that hard internal introspective work, and you find answers to life's toughest questions about the meaning of life, your purpose, how you can impact others. You know, having carried this for over two decades, here's what I know to be true. Storms in your life are inevitable. And getting through them will take a lot of hard work. I won't pretend otherwise. And your storms will change who you are. But how they change you,
13:17 that is up to you. Your storm does not have to define you. Famous psychiatrist Carl Young says it best. I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become. That quote became my mantra. And it lifted me up out of so many dark days. You know that baby that Brent called me about years ago? She graduated from Columbia where she played volleyball. She just finished her second master's degree. And she's getting ready to start work on her doctorate.
14:02 His widow who was sitting alongside him on that phone call, she started a foundation in 2003 to support children with autism and their families. And she called it the Brent Woodall Foundation for Exceptional Children. And it is still going strong today. That is what hope looks like. That is what choosing how your storms will change you looks like. I know Brent would be tremendously proud of both of them. I know I sure am. You know, a few months after September 11th,
14:48 we had a service for my brother and my sister needed song recommendations for a slideshow. Pretty quickly, I said the Boxer by Simon & Garfunkel. And I wanted it because of that final verse that talks about the fighter. That even with all the knockdowns and the cuts and the bruises, the fighter remains in the fight. You know, I thought my brother was always a fighter. And even gone, his memory, his legacy, his presence can still remain. But it wasn't until recently when I looked at those lyrics, I realized that song's not just about my brother.
15:34 That song is about me. That song is about many of you. We are the fighters that choose to remain. Even with all our scars and imperfections and our self-doubt, we stand back up and we remain in the fight. I have learned to rebuild hope. I have learned the value of turning and facing my storms. I am not stronger because my brother died. I am stronger because I changed my habits, I reflect daily on my mindset, and I have built unwavering resilience
16:20 one small decision at a time. I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become. You are not what happened to you. You are what you choose to become. Thank you. >> [applause]
