The boy grew up on Long Island, surrounded by one brother and seven sisters. Whenever there was an event in the home to which the guys weren’t invited, his dad took the boys out to McArthur Airport, where they watched the planes takeoff and land.
The boy loved those times, and the idea of flying; he often dreamed of doing it himself one day. That day would come early on, when he was but 16, and completed his first solo flight.
His name was Leroy Homer, Jr., and when he was accepted to the US Air Force Academy, he already had a private pilot license.
After graduation, Homer flew C-141s in Desert Shield and Desert Storm, and received commendations for flying humanitarian operations over the dangerous skies of Somalia. He would achieve the rank of Captain and later a Major after he entering the Air Force Reserves.
Then in 1995, United Airlines hired Homer. That was the same year he went on what he called his “3,000-mile blind date” with Melodie Thorpe, who’d been introduced to him by friends. Thorpe was from California, and when Homer told her he’d meet her at The Los Angeles airport, she asked how she’d recognize him. He replied, “Easy: I’ll have on the pilot’s uniform.”
Two years later, the couple got engaged; they married in 1998. Daughter Laurel came along in 2000.
Homer and Melodie adventured together, packing in trips to Tahiti, Bora Bora, Greece, and London. Whenever he was at the controls during those trips, he always had one question for her: “How was my landing?”
Maybe you can see where this is leading – to those same places everything seemed to lead to in this country on Sept. 11, 2001.
On that morning, United Airlines Flight 93 had 44 people on board. Five of them were flight attendants and two were pilots. One of the pilots was a young man who used to love watching planes takeoff and land with his dad and brother on Long Island.
There were also four terrorists on board who called themselves al-Qaeda.
The pilots had received messages from United Airlines dispatch that said, “Beware of cockpit intrusion. 2 ac [aircraft] have hit the wtc.” Melodie also sent a message to her husband via the cockpit computer system.
When the terrorists got into the cockpit, the traffic control center in Cleveland could hear the voices of Homer and Captain Jason Dahl cry out “Mayday!” They also heard violent sounds of a struggle.
According to the official transcripts of the cockpit voice recorder from the flight, the hijacking took place 46 minutes after takeoff, and the plane turned toward Washington, DC. It was later determined the plane was headed for the US Capitol. Thanks to the bravery of many passengers, it never got there.
KM and I were flying home this month on 9/11. Before we took off from Houston, our pilot came out of the cockpit, took the microphone and asked us to please give a moment of silence for a man who had been a classmate of his at the United States Air Force Academy in the late 1980s. Then he said, “Please remember my friend Leroy Homer, and all of those like him who gave so much 13 years ago today.” As he told us a little about his fallen friend, a solemn silence came over us all. We applauded when he finished, but the cabin remained quiet for some time after.
It was Martin Luther King, Jr. who said “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”
Remember 9/11.
Sources: The Leroy W. Homer Jr. Foundation and the Pittsburgh Post Gazette
Jay Edwards is editor-in-chief of the Hamilton County Herald and an award-winning columnist.
Contact him at jedwards@dailydata.com