James D. Hogan

After

On September 11, 2026

I was a junior in college on September 11. Coming back to work at the university where I completed my undergraduate degree has brought plenty of déjà vu moments—not to mention the surreal feeling of seeing my children walk the sidewalks I once walked as a student—but today, twenty-five years after the attacks, I became aware that there was a lot of time and space between then and now.

All of it can be classified as after.

Just as there were on the fifth and tenth and twentieth anniversaries of that clear-blue Tuesday, today’s news has featured a parade of recollections, photos and videos just as fresh in my mind as they were a quarter century ago. There have been a few stories I hadn’t heard, new chapters to consider.

For the first time, there is a focus on the generation that was born and has come of age in the span of days since our national frame was shattered.

Between the Ditches

By James D. Hogan

On July 13, 2026

In diary

It happened faster than I thought.

After a long stint of what I can only describe as indifference toward completing driver’s ed classes, Julia suddenly lit a fire under herself, accumulated the requisite number of hours required to finish the online class, and found herself on the driving portion of the schedule. Then, she drove, and within three days’ time, she was holding a certificate declaring her eligible to earn her permit.

Which she did, hours after completing the driving portion of driver’s ed. Kelly let her drive home.

Soccer, vibe coding, and DadStats

By James D. Hogan

On May 26, 2026

In diary

Last summer, Julia and I drove to Bryson City for her first club soccer team practice. At the time, it felt like a huge moment–our daughter was a rising freshman, but in our minds she was still very much a middle schooler. And now, suddenly, I was dropping her off at a field an entire county away so she could go try out for a team with a bunch of high school kids.

Those high school kids looked decidedly older.

My nerves, my word, my nerves. Every sense of athletic inadequacy in my body welled up to see her jog out onto the pitch and start passing the ball around. What on earth are we doing here? I wondered.