Recording Moments that Mark History: Charlie Kirk and Much More
I did not plan to write this column. I don’t know yet what it might be. But, I think it cannot be denied that this past week—the week that included September 10 and September 11, 2025—was marked by moments that history will remember. How do we respond to or pass on our responses to such moments?
It was a week marked by the horror of a gunshot, and then an avalanche of grief. Of pain. Of confusion over the public death of Charlie Kirk.
It was a week in which memorials were held to recall the day of September 11, 2001—a day on which thousands died and millions mourned. A day that was also marked by bloodshed and violence.
For this week’s “Family History in Focus,” let’s allow ourselves some personal reflections on “moments that mark history” and how they do or don’t show up in what we pass on to others.
This Charlie Kirk Moment
Often, unexpected moments in history surprise us, shock us, or bring us to an overwhelming sense of both the highs and lows of our human world. I think that this past week can aptly be described as a “Charlie Kirk Moment” in history. Many did not know of him. Now, clearly, they know something of him and the path that led to the dark moments of September 10, 2024.
I did not know much of Charlie Kirk. But, suddenly, on Wednesday, the phone of a friend buzzed with information, and the breaking news of this young man’s death exploded across the world. And, very quickly, this moment became personal to me. Why—if I did not know him or know much of him?
Because I grew up in the small city of Orem, Utah—the location of this dramatic event. Because my daughter is a student at Utah Valley University—the focal point of this sad death. And, because friends and colleagues I know well and respect teach at Utah Valley University, their whole intent is to uplift, enlighten, and engage the young minds and bright faces that populate their halls and classes. I knew immediately that what happened, an act of senseless political violence, did not reflect the hearts and minds of so many good people I know in that community—and yet suddenly, without warning or expectation, they were placed in the spotlight of history.
My feelings for much of the week were sober. I talked to a dear older friend after several days about the events of Charlie Kirk’s death. We shared some of our feelings and thoughts. He spoke of working his mind through the unexpected grief that burst upon him at the death of this young man—also little known to him. And, he spoke quietly and movingly about his prayers, his pleas for better understanding, and the quiet whispering of the Spirit that came to his mind and heart. And that—that is the moment I wish to capture here.
When moments that mark history unfold, how do we respond and recall the events that shake us or shatter us? For this particular friend, I was and am moved by his own small story in the light of a larger national event, and how he learned more and reflected on his grief, and sought comfort and enlightenment in prayer.
And I observed whole communities engaged in prayer. Uplifting one another in prayer. Praying for peace. Praying for one another. Praying for the broken, hurting families touched by this tragedy. Praying for forgiveness. And, finally, praying for less frustration with one another over political differences, entrenched opposing views, or mindsets that might lead us toward endless and destructive vitriol toward others.
I doubt that, if ever this Charlie Kirk moment is recorded in the history books that schoolchildren read, the scholarly commentators will pause and comment on the prayers. On the hope for greater unity. On the spiritual resolve of many to love one another better. But—it can be recorded. But—it can be remembered. In your personal history efforts, whatever their form, you can share and reflect upon the learning and lessons that will inevitably come from such a moment.
And, these are the records that can move downward in time, and come to be heard and read by those downstream from us, those yet unborn, and which can carry the messages that really matter. Political points—on either side of the spectrum—don’t matter, especially if they lead to the degradation of others and violence. That is a lesson to be learned. Kindness—matters. Prayer—matters. Love—matters. God’s care for us all—matters.
On Memories of 9/11 and Other Historical Events
Time does not stop. It marches forward, and less is remembered over time. Let me share an example.
Certain moments “mark” history—they highlight key events or periods. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7, 1941, to launch America’s entrance into World War II. The Great Depression of the 1930’s in the United States. The Great Famine of Ireland and the resultant effects of death and mass migration. And many more. We sometimes pick through the records of our ancestors to understand where they were, what they did or how they were caught up in the tides of such historical events. In developmental science, we call these influences from historical events a “cohort effect”—a broad-scale event that ripples outward in time and reshapes the lives or experiences of individuals living within the circle of that event’s expanding influence in time.
9/11—or September 11, 2001—was such an event. As most readers of this article well know, on that day, terrorists hijacked airplanes in the United States and flew them with devastating effect into buildings in New York City and Washington, D.C. Thousands died. I had family members living in New York. Personally, I was in Washington, D.C. just two days before the attacks, and it took me some time to reach home in North Dakota and to reassure my wife and young children of my safety. In my work, for some time, I was caught up in addressing issues of terrorism and handling such concerns as parents when talking to children.
Yet, today, when I speak to some classes of young people at my university and we talk about memorable historical events that shaped us, I can ask: “Do you remember anything about your experience on 9/11?” And what is the response? Blank stares. Lack of familiarity. The event of 9/11 happened just 24 years ago, and yet time has marched forward, and the young people I speak to were not even alive at the time and have no memory of the events of that terrible day.
The Book of Mormon speaks to the reason why some things were recorded in that book of scripture and other scripture. It is simple. That we might know of—and remember with gratitude—the moments of God’s involvement in the lives of individuals, family members, or even communities or nations or historical events. That we might not forget. Lessons of history cannot be learned if our responses to them lie unvoiced, unrecorded, undelivered to those around us or who will come after us.
Corwin Larson and World War II
I have a great-uncle, Corwin Larson, who grew up in Lakeside, Arizona, a small town in the mountains of eastern Arizona. He was a son, the oldest son, of loving pioneer parents who battled the frontier and forged the sinews of that little pioneer community.
As I have explored the history of my own family and became interested in how family members experienced and responded to some of the major events of history, I spent time learning more about Corwin Larson. He was a kind-hearted, musically talented, and academically gifted young man. He served a Latter-day Saint mission to Sweden before being called home from Europe due to the outbreak of war in 1939. Eventually, he was determined to join the Allied cause in World War II and he enlisted in the Marines. Though he had a medical condition that qualified him to be excused from military service, he nonetheless stepped forward voluntarily to fight in that great worldwide conflict.
The day came when Corwin’s military unit was to be deployed from its training station and was set to depart from San Diego, California. His mother Jeanne, grandmother Larson, and infant niece (my mother Karen) were there to see him again and support him in his departure. Their feelings were mixed to see this oldest son and brother prepared to sail off to war. They voiced their heartfelt feelings to him, their love—and the hope that he might yet choose to remain home and not face the horrors of war.
Corwin looked on his mother, his grandmother, and then said of his choice, looking at his infant niece Karen: “Someone—someone has to go and make this world safer for Karen, and those children like her. I choose to go.”
Corwin departed for war. Corwin led troops in battle at multiple locations across the South Pacific. Corwin died heroically in the invasion of Guam. He gave his life in a great and voluntary sacrifice—and his memory is sacred to our family. And many others.
Why this story? Because, I suppose, it cannot be overemphasized that we cannot remember and learn from that which we do not know. We cannot feel and exercise gratitude for the remarkable choices of our ancestors, even our present family members, if we leave their actions and responses to the moments of history unrecorded, unvoiced, unshared.
Recording the Moments that Mark History
After quite a few reflections, I will not conclude this article with a long list of ways to record our responses to the moments that mark history. Many more ideas and methods to record and pass along personal and family history will come from this column in time.
Instead, I hope that this article reflects that there can be great value not just in recording a fact, such as that President John F. Kennedy was shot in Dallas in 1963—but also in the responses we feel and enact to such events. Or, to events that mark history perhaps just for us, individually.
I am amazed by several people in my circle of loved ones who have battled the challenge of addictions, and then achieved sobriety—which they mark with celebrations as a year has passed, or two, or five, or ten. History does not note their effort and achievements—it is personal to them. But, it is no less important even though it is not accorded great public recognition. Their experiences in that circumstance, as well as their decisions, have changed their lives and have changed their histories and rippled outward in positive ways. Such moments also qualify for and meet the criteria for “moments that mark history.”
There are turning points in our lives. Some are marked by particular historical events. Most are much more quiet—a marriage, the birth of a child, a graduation, a new job, a testimony from the Spirit, a patriarchal blessing. Whether you record events large or small, reflect on your feelings, and that which is constructive that you might fold into your personal or family history.