And that, says Stull, a life-long resident and now mayor of the town, is just about what happened on Sept. 11, 2001.
On that morning, the unthinkable happened: Terrorists hijacked United Airlines Flight 93, which crashed into a field outside of town after a heroic revolt by passengers and crew of the plane. While much of the rest of the world watched television in horror as the events of 9/11 unfolded, the residents of Shanksville had to face the tragedy right in their backyard.
Undaunted, they did what they had always done. They pitched in and gave everything they could. They provided solace and care to those who needed it. Most of all, they tried to make things right again.
In "the weeks after the crash, the community came together as only a little community could," says Stull, 81.
When, in the days following the crash, the first of the friends and relatives of Flight 93 victims began coming through town to view the crash site, townspeople lined the streets, holding welcome signs and hands to their chests, waving flags. Food and supplies flooded the downtown churches. And in the four years since the crash, that commitment to making their community welcoming has not wavered, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by the family members of crash victims who have come to know and love the town.
"The people are very caring and friendly," says Theresa Cooke of Sterling, Va., whose brother, First Officer LeRoy Homer Jr., was the co-pilot on Flight 93. "I feel like they took care of us up here. They fed us, took care of us."
Rick King, the town’s assistant fire chief and owner of one of the town’s landmarks—Ida’s Country Store, where you can get everything from a cup of coffee and a sandwich to a roll of duct tape—was in the first group of Shanksville’s volunteer firefighters to arrive on the crash scene on the morning of Sept. 11. King expresses the same steadfast spirit that other residents convey when talking about the event that changed their lives.
"It’s just one of those things," King says. "We go on with our daily life, but we know things are changed forever."
The Rev. Alphonse T. Mascherino, director and curator of nearby Thunder on the Mountain UAL Flight 93 Memorial Chapel, also has witnessed the town’s remarkable compassion and generosity.
"It seems that the community has drawn together to be guides and recipients for people coming into their territory," says Mascherino, who founded the chapel to serve the spiritual needs of visitors and area residents following the crash. "It probably is American community at its finest."
Each week, as many as 5,000 people visit the crash site several miles north of town to pay homage at the final resting place of the 40 airline passengers and crewmembers who fought back against the hijackers. The crash site, now managed by the National Park Service, is in a peaceful field—a reclaimed strip mine—with trees on one side and a broad expanse of grassy hills on the other. A permanent memorial design, chosen via a year-long competition sponsored by the Partners of the Flight 93 Memorial Project, is scheduled to be unveiled this week.
Almost any visit to the Flight 93 crash site and memorial, however, will likely include a trip through Shanksville, a gracious, unpresuming town that has, for many people, become a second home.
"Each time I come, I feel like I’m coming home, because the people are very accepting," says Marilyn Johnson, another of LeRoy Homer’s sisters. "They accepted us, and I’m very grateful."