A Storybook September: NICU Babies Celebrate National Literacy Month with Families, Care Teams, and Kristi Yamaguchi
In the quiet corners of a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, life is measured in heartbeats, steady breaths, and the comforting hum of machines. But this September, something softer filled the rooms of our San Francisco and Oakland hospitals—voices reading stories, turning pages, and creating moments of warmth that went far beyond medical care.
In honor of National Literacy Month, our tiniest patients enjoyed extra story time, surrounded not just by their families and care teams, but by an entire community determined to remind them that every child deserves the joy of books. From lullabies on the page to picture books filled with bright illustrations, story time became a bridge of love, carrying hope to even the most fragile beginnings.
One of the most special guests to join the celebration was Olympic gold medal figure skater Kristi Yamaguchi, a Bay Area native and longtime advocate for children’s literacy. Sitting alongside families, nurses, and volunteers, Kristi’s presence lit up the NICU. With each story she shared, she reminded everyone that even the smallest babies deserve to hear words of comfort, rhythm, and imagination.
“Reading to children—even newborns—plants seeds that last a lifetime,” Kristi said. “It’s about bonding, it’s about language, and it’s about showing them love in such a powerful way.”
And show love they did. Over the course of the month, families and staff at our San Francisco hospital reached their ambitious goal of
For parents, these story sessions became anchors of hope. Many NICU families spend long days and nights by incubators, watching over their babies and praying for progress. Story time gave them a chance to do something familiar—something that any parent might do at home. One mother described it as “a moment where the hospital fades away and it’s just me and my baby and a book.”
For nurses and care teams, joining in on the reading brought new energy to their daily routines. One nurse explained: “We’re always monitoring vitals, adjusting medication, watching closely. But when we sit down and read, it’s another form of care—emotional care. The babies hear our voices, they see our smiles, and they relax. That’s healing, too.”
And for the babies themselves, the effects may be deeper than anyone can see today. Research shows that babies, even those born prematurely, benefit from being read to. The rhythm of language, the tone of voices, and the gentle cadence of storytelling can support cognitive and emotional development from the very start.
But beyond the science, what mattered most was the feeling in the room: the way parents leaned closer, the way babies seemed soothed by the sound of familiar voices, the way families left each story session with smiles and hearts a little lighter.
The month ended with numbers that spoke volumes—thousands of pages turned, hundreds of stories read aloud, and countless moments of connection created. But what will linger long after the statistics fade are the memories. Parents will remember the first book they read to their child in the NICU. Nurses will remember the babies who calmed to the sound of a story. And families will carry with them the reminder that even in the toughest beginnings, joy and normalcy can be found in something as simple as a book.
As National Literacy Month came to a close, one thing was clear: this was more than just a celebration of reading. It was a celebration of hope, love, and resilience. It was proof that in the NICU—where every day is a fight for progress—there is also room for stories, imagination, and dreams of brighter tomorrows.
In the end, both hospitals marked September with a storybook ending. San Francisco reached its ambitious goal of more than 1,000 books read, while Oakland nearly doubled its total from last year. Together, they turned an ordinary awareness month into something extraordinary for the tiniest patients among us.
Because here, even before babies can hold a book in their hands, they can feel the love that comes from being read to. And that, in its own way, is the beginning of every great story.
September 11: Remembering the Lives, the Loss, and the Legacy
On September 11, 2001, the world changed forever. In the span of a few hours, nearly 3,000 lives were lost, entire families shattered, and the United States endured one of the darkest days in its history. But beyond the staggering numbers are the faces, names, and stories of courage that must never be forgotten.
The most searing loss that day was among those who ran toward danger while others fled. 343 firefighters of the FDNY perished inside the Twin Towers, the largest loss of firefighter life in a single event in U.S. history. Many of them never made it past the upper floors as they tried to rescue those trapped inside. Their sacrifice became a symbol of courage that still defines the legacy of that day.
Alongside them were 23 NYPD officers and 37 members of the Port Authority Police Department, men and women who rushed to the towers, guiding crowds to safety, climbing stairwells, and refusing to abandon their posts. They went in knowing the risks, and they gave their lives to save others.
But the tragedy was not limited to first responders. Thousands of office workers were trapped above the impact zones, desperately calling loved ones, searching for exits, or holding onto hope. Among the remarkable stories of survival is that of
The human toll extended far beyond the towers themselves. Children lost parents, spouses lost partners, and families were torn apart. For many, life after 9/11 meant growing up with only photographs and memories to hold onto. The void created that day will never be filled, no matter how many years pass.
Among the countless acts of heroism, one name continues to stand out: Welles Crowther, “The Man in the Red Bandana.” A 24-year-old equities trader, Welles repeatedly returned to the burning South Tower to lead people to safety, using his red bandana as a marker for survivors to follow. He saved dozens before losing his own life when the tower collapsed. Today, his red bandana is displayed at the 9/11 Museum as a lasting reminder of selflessness.
The collapse of the towers turned Lower Manhattan into a nightmare. Ground Zero was a scene of devastation—smoke rising into the sky, mountains of twisted steel, and a silence broken only by sirens and cries for help. First responders dug with bare hands, searching for survivors in the rubble. For days, the fires smoldered, and the city itself seemed to hold its breath.
Even those who made it out alive carry scars. Survivors’ trauma lingers—flashbacks, nightmares, and the haunting memory of stairwells filled with smoke and faces they never saw again. For many, healing has been a lifelong journey.
Yet out of the destruction, remnants of hope remain. Artifacts of memory—such as the “Survivor Glass,” a large pane of glass that miraculously stayed intact amid the collapse, and the “Survivors’ Staircase,” which provided a final escape route for hundreds—stand today as silent witnesses. They remind visitors that survival was possible, even when all seemed lost.
More than two decades later, the legacy of 9/11 lives on not only in memorials, but in the way people continue to honor the lives cut short and the bravery that rose from despair. Each story—whether of a firefighter who never came home, a family left behind, or an ordinary worker who became a hero—threads together the larger fabric of remembrance.
💔 September 11 was a day of loss, but also of extraordinary humanity. To remember is to honor, and to honor is to promise: we will never forget.
