What I Remember
Today, and in the days leading up to today, there have been many recollections posted on social media and mentioned in passing: where were you, what were you doing twenty years ago. There have been many exhortations to "never forget" what happened.
What happened, where I was, what I was doing are branded in my memory. When I touch those marks, the pain lingers and shows it still bites. I can never forget. I have no choice. What I choose to remember--and hope I never forget--is that for minutes and days, we were one country, united in grief, yes, but also committed to and bound by our common sense of patriotism and the ideals of reason, justice, law and civilization that underpin our constitution and the enlightenment from which it arose.
For minutes and days we were the gauzy, perfectable "last best hope of the world" I learned about in grade school and in patriotic speeches on the 4th of July and Lincoln's Birthday. For minutes and days, we were the beacon that brought out crowds in Paris to proclaim "we are all Americans!"
Today, that is the memory I want to hold on to, and the dream I want to preserve.