Yet there is one memory in particular that I hope outlasts the others. Not where you were when you heard the news or which leaders did what, but what seems precious to me is the fresh and alive sense that was uncovered by the tragedy. When the mighty Towers collapsed, we remembered who and what was important to us. Artificial barriers were swept away, and we talked – really talked – to strangers and to family and to friends we hadn’t seen in years. Our perspectives and priorities were lifted out of the routine. We treasured our children anew. We listened. We cared.
One of my hopes for 2002 is that from time to time we will think back to the days just after the tragedy and recapture that experience of our truest selves – let our imaginations make it real again. I hope that in doing this, our truest selves will grow more familiar to us, and that we will learn to recognize their knock, and to let them into our busy, busy schedules more and more.
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