NEVER FORGET...AND OTHER LESSONS OF 9-11

Yes, I remember where I was when I heard. On the West coast we were just waking up and I was showering with the radio on. By the time I was out of the shower racing for the television, the second plane had hit. By the time I reached my office, we all knew that the television, not work, would hold our attention all that day.

Everyone has singular and personal recollections of 9-11 and the days after. I watched TV endlessly at work and at home. I missed a staff meeting because we couldn't fly. With my husband, we spent the second week on a long planned trip for our anniversary/his birthday in the back-country, out of contact with most of the world. It was both harrowing and soothing.

I was in a high school chemistry class when John Kennedy was shot. On 9-11, I knew immediately that this event would join that day as one never forgotten; one about which would endlessly be asked, "Where were you?".

And the shared feelings, the togetherness in chaos, although now trashed and wasted forever, were some of the deepest and most patriotic I've felt.

Each year we are asked to remember, to "never forget". But what exactly are we asked to remember? What lessons have we actually learned?

On each 9-11 since 2001, in my small pocket of America, the local emergency responders of our two cities, two counties and two states gather in one corner of the territory and parade throughout the towns with their engines, cars, and ambulances dressed in flags; ending with a ceremony in a local park. It's lovely and moving. Emergency responders were hard hit on 9-11 (373 firefighters, 72 law enforcement) and their brother and sisters in service remember them gravely. Citizens line the roads for miles and wave flags. For at least one day, our gratitude to those who risk their lives running toward danger, rather than away, is on display.

Other towns have other traditions. For one small moment in time each year, we attempt to recapture the unity we felt in the aftermath of 9-11.

For those in the United States, it often seems a uniquely American tragedy. Yet, ninety countries lost citizens in the attack. Ninety countries.

And once the focus turned from the victims and our continuing strength as a nation; two competing lessons emerged. The facts of 9-11 underlined our diverse nation and shared sorrow. The list of victims reads like a who's who of nationalities and immigrants. Even today, looking at survivors is a lesson in the multiplicity of people and circumstances involved in American life, represented by one small microcosm in two buildings in one city, the Pentagon and four planes.  Our huddled masses were a world in two towers. Lesson number one of 9-11; we are one made of many.

This insight was followed closely in the American psyche by the militaristic and bellicose calls for retribution and revenge. Those calls are alive and well today although the perpetrators died in the crashes, Al Qaeda has been decimated and Osama Bin Ladin was killed by our military. We cannot seem to let go of our need to punish. Having defeated the immediate causes of our grief and anger, we have broadened our attacks to all those who look like, sound like and share a religion with nineteen fanatics and their leader. We conveniently forget lesson number one and focus on lesson number two: our fear outweighs freedom, welcome and constitutional protections for those unlike us in color, ethnicity or religion.

I know I am not the only one who wishes we had not turned 9-11 into just a day. The events and aftermath of 9-11 had the power to transform us more broadly. It was an opportunity missed. Genuine as our feelings of sadness over the loss of life, our true compassion for the survivors and our wish for 9-11 to positively alter the course of American history; we only appear to be able to achieve those worthy goals on one day a year. We are reminded but not transformed.

Does The Tragedy of Death Depend on Witnesses?

Is a tragedy more tragic because more people witness the event? The tragedy of death passes by us everyday and frequently strikes friend or family. However, deaths, especially in large numbers, are usually considered both personal and community tragedies simply because they are witnessed by large numbers of people.

Is the death of my friend Ty any less tragic because it was witnessed only by his wife and children? Is the death of any one of the 2,977 who died on 9-11-2011 more tragic because it was witnessed by millions? What about the thousands of others who died the very same day, but not on TV?

Or perhaps it is the cause of death that creates tragedy. Was Ty's cancer at the age of thirty less tragic than a terrorist attack? What about car accidents, disease, murder or just old age? Are they less tragic? Why? To whom?

The act of terrorism on 9-11 was a blindingly grievous and cataclysmic event. As such, it deserves energetic response and heartfelt remembrance. But the tragedy of death was very individual and the equal of, no less than but also no more than, any death witnessed by many, few or no one at all.

If we truly believe in the value of life - every life - then every death is an equal tragedy; whether we see or know of its happening or not.