A colleague of my dad’s works with college students, and he’s made a habit of discerning what cultural phenomenon are unknown to incoming Freshmen each year. It occurred to me this morning, as I listened to the kids behind the counter who procured my wake-up juice, that what they will not remember, and all too soon, is September 11th.
“It should be a national holiday,” one of them said, “I didn’t want to do Anything today.”
“Why should it be a national holiday?” another asked.
No one answered him. Not even me. I wanted to, but words didn’t serve me in that moment. Because if they could really remember, if they were old enough to recall the weight of that day, they wouldn’t have to ask.
As I walked back to my office, all I could think about were the thousands of people whose lives were cut short so senselessly eleven years ago today. The world has been forever changed by their absence. It is for them, and for their loved ones, that we honor the beauty that was lost.