I’m almost certain I’ve heard more 9/11 stories than anyone else on earth. For almost 12 years, I served as the founding CEO of the National 9/11 Memorial & Museum, a role that invited countless strangers to share their stories from that terrible day. On planes, at gas stations, in meetings or on street corners, the mere mention of my work unlocked solemn reminiscing, and I always felt honored to listen.
Over time, I have noticed a pattern. The stories typically begin on 9/11, but rarely end there. They drift into the weeks and months that followed: people who tossed duffel bags into their cars and drove hundreds of miles to volunteer at Ground Zero; sons and daughters compelled to enlist to fight in the names of the innocent victims; strangers who welcomed stranded travelers into their homes.
Americans channeled grief and fear into acts of service and unity of purpose. I’ve always found it telling that even years after the attacks, these are the memories people chose to share with me. Tempting though it is to recall pre-9/11 America through sunny filters, America seethed with partisan animus even then.
Nine months before the attacks, the Supreme Court had decided Bush v. Gore; three years earlier, the Clinton impeachment had rocked the country. But in the wake of 9/11, the chasms we once shouted across became neighborhoods again.
It’s not that Americans suddenly agreed on all that divided them. And to be sure, we must continue to address the hate that some wrongly embraced in the aftermath of that tragic day. But 9/11 largely clarified an essential truth: beneath our disagreements lay common cause.
The 2,977 people murdered that day hailed from 92 nations. They were rich and poor, religious and secular, native-born, and immigrant. They practiced different faiths, subscribed to different political views, and lived very different lives from even those seated right next to them on that fateful day.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
