I saw it briefly, just after the attack on Sept. 11, 2001. Americans removed the walls between them. They were no longer strangers. A terrible thing had happened on our shores, and to our fellow citizens. We grieved together, and prayed together for a safer future.
But that intimacy—not of lovers but a circle of loving friends, neighbors and families—Americans had exchanged walked away when Anthrax entered; when terrorists profiling began, when war became the vision that filled our eyes, pained our hearts and emptied so many communities.
“It is easy to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends,” Joan Didion wrote in her 1967 essay. I think of this line when I think of Sept. 11.
I have worked hard to see both beginning and end, and reawakening. I think intimacy may be returning. I could be wrong; it could just be Advent--the start of the Christmas season.
But, I was sure I saw it on K St. NW last week during an exchange between two motorists at a parking meter. The two negotiated to ensure that neither received a ticket. I watched for a few minutes before walking away with a smile on my face. I saw it again in the post office on 18th St. NW when, during a lull in service, clerks Sharon and Joe joined patrons—most of us unknown to each other—talking about our hopes for America, and for the District. We passed around our dreams, which, in the end, seemed the same.
There were no Republicans, no Democrats, no color or class boundaries to fear crossing, just us—Americans--talking about changes: a better economy, better education system, and a better, more responsive local and national government
None of us was naïve about the future. President-elect Barack Obama is no Messiah. There are things that won’t happen: Capitalism will not die; the country’s multitrillion-dollar deficit won’t disappear; the recession will stick around; and the District, unfortunately, will remain tethered to Congress. This is not to suggest that intimacy and fanciful thinking are mutually exclusive. But, those of us who see the country entering a new era understand we must keep our feet firmly planted on the ground and our leaders’ feet to that proverbial fire.
Still, the warmth and excitement are contagious. They will be on grand display next month, during the presidential inauguration. Millions are expected to converge. Will they take the time to know the city—not the federal enclave; but neighborhoods like Brookland, historic Anacostia, Cleveland Park, Columbia Heights. Will there be intimacy? Will it last?
One thing we can do to ensure its longevity: make the effort to know each other’s story, to listen, to understand. That is crucial says Christina Baldwin, author of “Seven Whispers.”
“Knowing a person’s story softens our reactivity and judgment of each other, “ she writes. “Less reactivity equals more tolerance. Less judgment equals more peace.”
