It might be called "People in a Fog" if it were a
short story. We are all caught in the aftershock.
As I look around, I stare at those who stare back and
wonder what I am also wondering. Is this real? Once,
I told a former student, Rahul, who just got out of
rehab that he seemed different to me now. Somehow.
All those soccer practices and games, in which he
scored often, flashed back (pardon the pun) in my mind
in a sudden wave. And though I didn't know about his
constant drug use at the time, I saw the distinction
between before and after standing in front of me. He
wanted to know how he was different. "You're a real
person now." Not the cartoon character he embodied
before. I made sure he knew that I preferred the real
thing.

We are all real now, by virtue of that sad September
morn a week ago. And, like the Velveteen Rabbit, once
real, we can't go back. Having said that, the
collective depression can and will ease. It's not
like our memories previous to the catastrophe were all
good. Or that those after cannot be again. We will
laugh again. Long and hard, on occasion. We will go
to weddings and graduationas and celebrate with tears
of a different cause. We will have moments of
clarity, soulfulness and even heart-shaking joy. As
horrible as it all was, this too shall pass.

But right now, we mourn as we search for the meaning
of it all. In truth, the meaning may have nothing to
do with the event and everything to do with how we
respond. That reminds me of Owen, a student not on my
soccer team. As he approached, I was prepared for a
question about Chemistry. Instead, he asked, "what's
the meaning of life," catching me completely
off-guard. Taking him seriously, I blurted out the
first thing I thought. "I think it's to give more
than you take, and you'll always get back more than
you gave," I stammered, wondering if I made any sense.
Since last Tuesday, many American citizens can relate
to this concept, as evidenced by the outpouring of
help and healing. Owen wasn't moved much by my words.
He simply held out his hand and said, "lend me a
dollar."