On the bright, beautiful morning of September 11, 2001, I was tasked with remerchandising the cold beer at a drug store in Henderson, Nevada. The job, needless to say, did not go the way I thought it would. That morning I was at least nominally in charge of a crew of 4 gentlemen drawn from the other major wholesalers in Southern Nevada. On a normal day, the chatty group was boisterous; a constant stream of complaints and “suggestions” about the set that I designed (usually “suggesting” where I might place it), chit-chat about family, rants about football, and stories told by resident historian Frank filled the air.
On this day there were no conversations about beer, no ribbing about sales or football. The work was done with a quick and barely concealed anger; the only discussions were over whether the bombs we dropped on Afghanistan would be nuclear or conventional. On that day and the days after, America was focused and united; we knew what our shared task was. We would hunt done those who attacked us, and relentlessly work to secure our nation against any such attack in the future. It might be that answers come easier when the bullets are still flying, because September of 2001 seems to be the last time that our shared task was so straightforward.
