I saw it briefly, just after the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001. Americans removed the walls between them. They were no longer strangers. A terrible thing had happened on our shores, to our fellow citizens. We grieved together and prayed together for a safer future.
But that intimacy — that of a circle of loving friends, neighbors and families — dissipated as the anthrax letters made us fearful, terrorist profiling made everyone seem suspect, and the war became the vision that filled our eyes, pained our hearts and eventually fractured the consensus of the nation.
Now I think that societal intimacy may be returning. I could be wrong; maybe it’s just the start of the Christmas season.
But, I was sure I saw it on K Street NW last week. What I thought would be a fight over a parking space became a strategy session on how the two drivers could coordinate to avoid getting a ticket. I watched for a few minutes before walking away with a smile. I saw it again in the post office on 18th Street NW when, during a lull in service, clerks Sharon and Joe joined patrons — most of us unknown to each other — in 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, just us — Americans — talking about changes: a better economy, a 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. 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 set 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 that sense of intimacy re-emerge? Will it last?
There is 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.”
