Reassessing what matters

This morning you’ll see hundreds, if not thousands of students gather on the Cathedral lawn… This morning you’ll see hundreds, if not thousands of students gather on the Cathedral lawn before the 10 a.m. classes they would typically skip. You’ll hear members of a sometimes distant University administration reflect on last year’s attacks, and on the loss of human life that resulted. And you’ll be amazed throughout the day at the coordination of so many different remembrances and presentations invented by and geared toward Pitt students.

In essence, you will witness something I haven’t seen since last Sept. 11: a campus overcome with thoughtful, honest reflections about our lives, our safety and our loved ones. Today, the country is determined to replace last year’s terror with hope. And as Pitt unites with the motto “Remember, Reflect, Renew,” I’m personally determined to do the same.

Remember – I couldn’t even think last year. A crying roommate woke me up shortly after 9 a.m. – she couldn’t compose herself enough for me to understand what was wrong. Confused, mostly asleep, I took a shower before heading downstairs to join 200 million Americans in front of a television set.

Just as the first Tower fell, my heart fell deeper into my stomach than I knew it could. The second building collapsed, and I still didn’t really grasp what was going on. Pitt evacuated the Cathedral of Learning. Pittsburgh’s mayor evacuated parts of Downtown. A plane crashed in the Pentagon, then one in Shanksville, Pa.

My mom called three or four times to make sure I was all right. Of course I was fine, I said. I got off the phone almost too quickly. I drove to classes that would ultimately be canceled. I came to The Pitt News to make sure we could publish a newspaper for the next day. I spent the night laying out a newspaper.

I can remember walking between classes in the week that followed the attacks, unable to think about anything else. Few people smiled, and if they did, it was only in sporadic fits. Bars were more quiet and jokes were toned down. As a society, we waited for monotony to once again take over and rid us of the uncertainty.

Reflect – It’s cliche, but it’s true: We almost never focus enough time and energy on the people we love. As a society rooted in capitalism, we’re often too busy climbing the ladder to think about those things that will ultimately prove more important in life. I am most guilty of this.

My older brother once put it to me this way: As an aged man or woman on your deathbed thinking back on a lifetime of memories, it’s unlikely that you will fondly reminisce about receiving straight A’s in college, or becoming a full partner by age 28. Instead, you’ll remember time with your family and friends – staying out all night with your roommates and settling for straight B’s, hugging your mom and dad before you walk down the aisle, smiling, laughing and crying for a lifetime.

I lost no loved ones in last year’s tragedy. As for my ability to function, it didn’t affect me at all, and most of you could probably say the same. But each time I hurriedly got off the phone with my mom that day, I lost yet another chance to thank her.

Renew – Within days of the attacks, President Bush was urging the nation to return to normalcy. And I would agree: We can’t dwell on the past or live in fear of the future. And we have, for the most part, returned to normalcy. But we cannot return to a pre-Sept. 11 existence.

We cannot allow ourselves to return to what we once knew as “normal” because doing so would be a slap in the face to those Americans who did lose loved ones last year. Regardless of your position on Afghanistan, the president, airport security or war itself, you cannot deny that all of our lives have a decided uncertainty about them.

And if we are not, as a collective, surrounding ourselves with love and happiness everyday – shunning class today to participate in memorial services with our fellow students – then we have not learned much at all.

Dave Hartman is the editor in chief of The Pitt News.