I love taking my dogs on early-morning walks. We get to feel the neighborhoods waking up, smell the coffee perking and the bacon sizzling. We hear kids yelling for backpacks and dads looking for car keys. I enjoy imagining what kind of a family each house holds, and I wonder what they’ll be up to that day.

This morning, I couldn’t stop imagining a neighborhood made up of 9/11 victims’ families, each home missing at least one someone. The scope of the loss is truly appalling. I’m not sure the shock of September 11, 2001, will ever really wear off.

As I walked this morning, though, I was also reminded of one of my favorite poems, “I Hear America Singing,” by Walt Whitman. It reminded me of what makes us Americans—patriotism, hard work, optimism, independence, persistence, and so much more. Nothing can dampen those qualities, or our resolve to live our lives as best we can in the manner we see fit.


I Hear America Singing

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to no one else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

-- Walt Whitman, 1860