Over the past several weeks, I was often brought back in time to twenty years ago when juggling family responsibilities, work & press requests were my daily reality. We didn't have cows, and our dogs were much smaller and shed a lot less. Our house was a fraction of its size today, and Chuck and I were changing diapers and trying to sleep through the night, not figure out how to get a tire changed in Evanston or help college daughters navigate unvaccinated roommates' overnight guests. While my life has changed dramatically, and the before and after pictures are a vivid illustration of that passage of time, and the media business has been completely transformed, I discovered that my interest in being chronicled by the media remains the same: at best, ambivalent.
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| Photo by Cindy Schultz for The New York Times |
However, new outlets allow me to frame my own message. So I am sharing the speech as prepared for delivery (I can't ever give it word-for-word, but I hued pretty closely). As the speech begins and has been a huge contradiction in my life: serving in public office was an enormous honor and privilege. My discomfort and complicated relationship with the media don't erase my rock-solid belief that public service is a noble calling, and we need more dedicated, smart Americans taking up its cause. And on the 20th Anniversary of 9/11 my focus was, as all of ours should have been, on the families who lost so much.
My remarks, as prepared for delivery
9/11 Family Remembrance
JFK Library
"Thank you all for having me here. Serving as your Governor on 9/11 was an
enormous privilege, and being included in today’s event is an even more
meaningful honor. As we assemble here to remember the horrific events of
that morning twenty years ago, we gather amid another time of national
challenge. Once again, the calls for resilience and emerging stronger from
crisis fill the airwaves and populate the speeches of our elected officials.
Once again, we grapple with tragedy and seek deeper understanding from the
unexpected and the unexplained.
The leadership lessons that emerged from the ashes of New York,
Pennsylvania and suburban Virginia now fill bookstore shelves. They are
case studies in university classes and in the conference rooms of
organizational retreats. They inform how we govern, how we manage, how
we as Americans move through the world. I have certainly incorporated my
own lessons into the work I have done throughout the last two decades. But
to focus on a litany of best practices feels shallow and beside the point.
What has transformed my life…what has transformed the lives of those
gathered here…and so many others are the quiet, personal acts of generosity
that persisted long after the cameras stopped rolling—acts of grace and
gratitude that 9/11 families brought forth individually and collectively that
showed us the way forward out of tragedy. Those acts of our common
humanity form the most powerful and enduring legacy. I often return to
Martin Luther King Jr.’s wisdom: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only
light can do that.”
Today, we are grappling with the darkness of another kind, a pandemic that
has killed more than 600,000 Americans. But the light of our 9/11 families
continues to show us the way forward through this terrible virus and the
suffering it has wrought on families and communities around the globe.
This is especially true for those with connections to Massachusetts. At last
count, a remarkable 54 awards and scholarships have been created in honor
of your loved ones…along with with16 memorial events…19 funds, 14
foundations, even six original music compositions. There are buildings and
peaceful places of contemplation, recreation centers, and playgrounds, all
created for new generations to find joy and inspiration.
For those struggling now, Rick’s Place in Wilbraham is a lifeline. It was
created in honor of Rick Thorpe, a much-loved husband and father who lost
his life in Tower Two. The staff provides grief support for children and their
families. The Jeff Coombs Foundation, created by Jeff’s wife, Christie, has
raised more than one million dollars over the last two decades for families
facing challenging times due to illness, death, and other challenges that
stretch the family budget. And there are so many others.
The generosity of The Peter M. Goodrich Memorial Foundation, which has
worked primarily in the Pashtun provinces of Afghanistan, supporting
education and addressing the fundamental needs of fragile populations, was
started by a family from my neck of the woods in the Berkshires. Or the
family of Patrick Quigley from Wellesley. It was so uplifting to read in the
Wall Street Journal last week about his daughter, Leah, now 19, who is
studying early childhood education in college because she has been inspired
by her mom, Patti, who is the interim executive director of Razia’s Ray of
Hope, an organization committed to educating girls in Afghanistan - and
committed to continuing that work even after the U.S. withdrawal. Like so
many impacted by 9/11, I am also struck by the uncertain future facing many
who remain in Afghanistan. I wish I could offer a guarantee to
them and to all the women and girls in Afghanistan. My heart aches. But as I
did two decades ago, I turn to my faith for sustenance and support. The book
of Romans assures us: “For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for
itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees?
But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.”
Here again, you provide a model for the days ahead. You have waited with
endurance for the last two decades. More than that, though, you have worked
while you waited. You turned grief into giving…tragedy into transformation
for people you will never meet.
I suspect that, like me, on many days, that morning seems like yesterday.
Then I look at my children. The twins, who were infants that day, are now
juniors in college. My toddler is graduating from UMass in a few months. It
feels like a different lifetime. And yet…
**
The great Colombian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote: “The essence of a
human being is resistant to the passage of time, Our inner lives are eternal.
Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and
omega. An end in itself.”
***
Thank you for sharing your love with the rest of us, for embodying that state
of grace for the benefit of others. You have honored the memories of your
loved ones with generosity and compassion – with humanity – that transcend
the limits of time and space. What an honor it is to be among you again.
Thank you."
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