For this year’s annual letter, I would like to speak directly to the class of 2020. With the exception of my cousin’s daughter, Azlee, I do not know you. I am guessing you do not know me either. A Frederick High School graduate of 2002, I assume my name is not spoken of anymore. I am confident my name has long been painted over in the backstage area of the theater. No one but a forgotten corner of YouTube remembers our “Tom Green” videos. Time has erased who was student body president during 9/11 and how those leaders rallied a town together at Bomber Bowl when football was not an option.
But it is that tragedy which gives me the most direct line to you. 9/11 was my senior year of high school. Thanks to the Oklahoma City Bombing when I was in the 5th grade, I knew of the worlds’ evil tendencies. 9/11 was different. It stole my innocence and did so on the eve of my release into the real world. All of a sudden, every institution in my life was thrown into question and I questioned with an unimaginable ferocity. I still do. As I stood on an empty football field, surrounded by classmates, religious leaders, and teachers, I knew the whole world had changed. Earlier in the week, I collapsed under the weight of what had occurred when our marching band played the “Star-Spangled Banner” in the hallway, but standing on that field trying to lead, I knew time and space going forward would be fundamentally unrecognizable.
Life did change. For a while, we were more patriotic. We organized a blood drive at the high school. Several of my classmates volunteered for military service. We found ourselves searching for ways to give back. We took part in donation drives and found ourselves feeling a special connection with high schoolers we would never meet in New York. We knew terrorism and felt sorry they were learning of its crippling fear.
Life outside of Frederick changed too. Security was sacrificed over liberty. Metal detectors, x-ray scans, and bag searches were normalized. Patriotism was replaced with a healthy distrust of institutions. Xenophobia, racism, and fear of immigrants washed over our nation. Torture was normalized and America’s role in the world was thrown into doubt. Life had fundamentally changed for us. As we walked across the graduation stage and said teary-eyed goodbyes, we would each have to wrestle with how it had changed us. Even in the unknown, we had each other, and we had this opportunity to celebrate.
As I write this, you stand at one of those life-altering moments in time. Nearly 65,000 of our fellow citizens have died. That is more than the Vietnam War (my father’s life-altering moment in time to wrestle). We have spent weeks locked indoors. We have grown fearful of large gatherings. Our economy has fallen off a cliff. Millions are without jobs. The future looks bleak and, once again, unrecognizable.
In this chaos, you have been deprived of the one thing which helped us survive, each other. Out of an abundance of caution, classes are being taught virtually, proms canceled, and graduations deemed too dangerous to chance. In this chaos, life has changed for you, for Frederick, and for our society as a whole. In this chaos, I ask you to choose your response wisely.
In the midst of so much negativity, I ask you to turn away from cynicism. In the reality of a profound loss of life, I ask you to build community. In the fog of selfishness, I ask you to give of yourself. In these times of uncertainty, I ask you to lead. We find ourselves standing on the precipice of a world that will be fundamentally different than the one you imagined when you began your senior year. Please choose how you respond to that reality carefully. Please learn from our mistakes and be better. Look at our story and write a better one. Look at the events surrounding 9/11 and COVID-19, then decide how you can use your time, talents, and treasure to leave a legacy that will outlast your name.
My guess is in 20-years many of the things you thought would be remembered forever will be forgotten. You are right. With the passing of time, individual names will be lost, but much like Vietnam, Oklahoma City, 9/11, and COVID-19, this moment in time will define you and your classmates. Individually and as a collective, you must decide the meaning of the definition.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
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