Shades of Gray

I got my hair cut this past Saturday. Seven to eight inches clipped off - which is something to be noticed. But the real story came at the end of the haircut. My old roommate, Melissa, was the stylist and had just finished the final clip and was going over the top of my hair. She found a strand of gray hair, separated it, and began to say "looks like you have a few gray hairs, would you like me to pull them out?" "No." Perhaps, I answered too quickly. But I was pretty firm. She looked confused, probably wanting further explanation. "They appeared after September 11th," was all I could say and hoped that she would understand.

I was a young, Senate staffer in the fall of 2001, proud to live in the greatest city of the world, even prouder to be working in the greatest symbol of liberty - the United States Congress. After watching the second plane hit the towers on television in my office, it suddenly hit us - this was no accident...we're in trouble. When the Pentagon was hit, we knew we could be next. We were evacuated knowing only that there was still one plane still missing. That's when I knew true fear.

It would take too long to go into detail here about all of the events of the day or even the following months. The plane meant for the Capitol crashed in Pennsylvania thanks to the incredible courage of its passengers. I was physically safe, but like the rest of the nation, changed forever. I spent the next months being evacuated often, tested and preemptively treated for anthrax along with my other Senate colleagues. I also grappled with my conflicting views of humanity and loving others and my true hatred of anyone who caused this mass murder. I was very, very angry, but saddened more than that.

That's when I noticed the few strands of gray. Somehow, they became sacred to me. I hope this doesn't sound silly, because I'm very earnest. They became my visual reminder of that day when the world changed. I wouldn't want them to be pulled out because every time I see them I think of that day and I thank God that I am alive and have only a few gray hairs and a wounded heart (albeit a heart that is healing) to show from it. That's why I was so quick to reject their removal. Of course, Melissa understood. She was my roommate at the time. We lived through that time together - a time that would change us forever.

Now in the wake of the shootings at Virginia Tech, I wonder what some of the students will carry with them as reminders. Perhaps some of the them will find a little shade of gray - a part of them that died on the day they thought was just another ordinary day.