A Way Of Life Does Not Keep Itself

Twenty-five years after September 11, the question is not only whether we remember the day. It is whether we still teach, practice, and protect what that day tried to take. On September 11, 2001, at 7:46 a.m. Central time, America was attacked. Nearly 3,000 of our neighbors were taken from us: mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, and first responders who ran toward the fire. That same courage and commitment continued as our men and women in uniform answered the nation's call to serve. That loss is still with us. It should be. I distinctly remember where I was when I heard the news. I was in Florida with plans to fly out that day. Life as we knew it paused. Flights were grounded, and people were calling home to check on loved ones. I immediately called home to let family know I was OK and not in the air. At that moment, all you wanted to do was get home. So I drove straight home from Tallahassee to Fort Worth. That morning was not random. It was an attack on our people, our freedoms, and our way of life. That way of life is the one named in our founding documents: created equal, free by right, and governed only by consent under the law. It is not a slogan, and it does not belong to one party. It is the liberty to speak, worship, work, raise a family, and pursue opportunity under the Constitution. It is faith, family, and community. It is the willingness to see the humanity of the person across the street, across the counter, or across a disagreement. It is service and sacrifice. It is work, responsibility, and room for the next generation to build a better life. Those values are not sentimental. They are productive. They built the most opportunity-rich society on earth because they expect responsibility and decency from all citizens. On September 12, Americans woke up grieving, but we also woke up together. Neighbors checked on neighbors. Churches filled. Flags went up. Differences that had seemed large the day before suddenly looked small. We treated one another with a seriousness and a kindness that told the truth about who we are. Twenty-five years later, the question is not only whether we remember what happened on September 11. It is whether we still remember how we treated one another on September 12. In my experience in leadership, in business and in public office, a group rarely fails at a worthy goal because it decides the goal no longer matters. People get busy. Meetings replace mission. No one votes to give it up. They just stop paying attention. That is my concern for our country. I do not believe most Americans rejected the values that made this nation strong. Many of us got busy with life and stopped promoting, teaching, and practicing them. Values that are not taught are not kept. A way of life that is not lived becomes a memory. Protecting what was attacked begins here: in homes, houses of worship, schools, and neighborhoods, and in the example of first responders and military families. Vigilance is not suspicion of one another. Unity is not a mood that follows tragedy. It is something a free people have to fight to keep: not a fight against our neighbors, but a fight against forgetting. We must actively and diligently remember what we have in common: the values of this nation and the shared claim every citizen has on this country. Each generation stands on the shoulders of those who came before and owes the next one its part in forming a more perfect union. I am a fifth-generation Texan, a husband, a man of faith, and a public servant. Those commitments are why I serve Tarrant County. This county is already a strong place to live, raise a family, and build a business. It can be stronger still if we decide the way of life attacked on September 11 is still worth living on an ordinary day. Come together on this anniversary. Then keep coming together after it. Honor those we lost. Thank a first responder. Teach a child what this country is for. Work with the person next to you to make Tarrant County an even greater place to live a full life. The American way of life is worth protecting. The best place to begin is how we live together here at home. Remember who we are. Live what we stand for. About the author: Rick D. Barnes is the Tarrant County Tax Assessor-Collector. He is a fifth-generation Texan and former Mayor Pro Tem of Keller.