This past Wednesday morning I went to my local CVS to get my flu shot. As I signed in, the young woman said, in response to my question about the date, “September eleventh.” Instantly, each of exclaimed, “Oh!” in mutual recognition of what that meant. It was, of course, the thirteenth anniversary of one of those times in human history when most everyone who was old enough and aware enough can remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard what was happening, first in New York, then in Washington and rural Pennsylvania. Unlike times like Pearl Harbor Day on December 7 or the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, the date 9/11 itself requires no other name to evoke the events of that day. We human beings have a tendency to place particular importance on anniversaries of any kind so it’s not surprising that year after year on that date we‘re surrounded by exhortations to remember and often enough hear or read the remembrances of others, many of whom were much more deeply and permanently affected than most of us.