After the catastrophe of Sept. 11, writing a column on any other topic seemed inconsequential, yet nothing else seemed right. And trying to find the appropriate tone in writing about that horrifying day was beyond me. When one is staring at an open wound and feeling the pain, one is not inclined to be very coherent.

My composition class, which happens to meet on Tuesday nights this semester, was cancelled the day of the attack. I was grateful for that. I certainly couldn’t have concentrated on English grammar or have expected the students to do so, but I didn’t feel balanced enough to lead a discussion of what would be on everyone’s minds.

Meanwhile, one of the people from the Orient who sends me questions on the Internet about English usage asked me what she could write to express sympathy to her American friends. All I could answer was that this was one occasion on which “Words cannot express . . .” is about all one can say or write. What we were feeling and experiencing was literally beyond words.

A week later, when the class did meet, it was still hard to find words and yet impossible to act as if nothing had changed. By then, however, everyone seemed to be talked out and cried out. Though I offered the opportunity, the students chose not to say anything. So I somehow found a few words about not meeting hate with hate, and we moved on.

In the past few weeks, I have read thousands of words in the newspapers and magazines, examining Sept. 11 and its aftermath from innumerable viewpoints. Except for a short time on the fatal day, I successfully avoided watching TV, but I was drawn to the op-ed pages because a part of me still wanted to comprehend the incomprehensible.

Despite all this reading, I was as confused as ever, but I will say that I had gained new respect for the media. I did not agree with all of the viewpoints expressed, but virtually all the columns contained something of value and managed to strike a tone that, as I had learned from my own efforts, is not easy to achieve. Even those journalists who tend to hyperventilate over trivialities reached a level of professionalism not seen before.

A prevailing theme was the necessity of “moving on.” Not everyone agreed on the direction, pace, or manner of the movement, but that was the consensus. Coupled with this were expressions that we will be moving on with a new perspective and with a different set of priorities (even though there is disagreement about what these priorities are).

On a personal level, we all know what it’s like to have a tragic event dramatically alter our perspective and make us review our priorities. Even my young students sometimes write about how a death in the family caused them to recognize that much of what we fuss about and consider important day to day is insignificant in the larger scheme of things. When we are struck by tragedy or misfortune, we reassess our priorities; most of us, in time, find that we are better people as a result.

When catastrophe strikes on a larger scale, as we have just seen, the effects are similar, except that they are magnified enormously. Though I am still trying, intellectually and emotionally, to sort it all out, I am beginning to recognize that the nation has embarked upon a period of priority adjustment, not just in how we defend ourselves but in how we behave toward each other.

As the wounds heal and the pain subsides, I wonder whether we will continue in this endeavor or whether we will gradually slide back into our old ways of seeking instant gratification and myopically focusing on self. I hope we will not.

Gradually, the flags have gone from half-staff back to full staff, as indeed they should, a symbol that we are recovering and strong, despite our losses. But we, a people prone to short attention spans and collective amnesia, must never forget. We cannot undo the past, but we can shape a better future – if we keep our priorities where they belong.

Rich Turner