My closet patriotism has emerged. My anger has failed to surface. My sorrow has been constant.

I try to comprehend the big picture of what will happen now. What are the best choices? In what direction lies resolution? As if it were up to me. I cast my vote. My leaders are duly elected and in charge. My choices lie in what actions I can take as an individual now.

Do I support President Bush? Yes. I didn't vote for him, but he is the leader of our nation right now, and now is not the time for divisive politics. There aren't going to be any completely right or wrong actions in how the U.S. responds to the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11. No matter what we do, it will be ugly and harsh and difficult. Sometimes that's the only way you can go. We can hope it makes us stronger, and we can try to learn from it. I hope it is not too ugly. I hope that the people in our leadership are trying to look at the big picture, too.

You all know that my life is full of joy and love, pleasures simple and great. I try very hard never to take that for granted. But I have been granted these wonderful things�through the sheer fortune of having been born in the United States. I live in a nation that tells me I have the unalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That I was created equal to all men. No matter how idealistic or ignobly applied throughout our history those sentiments from the Declaration of Independence may be, I believe it is an ideal worth fighting for.

My generation is untested. We've never faced anything like this. My greatest hope is that we can set aside our cynicism and apathy, not just today, but for the rest of our lives. I hope that we pull together, that we learn from our experiences, that we act selflessly, that we give willingly, and that we discover how to conduct the business of our lives based not on what will benefit us, but on what is best.

On Tuesday morning, after our office had closed and we had been sent home, I went down to the couryard of my office complex, which is much like a mini version of the World Trade Center. Several towers are filled with people working, shopping, eating, living. A mass transit station lies beneath.

In the courtyard I saw a man I'd seen many times before. Tall, athletic, shaven head, cool demeanor. He's a waiter. There he was in his crisp white shirt and neatly pressed black slacks. On his knees. With one hand covering his bent face, the other holding a cellphone limply at his side. And he was sobbing.

I've been making time to be alone with my thoughts for three days now. I've spent time with my family. With my wife. I've tried to do my job. And I've tried to decide where I stand.

I stand here.

The same blood donor, the same charity giver, the same neighbor, the same dyke, the same ol' Badsnake. Still untested. But when the time comes�and it will�for me to make the tough decisions, for me to make the sacrifices, for me to show that I deserve those unalienable rights, I will not back away from the challenge.

This is my resolution.