Things don’t always work out the way we plan. Thank goodness they don’t.
And this Sept. 11 — 12 years since the terrorist attacks that took the lives of thousands of Americans and set the United States on a path of several wars that would last more than a decade — I learned that lesson again when I jumped on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle only to realize that we had a common bond that couldn’t be broken.
Mitch Hannon was that biker. He saw the confused look on my face as I was scouring Constitution Ave. trying to find the “Million Muslim” marchers that had planned to converge at The Mall in Washington D.C.
I was sitting at a red light in a taxi cab, with a jovial driver, who happened to be Muslim. “I don’t think you will find any Muslim marchers out here today — not today,” he said.