I had just moved from lower Manhattan to Montreal, and I spent the next two days in agony worrying about my friends, a couple of whom I knew might have been at the towers that day. Phone service to the US was completely unavailable, so worrying was the only thing I could do.

It turned out the only person I knew who died was a young woman who used to be my travel agent who had been promoted to a job at the World Trade Center. Her name was Gloria, and she was beautiful and kind.

I watched my Canadian neighbors stand up in solidarity. I watched American flags flying from seemingly every automobile and from many buildings.

Then I watched Bush slowly squander those feelings of good will with his bumbling, warmongering adventure in Iraq. I watched my Canadian neighbors flabbergasted that the Democratic party and the American press in general just went along with it.