In the heart of San Francisco's largest gay neighborhood, a makeshift memorial grew, bouquet by bouquet, to the rugby player who was unafraid. Yeah, Bingham was gay.
In Windham, a peace grew inside Lyz Glick. "I think God had this larger purpose for him," she said. "He was supposed to fly out the night before, but couldn't. I had Emmy one month early, so Jeremy got to see her. You can't tell me God isn't at work there."
In Cranbury, N.J., a baby grew in Lisa Beamer, Todd's wife, their third child. Hearing the report last Friday of her husband's heroics, Lisa said, "made my life worth living again."
In Washington, a movement grew in Congress to give the four men the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest award a civilian can receive.
At a time like this, sports are trivial. But what the best athletes can do—keep their composure amid chaos, form a plan when all seems lost and find the guts to carry it out—may be why the Capitol isn't a charcoal pit.
My 26-year-old niece, Jessica Robinson, works for Congressman Lane Evans (D., Ill.). Jessica was in the Capitol that morning. This Christmas I'll get to see her smiling face.
I'm glad there were four guys up there I could count on.