Shortly after the world-changing events of September 11, 2001, I witnessed a remarkable interview on a morning news program. A reporter was talking with a woman who had recently lost her father to old age, husband to cancer and only child to terrorism. Her son was one of the New York City firefighters who rushed into the burning buildings – while everyone else was racing away – and did not come out.

Yet the lady seemed genuinely grateful for all that she’d been given, was going on with her life in spite of her grief and was even looking forward to the future, although it would be without three important people. While she was amazingly composed, considering the circumstances, the young man asking her questions was visibly shaken by her misfortune, and indeed appeared on the verge of tears. Then, right on national television, the woman’s maternal instinct kicked into gear and she quickly became the one doing the comforting, even gently patting him on the arm and whispering, “It’s OK.”

I was stunned.

Here this poor lady had just suffered a trio of tremendous tragedies within the span of a few short weeks, and yet all she could do was give thanks for being blessed with a kind father, for marrying the love of her life, for enjoying 28 years with her boy. She was not going to focus on the pain any more than she absolutely had to. Instead, she chose to concentrate her attention, her appreciation, her love on the things she still possessed.

“It’s a sunny morning,” she said. “I’m healthy. I have my mother, my two dogs, my home, my garden. My best friend lives five minutes away if I need a shoulder to cry on. Each day when I wake up, I thank God for my life, my blessings, my memories of Dad and Robert and Bobby, all the wonderful times we were allowed to share together.”

So much heartbreak, yet even more perseverance. Deep sorrow, yet deeper understanding. The bad, the awful, the horrific, yet also the good, the sublime, the perfect. Suddenly, that woman’s positive attitude and serene smile seemed to me symbolic of this country, my homeland.

And why the terrorists hate us.

For we Americans have so many things that our enemies do not. They envy our health, wealth, history, numerous opportunities and countless success stories. They are jealous of our lifestyle, our culture, our music, our inventions, our jaw-droppingly beautiful scenery as opposed to their piles of sun-baked sand. They seethe with anger when they hear of our diverse philosophies, multiple political parties and dozens of different religions.

While they have only one.

But most of all, the devils despise America because of her innate, inbred and unshakable happiness. For we Yankees are, mostly, a happy people, and they are not. We like to sing, dance and celebrate. They like to scowl and brood and feel sorry for themselves. We laugh right out loud – often at ourselves – while they do not know how.

The Muslim extremists will only win this war if they succeed in taking away our joy, our gleam in the eye, our spring in the step, our sense of humor, our love of life, and replace it with fear, hatred, ignorance, intolerance and ultimately, unhappiness – their stock-in-trade.

Since watching that interview 14 years ago, I am often reminded of the woman in New York City who lost so much. And yet it is not her sadness I recall, but rather her message to us all, which is: Focus on the beauty, the goodness, the many gifts that we have right now and not on the stuff that was stolen from us in the past. For there is nothing more precious than the present moment.

Perhaps when we lucky Americans learn to count our considerable blessings on a regular basis, we will not concentrate so much on the occasional curse.

Curt Melliger is a freelance writer who lives near Cortez. Reach him at kmiller1963@q.com.