Editor's Note: Once Around the Sun

In the lobby of this office building, there sits a miniature Lincoln. It has sat there for nearly 50 years, and the plaque beneath it tells visitors it's an original bronze used as a model in the creation of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington.
One day to the next, the Lincoln stares blankly at the comings and goings of the building's occupants. Free from the burden of time, it has a kind of supernatural quality — one summoned, perhaps, by the sense that it cloisters knowledge beyond the grasp of those of us who mark time in days, hours, and minutes.
The Lincoln sits about 40 feet from the building's main entrance and 60 feet from the curb of 42nd Street, the fabled Manhattan Island pathway, which each morning — provided clear skies prevail — becomes momentarily ablaze as the sun leaps over the East River from Queens and advances westward toward New Jersey.
The timing of the sun's fiery leap varies according to the time of year. In the summer it's early, maybe 6 a.m.; in the winter it's later, often after 7. For this reason, most of the building's occupants find themselves in sync with the 42nd Street sunrise at most only a few times a year. For me, that week routinely occurs in mid-September, and on no morning do I recall the skies being more clear or the sun's rays more brilliant than on that of September 11th last.
As summer winds down and the days begin to shorten, I find myself, once again, growing in sync with the sun. But what was once a nurturing rite of summer's final days is now a stark reminder of that awful day — a day when reason lost its footing, and sunlight was to illuminate only destruction.
Like a beggar with a tin cup, September 11th sits on the calendar of modern America pleading for answers.
With this issue of Consulting, we have parted with our traditional cover feature and joined the search for them. To do this, we reached out to seven of the consulting profession's best minds and asked them to share their thoughts on how the tragic events of 9/11 have altered their worldviews. The feature titled "Once Around the Sun" begins on page 18.
Our search for answers ends where the working day begins — in the lobby where Lincoln sits. "We cannot escape history," our 16th president once wrote. "The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down to the last generation." Ensnared by history, a generation that counted minutes now counts lives.