Born in 2009

If you were born in 2009, you came into a country that had just been through a trauma and was cautiously, carefully trying to rebuild. Obama took office in January with an approval rating of sixty-seven percent and the largest inaugural crowd in history, the promise of change enormous and the practical problems—two wars, the worst economy since the Depression—daunting to match. The stimulus bill passed in February.

Cash for Clunkers moved old gas-guzzlers off the lots. The unemployment rate climbed to ten percent and stayed there. The auto companies went through bankruptcy—GM and Chrysler—and it felt like something fundamental about American industry was breaking.

But the Affordable Care Act was in negotiation. The swine flu pandemic was genuinely alarming for several months. Michael Jackson died in June at fifty and the collective grief was disorienting—he had been so famous for so long that his absence created a visible hole.

*The Hurt Locker* and *Up* and *Inglourious Basterds* were at the theaters. Taylor Swift's *Fearless* was the country-pop crossover that rewrote the rules. Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" was inescapable.

The number of Facebook users crossed three hundred million. Twitter was growing exponentially. The iPhone was in its second generation and the smartphone was clearly the future.

The country was chastened, hopeful in a quieter key, and beginning the long work of recovery.