We all lived through September 11. I was here at the Capitol that day. I saw the evil of our enemies written in the smoke rising above the Pentagon.
--A D.C. local
I thought having my own personal tour guide on Memorial Day was cool. How about your own personal tour guide any time you want? Now, that’s cool.
Stephen and I met up today at 10 am at the Jefferson Memorial. We had a list of places to head and all this had to occur before I had to work. He updated me on his dating life and how work was going as we pedaled on the Mt. Vernon Trail. We stopped on the north side of Reagan National Airport and watched the planes fly, literally, right over our heads.
We chatted and avoided the plethora of runners. I was overly concerned that I had a flat tire. Alas! I did not.
We pedaled through Crystal City and over to the Air Force Memorial. As a daughter and sister to men in the Airforce, it was necessary. This memorial is certainly visible from many places in D.C.; however it is cool up close.
The upward pattern is apparently how jets break away when flying in pattern and the layout of the memorial is a landing strip. The memorial didn’t strike somberness in me in me as much as it forced me to marvel at all the technology, all the power, the sheer fact that we can get in big metal objects and can be across the ocean in a few hours. The fact that jets take off of aircraft carriers is amazing.
From there we stopped at the Pentagon. Stephen has a friend whom lost a loved one at the Pentagon crash site. I can only imagine how much different the experience is for him to visit the site than it was for me.
My life in September 2001 came crashing into my surreal summer. I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’ll explain the Memorial first and then talk about the crash site. For the two are different.
The Memorial lies in the path the jet took as it crashed into the Pentagon. There are 184 benches. The benches facing the Pentagon signify those who died on the plane. The benches facing the plane’s trajectory were the lives that were inside the Pentagon. A memorial of the literal collision. Each name is etched on the front of the bench and there is water under each bench. The benches are aligned in decades, youngest life to oldest, 3-71. It is literally a timeline of 184 untimely and unjust deaths. If there are names etched in the stone under the water, those lives were lost as well and were related to the person named on the bench. I saw an entire family etched. The ending of a lineage, right in front of my face.
The water trickles. The officer cleans the pebbles from the small pools of water beneath the benches. It is eerily quiet. It is validly somber. Everyone at this Memorial, at this time, lived through September 11, 2001 (except for a few kids, details, schemeatails). Everyone here has a different story. Everyone here finds something different in this place.
As I look towards the Pentagon, I see the line of demarcation in the Pentagon wall where it has been rebuilt. All of the sudden the Washington Monument takes on new meaning. What do you think that meant to those who had to restart the Monument and see the line where construction ceased during the Civil War? Death? Freedom? A lost loved one? A useless, unjust, cruel war? A new America? A different America? A reminder of how cruel and heartless the world can seem?
What did I find in that line? I found a tear in my eye. I found a solace for the 184 lives that are signified behind me. I found that line in my life. I found my 9/11 crash site. I turned back around to the Memorial and wandered around some more.
I found it odd, at first, that the ground was covered in small gravel. I originally thought grass would be a better option; however, upon reflection, gravel fits the bill. There is a garden surrounding the memorial and the gravel is a contrast to that. It is raw and shows how raw the wound is. The gravel displays how recently this occurred. How fresh this event is in our history. How there is a Memorial not for people who chose a life of service to this country but for people who were literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, and, lost it all.
I wandered around and thought about September 11, 2001. The fight I had with my then boyfriend. The fact that on that day our relationship was over; I knew it but in my youthfulness I hung on for another couple of months or so (I’m not really sure how long actually at this point). The reality of what a different person I am today than I was in 2001. The crash of 9/11/2001 Michelle and 9/11/2011 Michelle and how drastically different the two are. Or should I say, will be.
The fact that this Memorial signifies so much to me is incredible. In a hundred years, it will be just like Pearl Harbor. Somewhat of a tourist trap, clothed in honoring the fallen; however, Pearl Harbor was different to those that lived through it. The Pentagon is much different for me than it will be for those that follow in future generations. It will be another D.C. must see. But the gravity of the Memorial will be lost on the tours and trying to cram in all there is to see in the area. The weight of how this country changed because of that crash site will be lost as the stone fades on the Pentagon wall and meshes into a less contrasting color. The significance of this place will not be what it was to me, to our generation. For future generations, it will not be a gush of emotion, a flow of everything I experienced that day and in the following weeks. Only the lives that experienced that Day can have the replay of those hours recalled at a moment’s notice.
The Pentagon Memorial therefore is, to me, a crash site. A crash site of a plane, a loss of life, a loss of innocence, a new way of seeing the world, a new way of seeing the United States. A new way of seeing myself. I rose from the ashes of my September 11, 2001 crash site today, June 26, 2011 at the Pentagon Memorial.
The Pentagon Memorial therefore is, to me, a memorial. A memorial to Lives that did not choose to serve to this country, a memorial to people whom did not seek out a name etched in permanence in our Nation’s Capitol. A Memorial.
From there we pedaled to the Iwo Jima Memorial. And then had lunch at Deli Dhaba. I pedaled to work.
Worked.
Came home to this.
Make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt
I won't weigh you down
with good intention
won't make fire out of clay
or other inventions
will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come
while we're waiting
everyone is waiting
and when we're done
soul searching
as we carried the weight
and died for the cause
is misery
made beautiful
right before our eyes
will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand
will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come while we're waiting
everyone is waiting
--Sarah McLachlan
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