9/11 memorial tower in the fog

It’s taken me a long time to write this post, because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.  But, here goes.

 A bunch of women friends and I met in NYC in May and some of us decided to visit the 9/11 memorial.

I wasn’t sure how it would be for me.

Politicians have poisoned my thoughts on the events of Sept. 11, 2001 so it’s hard for me to get clarity. First, the Bush Administration fear-mongered to get us to agree to lose certain important civil rights. Everything it did and even names chosen,  such as Homeland Security, aimed to promote fear, because Cheney and Company knew that fear is the very best way to control people.  Memorials are also chance for every politician in the world to posture and we’ve seen so much of that since that it really has jaded me.  When a politician says “Never forget” you can bet that he or she cares more for the political benefit gained from the human loss than for the human loss itself.

Yes, cold, isn’t it? But that’s how I think.

And while it’s so much easier to accept the “official” version of what happened that day, it doesn’t take a conspiracy theorist to know that we haven’t been told what actually happened.

As a man I know who is as far from a conspiracy theorist as possible said the other day, “I don’t know what happened on Sept. 11 but I do know that it’s certainly NOT what they said happened.” Agree.

Be that as it may,  what always gets lost in all the politics is the human element. And so, that’s what I chose to focus on for my visit in May.  I’d been tremendously moved by the Oklahoma City memorial and wondered how I would feel about this one.

Security was…strong. Evident. Everywhere. Uniforms. Dogs.   There had been no security at all to see the Oklahoma City memorial in late 2001. No visitor passes. No screening. We simply hopped out of the car and walked up.  But here? Long lines and airport-worthy security.  But the lines moved quickly.

9/11 Memorial visitor pass

There’s plenty of signage and a nice map that came along with the online tickets we’d reserved. It was easy to find our way to and into the Memorial.

The 9/11 memorial tower

The tower is  beautiful and  imposing.

When we arrived, the  fog was just starting to burn off, adding to the mystical mood I was in.

The scale of the memorial was massive, encompassing all of Ground Zero.  The design is called Reflecting Absence. It is meant to be a forest of 400 sweet gum and white oak trees with two square pools in the center, where the Twin Towers once stood.

Quite a few people strolled in quiet contemplation. Some sat on benches and meditated.

The trees are still  young. As they mature and grow, the feel of the memorial will change. For the better, I believe. Shady paths and huge trunks are called for.

But I won’t see it in my lifetime.

A single tree survived, scorched and broken, with one fresh shoot. It was rescued and nurtured back to health.

Only tree that survived the collapse of the Twin Towers

  The sole surviving tree was protected by cables. To me, though, it felt like the tree had been imprisoned, maybe the same way I think we’ve been imprisoned by the event. I could still see scars where the trees limbs had been torn off.

It reminded me that loved ones were torn off in the same way and survivors are scarred, too.

One of the pools.

It’s impossible to adequately convey the immensity of each pool and fountain.  Huge. Grey.  Stark.   The sterility left me cold.

I tried to wrap my heart around it, but it seemed too big, too sterile, too difficult to relate to.

Here’s what didn’t leave me cold:

Names on the 9/11 Memorial

The names. Each representing someone’s child, spouse, parent, friend, colleague, coworker. Almost 3,000 of them, surrounding each pool. Exact locations for each were determined by a complex algorithm.

I stood and traced my finger around some of the engraved names, wondering who they were and how their loved ones were doing. Whether their families came here often and if they felt the presence of the dead here.

If they found comfort here.

I do not pretend to understand killing of any kind. Not done by terrorists, by lunatics, by criminals, soldiers or by the state. I do not understand it. I can not accept it.

All these deaths on the same day.  Ahhh.

Dedication to first responders

And then, outside, a dedication to first responders that took my breath away.

First responder brother keeping the dedication clean

And also moving: a fellow first responder scrubbing the grime off the memorial, keeping it clean in memory of his brothers and sisters. The sheer humanity of this gesture, his activity, moved me more than the zillion dollar memorial.

The sound of rushing water surrounded us

The pervasive sound of the rushing water spoke of the infinite nature of life. That despite horrific loss it goes on, inexorably.

We go on. What else can we do?

Here’s a video of one of the pools, with the sound of rushing water: