tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50597604270303450512024-03-13T18:23:19.358-04:00My visit to the 9/11 Memorialby Artie Van Whyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12845691854734907291noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5059760427030345051.post-3381491224026352392012-04-17T12:11:00.000-04:002012-04-17T12:11:55.595-04:00<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a Saturday. November 10th, 2001. On the following Monday I would be returning
to my office building; across from where the World Trade Center had stood just
two months before. In preparation for
it, I decided to go down to my building; to what was now being called "Ground
Zero."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was very early in the morning as I came up out of the
subway; carrying a bouquet of roses. I walked
to the corner of Broadway and Fulton
Street.
Wooden a-frame barricades prevented going beyond that point. All I could do was stand there and look at
the still smoldering ruins of Building Number 5 of the World Trade Center; the
smell of burning debris still thick in the air.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t remember many other people being there. It was so still and quiet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I broke down, putting my face down into my hands, sobbing. I felt an arm go around my shoulders. I looked up into the face of a policeman who
looked down at me and gently said "let it out."
I buried my face onto his chest and wept; his arms holding me
tightly. A moment of simple, grace
filled humanity I will never forget.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I composed myself, another officer joined us; his partner
I assume. I told them my story of where
I was the morning of 9/11. Of what I
did; what I saw; what I felt.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Their kindness in listening prompted me to ask if it would
be possible for me to go down to Ground Zero; to stand where I had stood that
morning when everything changed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They led me past the barriers and we walked down Fulton Street
towards what had been the World
Trade Center. It was now a massiveness of rubble. Debris accented with skeletal sections of the
towers that had stood there.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUZlzelVVZE/T4xVB_zkAkI/AAAAAAAAAKA/04CBOiQm9RA/s1600/x-rubble+world-trade-center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUZlzelVVZE/T4xVB_zkAkI/AAAAAAAAAKA/04CBOiQm9RA/s320/x-rubble+world-trade-center.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">The two police officers stopped and allowed me to walk up to
the devastation. It was the most grievous
place to be. I was unaware of anything
else. My heart ached and I cried. I got down on my knees and placed the roses
on the ground; a bit of beauty among the ruin.
It was in that moment I knew I was kneeling before sacred
ground. I imagined the spirits of those
who had died rising up to the heavens.
The sanctity that those departed souls brought to this place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was at the graveside of many lost lives. I was humbled and honored to even be allowed
that close. I know I must have
prayed. I trust that my heart was
speaking the words I couldn’t give voice to as I paid my personal tribute to
those who were gone.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I walked away from Ground Zero, and those two angels in
blue uniforms, and headed back to the subway I cried once again. But it was with a feeling of gratitude toward
God, the world and the universe for the gift of having just stood on hallowed
ground.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have continued to remember Ground Zero in that way. I always will.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And now, on April 6th of 2012, I was heading to the
9/11 Memorial for the first time. I
tried to have no expectations.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My partner, Bill, and I, along with two of our friends, went
to where the line to get into the Memorial began; at the northwest corner of Albany and Greenwich
Streets. We each held a pass needed to get
in. One can’t just come to the Memorial
on a whim. You have to reserve a free
ticket online; print it out and have it with you at all times; along with a
photo ID. I had reserved our tickets,
which would allow us to enter the Memorial at 5:00 p.m., weeks before.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Taking our place at the end of the very long line, I was thankful
for the pleasant weather, since we were standing outside. But I immediately began to feel uneasy. The line was too reminiscent of being at an
airport or waiting to get on a popular ride at an amusement park and that
bothered me. I knew we were all there to
see the Memorial but I wasn’t there out of curiosity or with a sincere desire
to see where the tragedy had taken place.
I had been there the morning of that tragedy so, for me, this was as if
I was waiting to see a loved one laid to rest.
It didn’t feel right; standing there among people in casual
conversations; waiting for the line to move.
Just as it wouldn’t if I was forced to stand in a long line of strangers
outside of a funeral home to view a member of my family. That’s the degree to which I feel connected
to those who died on 9/11. The ones
whose deaths I witnessed and those I didn’t.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t mean to give the impression that I presume that my
grief is deeper than anyone else's or that my experience of 9/11 makes me
special in any way. We all were affected
by what happened on 9/11. We each have a
story of that day; whether we were there or across the country; whether we lost
someone or just wept for all those we didn’t know. There are those, though, who were affected personally;
be it losing a loved one; having a physical or mental affliction now; dealing
with guilt for surviving; or living with images that can’t be erased. What we who were there experienced that day
is unique to each of us. We may have
witnessed the same things; smelled the same smells; heard the same sounds, but what
the day did to us, individually, is our own.
The imprint of the trauma on our lives or the repercussions or the loss
can’t be compared or measured. It is
unique for every person.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All of this was going through my mind as we eventually came
to a sidewalk covered by protective scaffolding that led us to a room where we were
scanned; taking off our belts and jackets; emptying our pockets of everything;
from wallets to cell phones.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5O_1HMioXRE/T42S3ck3KhI/AAAAAAAAALE/0whcFI3bXdw/s1600/x-memorial+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5O_1HMioXRE/T42S3ck3KhI/AAAAAAAAALE/0whcFI3bXdw/s320/x-memorial+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Past security, we were led back outside where we walked a
short distance down another walkway.
Turning a corner, the Memorial was before us. The first thing I noticed was that all of the
trees were leafless; bare and skeletal.
They weren’t the lush green as pictured in an aerial shot of the
Memorial that I had seen. The trees have
been symmetrically planted on an expanse of concrete; stark and
impersonal. Those two words can also
describe what I was feeling. There was
no emotion. No tears. That bothered me and I asked myself why I
wasn’t feeling anything.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We walked to the south pool; the "footprint" of the south
tower. I watched the water cascading
over the sides and, again, nothing. I
said to Bill, "I’m not feeling anything."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We walked over to the north pool; past the structure that
will be the museum. That, too, seemed
stark in its design. This time I asked
Bill, "Why aren’t I feeling any emotion?" He said, "Maybe because nothing is familiar." Yes.
That was it exactly. I was
disoriented. I could have been standing
in the middle of any random memorial. I
wanted to point out to Bill where the steps were that I ran up the morning of
9/11; running to save the people I saw jumping.
I couldn’t determine where they might have been. Nor was there any indication of where I had
stood under the shelter of Building Number 5 as I helplessly watched; unable to
rescue.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, the two pools allowed me to know where the twin towers
stood but there was nothing that reminded me of all that the World Trade Center
had been. The plaza between the north
and south towers had always been vibrant and full of life; especially in the
summer. The noontime concerts, the food
vendors and their carts, the benches we all sat on as we ate lunch, the
fountain in the center of the plaza. There
was nothing to convey to people who had never seen the World Trade
Center before 9/11 just
how magnificent it was. The "city within
a city" as I called it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-srM_dIo8uQM/T4xHzudy36I/AAAAAAAAAJY/B6ZEnLHOCk8/s1600/x-sphere+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-srM_dIo8uQM/T4xHzudy36I/AAAAAAAAAJY/B6ZEnLHOCk8/s320/x-sphere+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></span><span style="font-size: large;">The centerpiece of that glorious fountain in the center of
the plaza was "The Sphere," a sculpture created by Fritz Koenig. The Sphere had been found amidst the rumble
and debris after 9/11. It was damaged but
still whole. The finding of it was one
of those small stories during such a dark time that shone a bit of light; a
suggestion of hope. It is now on display
in Battery Park, but I was wondering why it wasn’t here in the Memorial; standing
exactly where it once stood. <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">That
would have given the Memorial a much needed familiarity. Ironically, I found out the next day that The
Sphere is being moved from Battery Park to be stored in an airport hangar. Though at one time promised that The Sphere would
be a part of the Memorial, it is not going to be. Supposedly, the designers have ruled it can't
be there in order, they say, to protect the integrity of the design. I say to hell with the design. That Sphere belongs as the focal point of the
Memorial. The decision to not let it be and
the city’s acceptance of that decision are unconscionable.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VXsZtK7hjXQ/T4xHxqs21HI/AAAAAAAAAI4/BhkFgEVorc4/s1600/x-damaged+sphere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VXsZtK7hjXQ/T4xHxqs21HI/AAAAAAAAAI4/BhkFgEVorc4/s1600/x-damaged+sphere.jpg" /></a></span><span style="font-size: large;">We had planned on staying at the Memorial until dusk because
I was told it was beautiful at night. I
hope it is. But I didn’t want to spend
any more time there; so we left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Upon exiting we passed a Visitors Center. I was hoping that the Center would have what
the Memorial was lacking at this point.
I was hoping there might be pictures of the World Trade
Center before 9/11. Or, better yet, a miniature model of it. I wanted Bill and my friends and others to
see for themselves what a wonderful place the World Trade
Center had been. But, sadly, there was nothing of the
sort. Instead it was filled with 9/11
Memorial souvenirs. </span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-owO2xxc7sHc/T42PNDFqOfI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7gP9W4i7Ewo/s1600/x-key+chain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-owO2xxc7sHc/T42PNDFqOfI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7gP9W4i7Ewo/s1600/x-key+chain.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">It was a gift shop
where one could buy a 9/11 Memorial pencil or tee shirt or coffee mug; </span><span style="font-size: large;">or the
men's 9/11</span><span style="font-size: large;">Memorial silk tie</span><span style="font-size: large;"> for $79.50. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I finally felt an emotion and it was anger. This is what the tragedy of 9/11 has been
reduced to; a souvenir key chain?</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to believe that the majority of people who will visit
the 9/11 Memorial will do so with the sincerest of motives; to remember that
day in September and those who died. But
I fear that for some it will primarily be a tourist attraction; something to
add to the list of "what to see while in New
York City"; along with the Empire State
Building and the Statue
of Liberty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know that I am in the minority in my reaction to the
Memorial; particularly among other 9/11 survivors and I am thankful for
that. I truly am glad that the Memorial
can be a place of consolation and comfort for others. I’m glad the 9/11 families have the Memorial
as a physical tribute to memorialize their loved ones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, for me, I will hold onto my memory of kneeling before Ground
Zero; overcome by the holiness of that spot.
Sadly, that ground I considered so sacred is now covered with cement
slabs and throngs of tourists.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps nothing built to commemorate that day could be a
place of comfort for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope my sentiment about the Memorial offends no one. If it does, I do apologize. But mine is just one opinion; a singular
reaction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Though I didn’t personally know anyone who lost their life on 9/11, I
feel personally connected to all those who died. Their deaths affect me to this day. I had never witnessed the death of anyone
until that morning. There are images
that will be with me for the rest of my life.
I want to bring honor to the memories of those who are gone. And I want people who had never been to the World
Trade Center to know what a magical, extraordinary place it had been; with its
buildings, the twin towers, the plaza and the people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those of us, who were there, should never stop telling our
stories of that day; remembering the ones who died. The people of New York City who worked there
or shopped there or took visiting friends or relatives there can keep memories of
the World Trade Center, itself, alive.
And people all over the world will always remember their first
impressions of those monumental twin towers when seeing them for the first time. We can each be a small piece of a mosaic of recollections,
reflections and remembrances of the World Trade Center.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sFiE-19kz68/T42I7wpltiI/AAAAAAAAAKI/rhsAZtaxiUs/s1600/x-towers+with+print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sFiE-19kz68/T42I7wpltiI/AAAAAAAAAKI/rhsAZtaxiUs/s320/x-towers+with+print.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I am grateful that I’m here today to tell my story; knowing
there are so many stories of that day that we will never know. So I will do what I can to assure that people
never forget. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps that can be my own
personal memorial to 9/11.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Artie Van Why</span><br />
<br /></div>
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</div>by Artie Van Whyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12845691854734907291noreply@blogger.com8