In New York City for a wedding, we picked that afternoon to go to Ground Zero.
It was smart to have the 9/11 Memorial & Museum’s somber resonance be somewhat alleviated by the joy of an affirming celebration.
Going to the 9/11 Memorial and Museum was as stirring and life-affirming as reading Anne Frank’s acclaimed The Diary of a Young Girl. As I finished the 1995 release of her memoir, I took it to my mom, who was an avid reader. She turned her head away saying she couldn’t possibly read something so forlorn and distressful. I tried to help her understand that although written by a young girl in extreme circumstances, the book is filled with a positive perspective that increased my appreciation of the smallest of good things. Mom would not bend and read it, which made me sad because I know she would have felt compassion and kindness toward the young author.
We Learn From Life Events That Come with the Highest Cost
The 9/11 Memorial, “Reflecting Absence,” is beautiful. The waterfall is a delicate balance between serene and impactful. You see and hear the rushing water that spills to a slow and subdued flow as it glides into the empty center square. The liquid calms the racing of your heart caused by seeing the nearly 3,000 names etched through the sides. There are people everywhere, yet there is no jostling, none of the usual annoying behavior that occurs when you are encompassed by a titanic crowd. Unlike people taking smiling selfies while on the USS Arizona National Memorial, this assemblage showed the requisite reverence.
The 9/11 Memorial Museum Building
It is difficult to use the word “museum” for the structure housing the artifacts and history from that dreadful day. Mentally, it’s understandable that museum is the proper word for it. But having this event occur in my living history makes museum feel incorrect. Perhaps I could call it a tribute, but “gift” is not at all right. The waterfall is considered the Memorial, so what I’m left with is thinking of the museum as a commemorative site. Awkward words, but suitable.
Inside, there are numerous exits scattered around. It is immediately apparent why some people could choose to exit early. From the outside, the building has a very small footprint, fooling the visitor into thinking, this won’t take long. Our self-tour lasted almost three hours. You begin on the topmost floor with a short movie made exclusively for the museum. The film includes snippets from President Bush, Condoleezza Rice, and others relating what was happening throughout that horrific morning.
You begin your slow wind down through the displays until you wind up seven floors below ground, staring up at the slurry wall and realizing that you truly are standing on the bedrock of a symbol of American strength.
Containing Your Emotions is Grueling
At one point I turned to my husband and said, “I’m done in.” In minutes, I realized that Alex was speeding up his viewing. Hugging him, I explained, “I don’t mean for us to stop. I mean that I am emotionally drained.” The 9/11 Memorial does that to you. It should do that to you.
Be prepared for feeling the devastation of the morning’s events, of the days and weeks that followed. But don’t think those emotions will be from seeing anything gruesome. You do not. You see triumph and the human spirit rising up and you learn, you learn, you learn.
Drawing on willpower that came from somewhere else, I watched the film tucked into one enclosed area—the film of the second plane hitting. On September 11th, I was at work. By 9:03, we were online, rapt by the news coverage. We stared in horror as the plane struck in real-time. It was surreal then and remains surreal now.
That day, our company—with offices in one of the towers—closed operations at 10:30. Driving home via a two-lane back road, tears cascading as I listened to the radio for updates. I came upon a small bit of road construction. For the singular moment where I had to stop near a workman, we looked directly at each other. In a rush as my car moved forward, multiple thoughts sped through my head: He probably thinks what’s wrong with that idiot woman causing her to cry and then I gasped, Oh my God, there are people who do not know that this has happened.
I have often reflected on that man and wondered if, when he finally heard the news did he think, That’s why that woman was crying.
Allow Yourself to Feel and to Keep Feeling
Although there were many times throughout the museum when I couldn’t stem my emotions, at the end I did not succumb to depression. Much like reading Anne’s stirring memoir, my heart was sorrowful and angry. The experience (the book) did nothing to alleviate the bewilderment as to why anyone would do something so devastating under the guise of their god (their leader). But I was grateful I read and I was grateful we went. What a grand education it would be if the museum could tour our country. Children born since 2001, teenagers who were too young that year, and adults—we who remember too well—could absorb what happened, learn about the evil behind the hijackings, and how everything in our country changed on a singular September morning.
*Read Flight 93 Memorial
When I was a kid, adults would talk about where they were when they heard JFK had been shot. I never could understand the true impact since I wasn’t there. I remember an adult asking me where I had been that day and I looked at her with bewilderment – obviously I was too young to have been there. But now that there are legal adults who weren’t even alive on 9/11, I understand how those adults felt when I was a kid. It’s almost imaginable that anyone alive wasn’t there because that moment feels frozen in time – almost as if it is still just yesterday.
That is a good parallel to draw, Erica. I couldn’t understand either how they could pinpoint where they were and what they were doing. But yes, I’ll remember 9/11 forever. It does feel frozen in time. Hard to believe it was 18 years ago.
I will never forget that day. Driving to work and listening to the radio they were still thinking that someone accidentally flew into the tower. Then watching the news and realizing it was intentional. Thank you for writing this.
How dense am I, Jackie, that with our time difference, I just realized how your morning experience varied from mine. Wow. I am impressed that you had the stamina to get to work that day.
I’ve been to the site but as for the museum, I’ve taken the same approach as your mother did to the Diary of Anne Frank. At the time I lived and worked right across the river in Jersey City. That afternoon I spent at the docks in Jersey City helping load the food and supplies that were mostly donated by local merchants onto boats for the rescue workers. The memory that sticks in my mind is seeing a big, tough-looking fireman exhaustedly returning from the site on one of the boats. As he got closer I could see tears streaming down his face and he was weeping uncontrollably.
Ken, I don’t think anything in my imagination can feel what you or that fireman were feeling that day being right there. It is beyond me.
There truly is nothing maudlin about the Museum and as Flora noted sometimes just the memorial pool is enough. Thank you for sharing a bit of what you were experiencing on 9/11/01.
Rosemary, thank you for sharing this. I visited the memorial pool and wall and we went up in the new towers but we did not have time to tour the museum. At that point I was relieved we could avoid what I feared would be a painful experience. Your sharing has lead me to be less afraid and thankful to those who created a place to remember.
Flora, we did not get to go into the new towers–I am envious that you did that! Yes, if you get back to NYC, I think you would be okay in the museum. It is all about the remembering.