Last weekend on my visit to New York City I made a pilgrimage to the 9/11 Memorial. These photos are straight from the camera as I am playing catch up still at home and at work to really do them justice. However I have so many stories to share, I have to start sharing with imperfect pictures.
A visit to the 9/11 was not on my “to do” list or the famous “bucket list” that so many have of things they must do. But it seemed like the right thing to do. It was hot, sticky, chaotic and the lines were worse than any Disney World line.
More than once, my friends and I considered turning around and going back to our hotel on the Metro.
The lines never ended it seemed and I have no patience any given day but especially in the heat. Then we got to the front of the final line where we had already gone through several phases of passes and the attendant told us and another group we needed different passes and had to all the back to the beginning.
The manager in the white shirt paraded us all the way back to the beginning. I was flat-out of patience. I have seen memorials in my day. This could not be worth it, I thought.
The manager handed us the correct passes and allowed us to move again to the front of the endlessly long waiting line. After passing through the airport like security, we were on our way.
Every American alive and old enough to remember know what they were doing on 9/11/01 when the towers fell. There was a silence as we walked through the gated off area to reach the memorial.
Every corner we turned we were being watched even after all of the lines and security check. It made me think of those that still would rather destroy us than see our nation thrive, those that would rather kill innocent Americans on American soil.
We entered the 9/11 memorial and walked towards the memorial area.
I listened to the water. I searched stranger’s names, pausing thinking of their families, their past lives.
If you are an American, you need to visit the 9/11 Memorial if you have an opportunity. I remember seeing the Vietnam Memorial for the first time with my dad and my best friend, Sara. I was ten years old and Sara was twelve years old. We helped my dad find his cousin’s name on the wall. It was the first time I ever saw my father cry.
I didn’t understand at age ten why my dad was crying at the Vietnam Memorial. I didn’t understand why thousands of people were visiting a black wall with names etched into it. I knew they represented names of deceased Americans.But it was of my parent’s generation. It was not of mine.But it was of my parent’s generation. It was not of mine.
As I walked along the 9/11 Memorial, I saw Flight 175 etched. I paused. I have flown hundreds of flights. Hundreds and hundreds. I have always been safe.
I stood in silence to honor and remember those that boarded Flight 175 and never came home. Then next to me, on my left came a man who put water in his hands and put it on Amy R. King’s name. He was emotional. Two sets of arms wrapped around him. I didn’t move away and kept looking ahead at the water. They said a few things to each other about how it felt good to put the water on her name. The man and two other more elderly people walked away in emotion. Amy was important to them.
I turned to walk away, towards my friends when I glanced to the left. There was a Kathryn L. I have had the initials KLL most of my life. Kathryn L is still my name. There was a woman on Flight 175 with my shared and similar name. Did she go by Kathryn I wondered? Or was she Katie like me? Was she traveling on business? Did she have kids? Where was she from? How did her family find out the news? Have they been to the 9/11 Memorial? Have they put water on her name?
Great story. Still hard to take it all in even after all these years have passed. Thanks for sharing. I have not been there but hope to go someday.
Amazing post, Katie.
thank you, katie, for sharing your experience. it gave me chills.
Amazing, moving post. This would be so awesome to see. I know the lines sucked, but it makes me proud that so many people would wait in such lines to see that memorial. I’m not sure if I’ll ever make it to New York, but if I do I’ll have to see this now.
I think what affected me the most was the piece of the World Trade Center that became a memorial in the town we just left.
I enjoyed reading your post. I am a New Yorker, and that day changed me forever, as it did for NY’ers and American’s all over. My safety is not a “given” anymore. I was at the World Trade a week before with a friend shopping, and taking pics all the usual stuff. Many happy memories there. Had to walk home on 9/11 from work that day and watch my city burn as I walked over the bridge. I didn’t loose anyone, but friends were in the area, family down the block etc. I have never been down to the memorial. I know it is horrible, and I should, but I can’t bring myself yet.Thanks for sharing the pictures and the story. I am glad it is now available for people to go to and pay their respects etc. Memorials are so important. The Vietnam memorial brought tears to my eyes when I visited just seeing the amount of names, and remembering each name was someone special to someone.
The last time I was in NYC was in 1992, October. months before th first terrorist attack on the WTC. I attended a college radio conference. I lived, for a week, in the hotel connected to the twin towers. I live, for a week, eating Spbarro pizza at the food court at the base of tower 1. The fact that my home away from home for that week was affected by not one, but two terrorist attacks, has changed me. The fact, that I was on an American Airlines flight on 9/10/2001 has also deeply affected me. My Owen is a child of 9/11, and I will never forget.
Excellent reflection Kate. I saw the Vetnam Memorial for the first time as a 4-H Citiizenship delegate. Because it is my generation it truly touched me. Many of the parents saw ther hometown hereos names. I will never forget 911 as ita is the markermeds of time whenis my son generaton was quiietly sleeping in theira cribs-
Excellent reflection Kate. I saw the Vetnam Memorial for the first time as a 4-H Citiizenship delegate. Because it is my generation it truly touched me. Many of the parents saw ther hometown hereos names. I will never forget 911 as ita is the markermeds of time whenis my son generaton was quiietly sleeping in theira cribs-
such a chilling memory of that sad day in America,, Everyone that lost a life on that day was special or important to some one,,, so sadness will always be a reminder of 9/11. I don’t think I will ever get to see those places,, but I can always pray that such events never happen again, thank you for sharing your story, and photos..