Hallowed Ground

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Just a field. And so hallowed. Today I visited the Flight 93 National Memorial in Somerset, Pennsylvania. And oh, did I cry. More than I did when I visited the Vietnam Wall. And, like the Vietnam Memorial, I didn’t know any of the 40 people honored at this site, where United Airlines flight 93 crashed on September 11, 2001 after the passengers learned about the other hijacked planes that had been used as weapons, and fought back. The Memorial is tasteful and relatively simplistic. A black walkway marks the flight path of the plane as the passengers and terrorists fought to keep the plane from its intended destination (believed to be the US Capitol building; or, maybe, the White House) as it erratically flew before crashing (marked by a granite stone), killing the 40 brave passengers aboard. Inside the welcome center is the timeline of that dreadful day that none of us living at the time will ever forget. There is, thankfully, no political bull manure. This is not the place for it. Instead, you get to see the 40 people who gave their lives to save who knows how many others. You can hear their voices via preserved phone calls they made when it became apparent what their fate would be. You can see the outline of the debris field (marked by a wall), and see a relief model (along with a photograph) that shows just how violent the impact was. It is a somber, hallowed, and fitting tribute to ordinary individuals who did something unimaginably heroic. God bless their memories, and their families and friends.