Where were you on September 11? Ask anyone over the age of 25 about that horrible day in 2001 and their recollection will likely be vivid. Americans died in a terrorist attack on our home soil. Our nation’s safety was compromised and many of us wondered if our freedom was next on the firing line.
On September 11, 2011 – the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks – a ceremony will be held for the victims’ families and a Memorial will be dedicated. In addition, the U.S. Mint is producing 2 million commemorative silver medals inscribed with the words Always Remember.
Memorials like this are paradoxical at best; we’d just as soon put the mental anguish behind us and move forward but we dare not forget that our lives could change in an instant. They are a wake-up call to our apathy and bring focus to our fragile reality.
Author Lynne Truss explains: “[Memorials] swivel the historical telescope to a proper angle so that we see, however briefly, that we are not self-made; we owe an absolute debt to other people; a debt that our most solemn respect may acknowledge but can never repay.”
I have an odd memorial in my home. It is a framed photo of a pair of battered Army boots. I snapped the photo, myself, on the day I first saw the Vietnam Traveling Memorial Wall.
The Wall entered my parents’ tiny mountain town in northern California on a blistering hot, summer day. People lined the streets to get a glimpse of its arrival which was preceded by a caravan over 100 motorcycles ridden by Vietnam Veterans. The sight was magnificent. The Wall was set up in the football field of the high school and was open around the clock for the next four days.
On the day that we visited the Wall my father looped his Army dog tags around his neck. He had been stationed in Korea during the Vietnam Conflict. When his tour was up, some of the soldiers in his unit were sent to Vietnam. That day he scanned the Wall for the names of men that he knew. I wish I could say that his was the only story like that but it wasn’t. All around us, Veterans moved slowly along the list of names, then paused and hung their heads. Their grief was nearly palpable.
That evening my mother took my father’s Army boots out of storage. She set a potted plant in each boot and displayed them in a favorite spot by a giant picture window in their sitting room. My father’s name and identifying information – printed on the inside of each boot – was visible behind the plants. When I asked about it, my mother explained that it was a type of remembrance and that my father felt honored at this small gesture.
A framed picture of those boots now hangs next to my front door. Every so often, when a friend asks me about the picture, I have a clear memory of that summer day surrounded by Veterans who fought for me and the names of so many Veterans who died for my freedom.
Samuel Adams, one of the Founding Fathers of our nation, said, “We have received [the liberties of our country] as a fair inheritance from our worthy ancestors: they purchased them for us with toil and danger and expense of treasure and blood, and transmitted them to us with care and diligence.”
Next week we will celebrate Independence Day. It will be commemorated with parades and flags and fireworks. But I hope, if just for a moment, we can stop long enough thank a Veteran, to “swivel the historical telescope,” and to remember how our Independence was won.
