Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Every 9/11 in Minneapolis there’s a memorial at the Lake Harriet Bandshell. There have been bandshells standing on the northwest shore since 1888; fire or storms knock them down now and then, but we always rebuild. This was the scene tonight:
Dogs and kids gamboling in the twilight. A volunteer orchestra and choir, men dressed in colonial garb with old flags. Rangy earnest Boy Scouts handing out flags to the veterans who stood when the band played the anthem for their branch of the service. Some Copland, of course. The last movement of Howard Hanson’s marvelous Second Symphony. (The first movement is better, and if you’ve seen the movie “Alien,” you’ve heard the ending. It plays over the credits.) The mayor - a former newspaperman, among other things - made a good speech about hope and America.
When the sun set, we got out our candles, and fire was passed from one citizen to another. Hundreds of flickering lights in the dark. The orchestra played John Williams’ “Hymn for the Fallen,” and two newsreaders from the local TV station read dispatches from the day nine years ago. Banners bearing the names of the dead unfurled on the walls of the bandshell, bathed in blue and red light. My daughter held her candle and whispered that this was a scary story, and I put my arm around her and said she was right. It was.
The program continued with some upbeat patriotic music, and ended with “God Bless America,” sung by everyone at the top of their lungs - then fireworks shot from behind the bandshell and bloomed and boomed and crackled and fizzed overhead. The crowd left happy, and I was humming Irving Berlin all the way back to the car. It was only when I got home that I realized I didn’t want to leave a 9/11 memorial singing. Healing and hope and resolve and all that is well and good, but during the recounting of the events of the day I was angry again. I don’t think I’ve ever been more than a second away from the anger I felt on that day.
There’s nothing virtuous about anger, and you sound mulish and stubborn if you say you don’t particularly want to heal. I just don’t want to. That’s all.
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Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Sounds like a gathering of bigots to me, Lileks.
Enlightened citizens hear Muslim prayers before their City Council meetings; wear the hijab on 9/11 to demonstrate solidarity with oppressed American Muslims and hear readings of the Koran from the pulpit of Episcopalian churches.
And frankly, I find the display of American flags to be offensive.
I like the use of the word "gamboling", though.
May '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
That simple statement brought up a lot of memories and emotions for me. I remember that day feeling that the world was a very scary place, too.
Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
This may sound weird, but...
I didn't know anyone who died on 9/11.
But for some years, I lived very, very high in a building with a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows. And smack in front of me, every night, were the Twin Towers, gleaming in their monolithic majesty.
After 9/11, I mourned for those structures.
And, every time I returned to New York from Philadelphia or Newark Airport, I could not help but grieve anew as Manhattan came into view, bereft of their audacious, massive presence.
Jun '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
The heroes of that day deserve to be remembered with music on 9/11. The villains don't. The villains should be remembered on all other days, and only in the way that the fast rabbit remembers what a quick fox did to the slow rabbit--a scary story.
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Kenneth: as architecture, I wasn't fond of the WTC - it was everything that was boring about late 60s skyscraper design stretched up to absurd heights. But critic Paul Goldberger put it nicely: one tower would have been banal. Two towers were abstract sculpture. They really did need each other to make sense.
Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
James, when the WTC was being built, New Yorkers were outraged by its stark banality.
But something strange and wondrous happened over the years: we came to love it.
Not for it's architecture, but for it's scale, for its ability to dominate.
And also because so many of us enjoyed the experience of the thing - being rocketed skyward in its elevators, disporting ourselves in the restaurant and jazz lounge of Windows on the World, peering down on the Hudson River display of 4th-of-July fireworks from the towers' upper-most floors.
Whenever one hosted out-of-towners, it wasn't the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building where we first took them - it was the WTC.
Because the WTC said, "I live here, in a place beyond the scale of imagining."
Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
I was a junior in high school at the time in Westbury, NY, 45 minutes from Manhattan on the LIRR. My mother was at my school working the polls for the special primary election held that day. We went home together in the afternoon after spending the entire day glued to the TV. Our answering machine had multiple messages from relatives abroad making sure we were OK, but the first message was from one of my best friend's mothers, telling us that she had just seen what happened, and if anyone said or did anything to us, she wanted us to call her first, as she would always stand with us. A few days later, at President Bush's request, the police assigned a guard to our mosque in Queens, a service also extended to mosques around the country.
The Left to this day claims that the US is hostile to Muslims and Islam, even more so since 9/11. But they don't remember that frightening day and the days after like I do. That was the day when I, a fairly superficial teenager, truly began to love this country, its institutions and its people.
Edited on Sep 12, 2010 at 12:10amRe: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
James Lileks: I don’t think I’ve ever been more than a second away from the anger I felt on that day.
There’s nothing virtuous about anger, and you sound mulish and stubborn if you say you don’t particularly want to heal. I just don’t want to. That’s all. ·
I completely understand, James. My husband and I watched a documentary event last night and the anger is so very close to the surface. Still. It does not go away one little bit. However, what I do sometimes forget, and need to remember, is that Americans on that day were so in sync. Walking the streets of Manhattan that day, everyone around you was your friend, your ally, equally horrified by the events. People were loudly patriotic and shocked and horrified and angered to an equal degree about the evil around us. Today, Americans are all disjointed again. Some people are angry about some things, other people are angry about other things. I do miss that solidarity of feeling and purpose, even though it came about, briefly, because of awfulness.
May '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Humza Ahmad:
The Left to this day claims that the US is hostile to Muslims and Islam, even more so since 9/11. But they don't remember that frightening day and the days after like I do. That was the day when I, a fairly superficial teenager, truly began to love this country, its institutions and its people.
To me, this is a succinct summary of the differences between the Left and most on the center-right. The current Left is the superficial teenager that hasn't learned, or doesn't want to love this country, its institutions and its people. To the Left, those things are what is wrong with this world. Like the superficial teenager, life is all about how popular you are. Very little of what you do as a teenager is thought out, but is mostly an emotional reaction to perceived injustices. Real injustices get lost in the fray because everything is an injustice to a teenager. Our current administration fits this mold.
The Left has, to create a hostility toward our institutions and people because, without it, they really aren't relevant. For the vain, that truly is the worst fate.
Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Ursula Hennessey
People were loudly patriotic and shocked and horrified and angered to an equal degree about the evil around us. Today, Americans are all disjointed again. Some people are angry about some things, other people are angry about other things. I do miss that solidarity of feeling and purpose, even though it came about, briefly, because of awfulness. · Sep 12 at 4:21am
I remember it well, Ursula.
I was actually naive enough at the time to imagine that 9/11 had brought all of us to our senses and that the constant political bickering was now behind us forever - that henceforth, we would stand as one.
And then, with shameful quickness, the Democrats in Congress, unable to bear the thought of an America united behind George Bush, set about tearing us apart again.
Lord, I despised them for that. They took possibly the one moment since the end of World War Two when we were all patriots and turned it into an opportunity for division.
May '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Thanks for the snapshot, James.
Mr. Ahmad, I've never heard an American Muslim describe what 9/11 and the days after were like. I only ever heard the Left's warnings about assaults that never happened. I don't recall any such problems in Houston, where folks from the Middle East and Southeast Asia abound. Thanks for the perspective.
I'm an emotionally muted person, so I can't really connect to these events like most people. But I do remember how wonderful the patriotism and charity was in the days and weeks after 9/11. Flags were flying literally everywhere. A local oil company draped a truly giant flag down the side of its building, alongside a major highway, like a monument. And everyone was trying to figure how they could help people hundreds of miles away. Texans don't even like New Yorkers, normally. ;)
I miss that.
May '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
Kenneth
James, when the WTC was being built, New Yorkers were outraged by its stark banality.
But something strange and wondrous happened over the years: we came to love it.
Not for it's architecture, but for it's scale, for its ability to dominate.
And also because so many of us enjoyed the experience of the thing - being rocketed skyward in its elevators, disporting ourselves in the restaurant and jazz lounge of Windows on the World, peering down on the Hudson River display of 4th-of-July fireworks from the towers' upper-most floors.
Whenever one hosted out-of-towners, it wasn't the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building where we first took them - it was the WTC.
Because the WTC said, "I live here, in a place beyond the scale of imagining." · Sep 11 at 10:50pm
To people not from the area, the sense of scale is what mainly impresses about New York City in general. I've never been higher than thirteen stories, and I live just outside the fourth largest city in America.
Jul '10
Re: Notes from a 9/11 Memorial
James, I recall a sentiment that you committed to The Bleat back in 2001 where after looking at then 1 year old <G>Nat you determined that you could indeed visit some physicality on terrorists if your child were threatened. A sentiment we share. My daughter, our first child after 15 years of marriage, was 2 months old on that horrible day. Everything about that day, in my mind, is framed by how it impacts her lifetime. Every significant milestone in her life will be shared by that awful event. When she turns 10, 9/11/2001 will have occurred 10 years ago. And 15, 20, 25, et al.
This year, my 5 year old daughter (6 on 9/15! - we sweated the nearness of that due date) asked me "What happened with the towers?" It is a heartaching and heartbeaking story to tell. And, indeed, scary. And it will never be anything less.