Shanksville – Time Out to Remember

 

Shanksville – Time Out to Remember

Fall is a stunningly beautiful season in the Pennsylvania countryside. The hilly landscape rolls by, lush green turning to deep reds, oranges and yellows.  The road passes a series of small picture-postcard white farmhouses and a farm stand overflowing with pumpkins.

Visitors seeking the Flight 93 National Memorial must keep their eyes sharp. Signs, small, brown and rectangular, sit low alongside the road, not easily seen unless specifically looking for them.

Eighteen miles off the Pennsylvania Turnpike Somerset exit, outside the small town of Shanksville, the site sits high on a mountain overlooking the countryside.

Turning off Highway 30 and passing the entrance, the road meanders 3.5 miles through a new federal park emerging around the location of the 9/11 disaster. Newly planted trees dot the landscape, proud members of forty forest groves rising amidst the remains of decades of strip mining and one disastrous plane crash, one for each Flight 93 victim, signs of life and renewal growing out of deserted, barren mine cavities and unmarked remains.

Terrorists planned the 2001 attacks carefully, attentive to every detail – or so they thought – but could not control all factors. Flight 93 left Newark airport 25 minutes late.  The four terrorists aboard commandeered the plane, forcing everyone to the back of the aircraft. Passengers desperately called family and authorities on cell phones. Hearing about the strikes on the Pentagon and World Trade Centers, they realized their plane was destined for another target.

The passengers decided to fight back. The results, tragic for the victims, prevented a fourth plane from crashing into an American landmark in Washington, D.C., believed to be the Capitol where the Senate and House were in session.

I cannot imagine the fear, rage, and disbelief every individual on that plane felt. Yet they managed to come together – men and women, black and white, Republicans and Democrats (no doubt both parties were represented), maybe an Independent and Libertarian or two, young and old, probably the affluent and less so. They are a testament to what our country is all about.

People slowly walk around, reading sign boards and strolling down the path to the Memorial, a marble wall inscribed with the names of the 40 victims. Men shoot pictures with large mutli-lens cameras and people linger, staring at the peaceful fields surrounding the Plaza. The events of that horrific day years ago seem surreal, but the names of the real victims stare at us, shining in the golden sunlight.

The Memorial is probably the closest our country has to a national holy place.

My husband and I detoured to the Memorial on the way home from visiting friends. We are lucky to lead active lives, working, traveling, enjoying family and friends. The people on that plane that September day were busy too, but their lives were cut short, innocent victims of fanatics stirring up not only their world, but ours too.

It is difficult to place our Western-educated heads into those whose lives, history and culture are so different from ours, who believe it their mission to annihilate those who practice a different religion, and arbitrarily murder civilians.

We are confronted by people who do not believe in our values  – life, liberty, pursuit of happiness – who do not value anyone’s life, who find liberty an idea threatening their existence, and think the pursuit of happiness a Western fantasy. These people may win battles, but will never win the war for our hearts and our minds.

A visit to Shanksville gives pause, anchoring us for a moment in the realities of our harsh world. It is a time out from frenzied lives, a brief moment to be grateful for our life, as crazy as it might be, and thank those who helped build and preserve our country, our culture and our society, as flawed as they all may be. Stepping away from everyday problems and controversies, we view the big picture.

I renew a desire to make every day count, to appreciate and not take for granted my wonderful life. My husband and I could have been on one of those planes. Forget about putting things off. Shanksville reminds us life is precious and precarious. Live and enjoy life, be strong, and try not to squander the opportunities life presents. This is the wake-up call we leave with.

 

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