The following post was written after returning home from attending the Flight 93 National Memorial the day that it was dedicated and first opened to the public on September 11th, 2011.
Former Presidents George Bush and Bill Clinton were gone by the time my
wife and I arrived at the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville,
Pennsylvania. The ceremonies were concluding and the families of
the heroes from Flight 93 walked from the memorial wall
down to the path where Flight 93 made impact. As they were departing the memorial they
walked through the midst of the crowd of roughly 4,000 people to gentle,
sustained, respectful and heartfelt applause. Part of the crowd then spontaneously and softly started singing America The Beautiful.
Flight 93 National Memorial Park is
roughly 15-20 minutes off of the Somerset exit of the Pennsylvania
Turnpike. I didn't need to hear the words from the speakers on the dais,
moving as I'm sure they were, for I just wanted to be in the spot, or as
close to it, to where this remarkable group of people struck back at
terrorism before the terrorist's day of infamy was even over, something very
similar to those pilots who got off of the ground at Pearl Harbor before
Tojo's planes could leave the islands. What happened on that flight,
and the aftermath of it, could never have been envisioned by the
terrorist minds involved.
As the crowds were waiting in long lines for buses to take
them back to the parking areas, I had the bright idea of walking up and
over the field then meeting back up to the road, and then back to Route 30 where
our car was parked along the berm with many others. A couple miles into
the forced march back I had regretted subjecting my wife to this trek
and we still had a couple of miles to go! The line-up of departing
automobiles moved at a snail's pace and at times we walked faster than they
inched along, As one vehicle with two men inside came up beside us the driver
asked if we wanted a ride. I'm the type that if I was stranded on a
deserted island and a cruise ship spotted me and tried to rescue me I
would say, "Only if I can work for my fare," but I looked over at my
wife and then said "thank-you very much."
The driver offered us a fruit
drink which was a great relief to
us and we asked these two men a few questions on where they were from
and why they had come. Well, they were two of the four children of Flight 93
passenger Joseph Driscoll who perished on that site and whose widow and many other family members were
in other vehicles. I realized that they were probably emotionally spent
and tired themselves but I did ask some questions about that fateful
day and they very politely answered. One of these two sons of Joseph Driscoll had been working in
the World Trade Center only the day before the attacks and he vividly
described the scene on the New York City streets as his father was still aboard Flight 93. How typical of all that I had
heard of these families of the Flight 93 heroes, that they reached out
to help others after they themselves were hurt, and here they were doing
it again on this special day.