A Mom, Her Boys, and 9/11

My better half went swimming at the JCC in Bridgewater this morning, while I, still nursing a summer cough, decided to stay out of the water – perhaps tomorrow I can do a few laps. Instead, the Taurus took me to Harry Dunham Park, a municipal oasis in Liberty Corner, close to our home. Paved walking paths encircle the park, with nothing but green grass in between, the big sky above, trees and grassy berms lining the perimeter.

You can’t complete circling that park without passing by the 9/11 memorial to the World Trade Towers victims who fell to craven terrorism on that unforgettable day. From a distance, a tall U.S. flag first draws your attention. When you come right up to it, though, the impression is unmistakable: Steel beams from the World Trade Towers spread out at the bottom of the flag post, hallowing the entire area with reverence for the memory of innocent lives lost through the actions of a small group of bin-Laden-inspired barbarians.

If you believe in shrines, then believe in this one, because that is its most appropriate description.

This morning I stopped for a breather and sat on a bench just behind the steel girders of the memorial. A young mom with three boys, the oldest of which appeared to be about 10 years old, walked by. Something drew her attention to that hard brown steel and, as she walked on, she turned past the line of shrubs, and inside to the round area whose slate floor is inscribed with names of area victims from that fateful day. Her boys followed her.

I overheard the ensuing conversation, which went something like this: “See those beams,” she told the boys, “they come from the buildings that were destroyed by the attack on this country on 9/11.” “Is that right?” one of the kids replied, as all four continued to walk right up to the girders, seeing, touching, and believing.

“Imagine,” the mom continued, “the heat and intensity of the explosion that it took to make those two skyscrapers come crashing down,” she went on. “Wow!” the oldest boy exclaimed, as the two younger ones listened. The conversion was much more extensive, but you get the idea.

Today, that one mom gave her three boys the best history lesson that they will ever get about what happened on 9/11 – more compelling, I wager, than any that they are likely to get in some watered-down text book later on in school.