Hometown

I walked from my office down to the old courthouse which is now the Lexington History Museum. I received an email earlier this week letting me know that the 9-11 National Memorial was touring and would be stopping in Lexington. It included info about how there was to be a beam, that would be built into the memorial structure, for pholks could sign.

It was a beautiful day. I went after lunch to avoid what I thought would be an enormous lunch crowd. I like walking downtown. There’s always people about in seemingly good moods.

The i-beam seemed to be about 4 foot wide and maybe 35 feet long. It was painted white and placed under a tent upon a podium for people to climb upon and make their signature. I was going to sign for myself, hubby, darling son, and for two coworkers, but I couldn’t.

Because the beam is going to 20 cities over all one person can only sign for them self. They used a magnetic template in different places on the beam with cutouts just the right size for making your signature.

I signed the beam and then offered to trade the attendant my regular sharpie for the one printed with memorial info she had handed me to sign with. Everyone one who signed was given the sharpie. I put it in my pants pocket and kept feeling to confirm  that it was there for my entire visit and the walk back to my office.

Then I was directed to an exhibit. I only had to wait in line maybe ten minutes before I was able to enter the tent containing large images from that day* and quotes from people who were there. The pictures were moving and many I had never seen before, but it was the last picture and it’s quote than nearly brought me to tears.

I can’t recall it exactly. I’d taken nothing to write on and no photographing was allowed (yeah, like I’d even managed to think of bringing a camera) but it went something like…

“I was turning onto the 14th floor stairwell, only 14 stories from safety after coming down over 60 flights, and there in the stairwell was a fireman going up in all his gear, and all I could think about was how brave he is—how proud his family must be of him. And then I prayed for his safety and his family down my last flights to safety.”

Which pretty much summed up how I felt the all the day of. So, yeah, it kinda brought it all back.

Afterwards I moved on to the mobile unit to view a seven and a half minute film with survivors speaking from their experiences of that day. The mobile unit itself was really impressive. The film complete, we were directed to the right of the mobile unit to view some artifacts under glass. There was a mural from inside one of the towers that had survived the collapse. Upon it, sprayed in fluorescent orange paint, was a date the panels were found and a mark that meant no survivors found in this location.

*sigh*

The last tent was filled with laptops so that one could email the film we’d just seen and hopefully make a donation. I ponied up for a ten spot. Standing at a lectern in the tent I asked if I might use a pen to complete a form card they had given me after I signed the i-beam.

While filling in the blanks another attendant told me and some others milling about that a local artist with some connection to the 9-11 ordeal had dropped off these little wooden reliefs to give to anyone who made at least a $10.00. I chose the smallest of the six that he’d given.

An entire group of motorcyclists had arrived while I was in the mobile unit and their bikes were paired in a line parked all the way down the sidewalk beside the old court house. Those dozens of bikes against the back drop of the traveling 9-11 memorial would have made for a great photograph.

*About this short’s creator and here.

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