We took the whole family, including our visiting nephew, out yesterday morning to join a
group of volunteers from Wal*Mart in helping to take down the Healing Field Flag
Memorial in Prescott Valley. I hadn't even seen it until a couple of days ago,
but I was quite impressed. It was a grass field out at the civic center filled
with 1,100 American flags.
It was absolutely beautiful. To each flag several
cards were attached, each one containing the name and story of a person who lost
their life in the terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001. Our first task was to go
through and remove and collect the cards from the flags. As we went along, my
husband clipped zip ties as I kept the cards in order. I began to realize that
these stacks of cards that I was holding represented real people, people who
died on that terrible day. As this realization came over me, I decided to look
down at the top card in my hand and I read a brief synopsis of the life of one
man and how that life came to an end. The story itself wasn't what got me, any
one of the thousands of stories on those cards would have had the same effect. I
lost it. Not sobbing in a heap on the ground lost it, but the tears just started quietly streaming.
Completely surrounded by flags, I looked around at the touching display and
remembered the horror of that day. I also recalled how our nation pulled together in the days and weeks that followed. Much of that sense of camaraderie and common purpose has been lost in the years since, but people still pull together on the anniversary of that day to produce some truly touching memorials. We didn't know the vast majority of the people we were working with yesterday, but we all worked together with a common purpose. We all were careful to treat the flags and the cards with respect. And we all gathered around for a group photo before the last flag came down. The job that organizers estimated would take 3 1/2 - 4 hours was completed in an hour and a half.
We gathered our family and headed for our van where we discussed the events of the morning with the kids on our way to breakfast. One thing that we all realized was how very different the experience was from what we expected. We all just thought we'd go out, do a job and be done with it. But we all were both moved and exhilarated by the mornings work. It was so much more than just a job that needed to be done. None of the kids remember the day of the attacks, the oldest was only five at the time. To them, it's just an event in our nation's history. But they got to feel a little of the spirit that came over the nation in the aftermath of the attacks. We weren't a divided people in those days. We weren't Republican and Democrat, Christian, Jew, Muslim, etc. We weren't people of different skin tones, different beliefs, different values. We were just Americans. We were a nation of people who had all been hurt by outsiders who hate us simply because of who we are as a nation. What a shame, that it took such a horrific act of hatred to make us see how strong we can be when we pull together. How glad I am that we can still recapture a little bit of that spirit each year as we commemorate that day. Next year, organizers of the Healing Field hope to put out 3,000 flags. You can bet this family will be on hand to be a part of it.
