Is It Time?
How long does it take for an event to move from the present into history?
I’ve listened to a lot of talks by a lot of historians. It never fails, someone will inevitably ask “how will history look back on the the events of today?” And historians almost always give the same reply: “well, we won’t know until enough time has past. Future historians will have to judge.” Yadda yadda yadda.
I’m wondering: has enough time passed to honestly and objectively look back on 9/11? There hasn’t been another terrorist attack on U.S. soil, but al Qaeda still makes is presence felt elsewhere. The administration of President George W. “9/11” Bush is over, but the resulting wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are still going on. And bin Laden is still out there, somewhere. We don’t know if he’s dying of cancer or plotting the next attack. So I’m not quite sure enough time has past to put 9/11 in its proper context, it seems like we are still living it today. If we are still living it, has it past into history? Hmmm….
Because I’m not sure it has past into history, I’m also not quite sure we can properly memorialize it. Time has to pass before one can honestly reflect on an event. There’s too much emotion otherwise, and you end up acting completely on impulse and make bad judgements that you then have to live with. So has enough time passed to build memorials, things that will stand for generations and generations? Will such a memorial teach the right lesson to those who weren’t here in 2001?
The Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial was built in 1982, seven years after the fall of Saigon. Here we are, eight years after 9/11, so maybe it is time after all. The only difference, of course, is the Vietnam War actually ended. The conflict itself was closed, the troops were brought home. The scars and carnage remained, but at least the nation had those seven years to reflect, and think, and figure out how those lost lives should be remembered. We now have one of the most moving memorials ever created on the west end of the National Mall. I want the same thing for 9/11, a symbol that evokes the right emotion and conveys the right message to those who might visit it 20, 50, or 100 years later. I don’t want some rushed hunk of granite garbage that evokes a response of “WTF?”
Regardless of the answer to this heavy question, I do like the design for the memorial to Flight 93. I’ve reviewed it, and I’ve visited the site, and I have to give my own, “mouse that roared” thumbs-up to the proposed memorial in Shanksville, PA. I think it’s subdued enough, thoughtful enough, and emotive enough to qualify as a true, honorable monument to those 40 folks who gave their lives in a senseless, pointless act of violence. I especially like the groves of trees and the low, graceful lines of the design. It fits in with the landscape and the dignity we’d all like to see.
I don’t ask this often, but I hope you’ll take the time to visit the Flight 93 Memorial Project and make a contribution to the creation of this monument. After wrestling with the issue during the crafting of this post, I think its time has come.
[Pics are mine and appropriately copyrighted. More are here.]
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I love the place, absolutely love it, loved it from the beginning. I was there during the opening, 8-hour concert on Labor Day weekend in 1995, where I saw everyone from Chuck Berry to Johnny Cash to Dr. John to Aretha Franklin to Iggy Pop. That was a fantastic experience. The next day I saw James Brown sauntering through the crowd, surrounded by some of the biggest, scariest bodyguards imaginable, on his way into the Rock Hall. I’ve been back several times since, and love it more and more every time I go. For me, it goes beyond being a fan of rock music. My love of rock & roll dovetails nicely into my love of American history.
Rock & roll is uniquely American because of it’s “origin story”. Rock’s primary grandfather was The Blues. Political correctness aside, The Blues was the black man’s music. It’s basically a lament about hard times and suffering set to a quick-paced but rough tempo. The Blues was fostered in a segregated South and derives directly from music sung by plantation slaves. This is Part I of why Rock is uniquely American, it’s the only positive thing to ever come out of our slaveholding past. Without the caustic cauldron of atrocity known as antebellum slavery, and the emotional agony of Jim Crow, the genetic material of The Blues would not have been created. No Blues, no Rock.
Then there’s Jazz. Jazz, in my view, represents the independent American mentality applied to music. People wanted to play what they wanted to play, and wanted to hear what they wanted to hear. It’s improv, blending, mixing things up, and doing what you want. It’s throwing away musical convention, just like we threw away monarchial convention. We tossed out the King and made our own government, then we tossed out musical conformity and made our own Jazz. It’s the Declaration of Indepence set to music.
Rock has then been changed and modified and altered by so much more since then: the injustice of the Vietnam War draft, the poverty of inner cities, the rebellion of angsty white suburbanite teens, plus America’s penchant to abuse mind-altering substances …. All of these things are, again, uniquely attributable to the U.S. and the unique mix (or train wreck, if you prefer) of our culture.
I titled this post “America’s Queen Mum” for a reason. Eleanor Roosevelt, like Britain’s Queen Elizabeth (the current Queen Elizabeth’s mother, who passed away in 2002) was a beloved figure during terribly troubled times. Throughout the Depression and then the War, both women were strong role models for their beleaguered citizenry. These ladies did what leaders are supposed to do: walk amongst the people. With regular public addresses, newspaper articles, and visits to various cities and towns, they were inspirations to the people when they needed it most. Cowards sit in their undisclosed locations or corner offices or posh resorts when the shit hits the fan. Leaders stand in front and take the full spray. OK, I think that’s the most repulsive sentence I think I ever typed, but it makes the point….




