Hallowed grounds

     September got away from me it seemed,

    A lot of personal things happened in the last month which made me question a few things, including if it was worth continuing this blog; considering how my readership is so small.   In the end however I decided it was.  Rome, as the saying goes, was not built in a day.

    I can already feel the winds of the coming winter starting, our garage is all ready full of three tons of wood pellets for our stove and yesterday was the first day we lit it.   It was not a bad or particularly cold day but we had a chill in the house that caused my hands to be ice cold, and lighting the stove helped chase that chill from them.  

   

    Soon it will be time to work on winterizing the home.  First however, we had one last trip that Sue and I had wanted to make; or more of a pilgrimage of sorts.  We were going to visit the National Park that memorializes the brave souls of Flight 93 which lost their lives one fateful September day in 2001.

    This would actually be my second visit there, as I came across the site by accident one day in 2004, when all that commemorated the site was the crosses and flowers of a make shift memorial.   I'm not even sure why I was in that part of that state at the time.    

    What surprised me was how hard emotional the site hit me, as I had to choke back tears several times during our visit.  

    I didn't know anyone on that flight.  No one I knew, even remotely, was in New York or Washington that day.  Men and women of a certain age remember where they where, what they were doing and that damned silence that seem to wrap itself around us.  There are better writers, better story tellers than I that can tell those stories.  

   

    Most of the park is still undeveloped, the way it should be, open fields full of native Pennsylvania wildflowers, even being allowed to grow around the Tower of Voices.  Foot paths wind around the park, some following the flight path and eventual crash site, marked by a still visible divot of earth and a lone boulder which marks the final resting place of that flight.  

    The small visitor center contains a museum, holding some of the debris of that flight and a review of what happened on that "otherwise normal late summer day" twenty years ago.   There are even some recordings of the calls that passengers made to love ones as the fateful choice was made to try and retake the plane.  I could not bring myself to listen to them.  It is tasteful and dignified. 

    I have no doubt that this place is lovely and peaceful in the autumn and of rebirth in spring.  Even today, on a peaceful October day and I can't help but think that one day in the future this field will simply be covered with wildflowers and rabbits and deer will bound through it.   Life continues on long after this place and that flight will be forgotton.  

Debris from the flight

    Sadly we were not able to view the Flight 93 Memorial Chapel that is nearby.  This is not part of the official park, but I was hoping to see it.  It's volunteer run and supported by the community and donations.  It's heartfelt although and that really should count for something.

    History is full of big events, but it's the indivdual that creates it in a variety of ways.

    There were a few such site in the are, and more than one covered bridge was nearby as well.  Johnston, home of several famous floods is less than an hour away by car and full of history as well.  A brisk 90 minute car ride to the southwest is Laurel Caverns, another place that I had never been.  I can't help but think that I would like to spend a weekend here, just exploring.

    Pennsylvania has so much history and magic to it, that getting out and about on day trips is never a bad thing.   We decide to go at the last minute and therefore time got away from us so we didn't get to spend as much time as we would have liked exploring the area.

    Overall though I am glad that Sue and I ventured that way.   I think we may return one day.