9/11 and Vietnam Remembered

As much as I enjoy art, it took a visit to the 9/11 and Vietnam War Memorials to solidify my understanding of how memorials are an art form. I still love observing oil on canvas, a tapestry here and there, and ideal beauty carved in stone, but I had rarely been moved as greatly as I was on our visit to these memorials. I was alive for 9/11, but not yet an idea during the Vietnam war, and although I witnessed the second plane hit the tower from a television set in San Diego, I had more of an emotional response when we visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Yes, a name may be how we identify people at the most basic level, but reading the letters written to and from soldiers allowed me to better connect with conflict in which they were engaged.

The sheer magnitude of the waterfalls was humbling; the center of each – where the water fell out of sight –  was symbolic, and in fact, each stage the water went through on its way through the cycle represented each stage of that terrible day. I had no desire to speak. It was as though some greater force kept my mouth shut. I had no urge to fight back. But reading the letters of the American soldiers in Vietnam awakened an entire world of thought in me. The phrases “Dear mom” of “Dear son” or “Dear [the soldier’s name]” forced my to reflect deeply on how much I value the people who love and care for me unconditionally, so much so that began to tear up. (You might say I’m a momma’s boy, and you’d be right). Lastly, the circumstances surrounding the two conflicts being remembered differ; every person was in some way innocent in each conflict, but the knowledge of death in the minds of the Americans fighting in Vietnam was clear, and the days events were entirely unknown to the victims of the terrorist attacks. Somehow, the unfamiliarity of the unknown realm that is death and love for my family and beloved friends was more strongly affected.

I am fortunate not to have lost any friends or family in the 9/11 attacks, and all my heart goes out to those who did. The events of 9/11/01 are still fresh in the minds of the many, but the quiet and firm essence of the Vietnam War memorial showed me that the terror of the past may fade, but will never disappear; it’s silhouette will forever stand behind us as we look forward.

The water’s roar hushes the buslte of the city

rendering it a whisper.

The engraved letters mummify the soldier’s voices

lending silence to the city’s seasons.

Each blankets the city

as though the present is in infancy, whimpering,

and the past echoes

n’er to be forgotten.