Macaulay Seminar One at Brooklyn College

I remember september 11th, 2001 in short bursts of memories. I remember sitting in my kitchen, the door open, and it was early in the day. We had been let out of school early, but I don’t remember leaving the school. I remember the warmth of the early september 11th weather pouring into the kitchen, a nostalgic taste of the summer prior. I had been eating a cream cheese and jelly sandwich, sitting far away from the table and staring at the t.v. I saw both towers in pieces. My mother was in another room, probably talking to her friends still living in the city. I realized the severity of the situation, but as a child I could not fully absorb the emotional toll of this disaster.

My father had been a fire fighter for 20 years, serving in Harlem, the Bronx and Yonkers, and had finally retired only a few months before 9/11. When he heard news of the crisis, he immediately began to make his way down to Manhattan. He ran into plenty of traffic, and arrived on the scene long after both towers had fallen. He saw the wreckage first hand; I don’t think my Dad will ever reconcile what happened on that horrible day. My Dad knew many of the fireman who died fighting to save the lives of the victims, and had even worked in the same Ladder as some of them. Tragedy was all around us. Another family in my hometown Pleasantville lost a father in the incident, Captain Charles William Garbarini. Today, there’s a basketball court at the Pleasantville Middle School named in his honor. I used to skate there when I was younger, and anytime I fell on my ass, I thought about Mr. Garbarini, and how he gave his all on that dreaded date. It used to push me, and it used to make me mad. Mad that something so horrible as this could have ever happened.

It wasn’t until all these first hand accounts that I began to feel the depth of the tragedy. Every St. Patrick’s day, My father dresses in a dark black fireman’s suit, and wears the purple insgnia of the 311 firemen that lost their lives. I march as well, and deep down I march for those who were lost too along with my Irish county.

Surprisingly, I had never visited the 9/11 memorial before last Thursday. My Mom has been dying to come down and see it, but it’s different for my Dad. I think he’s scared of reliving his own memories on 9/11. So, as I entered the memorial I thought of my dad, and my mom, and all the people they knew who died on 9/11, and the others I didn’t know.

I thought it was beautiful the first minute upon entering. The trees all lined up, and perfectly spaced from each other. They gave a sense of life in the memorial, that something could grow out of this desolate location. And of course, the waterfalls. I thought they really nailed the design and concepts behind the piece. The water was beautiful as it made its decent into the unknown abyss. The area was silent, people held their tongues and held their heads low, with the sound of rushing water rolling in the background. The sound was soothing, and sent me into a mood of tranquility and humility. I think everyone wanted to hear the water running. It calmed the nerves and eased our thoughts, as if the voices of those who past were embedded in each drop of water.

I was thrilled to find Mr. Garbarini’s name written down surrounding the Southern Tower. I felt a happiness flood over me, and I began to smirk a little. Something about seeing his name there made everything I’d ever felt for this day O.K.. I felt at peace about the whole thing, and had a very reflective day from then on. It felt good to finally visit the memorial. I hope one day my Dad could come down here, and feel that same O.K I experienced.

The 9/11 Memorial is definitely worth visiting and once the museum is open (planned for spring 2014) will probably be even more meaningful than it already is.
The last time I saw the area was in 2011 when I attended with school. While recovery was still taking place, I was very impressed by the transformation from that time and the respectful memorial and park area being developed. Just like the first time, it was just as breathtaking for me.

I’ve been to many memorials, but this is by far the most breathtaking beautiful one I’ve been to. By beautiful, I don’t just mean the way it looks, but what it represents. The memorial being the size of how the building was really puts it into perspective.

Regardless of the amount of names shown, it still felt just as personal to me. I kept noticing white flowers, and I found out it was placed because it was that persons birthday. It was very moving.

As Jonah said in class, the constant flow of water and its noise, may have represented the constant outcries and voices of the people who were lost. The first time I have been there, I haven’t noticed the tree that was standing opposite the memorial as we walked in. It was tied down and wrapped all around– keeping it in place.. and an observer told me that the reason this tree is being sacred is because it was the only tree that wasn’t diminished and destroyed during the time of 9/11.

Walking in, I felt a sense of happiness or…relief, at the way it was upheld. You were able to tell through the amount of security, how clean they kept it, and from the amount of people/tourists were there, that it was still something people held close to their hearts. It might be because I remember exactly where I was during 9/11, and during our lifetime, but I felt a connection. Looking at the new buildings being made, gave me a sense of pride but also mixed feelings. I was pleased to see that people wouldn’t let these terrorists stop us from building, but also nervous in the way that I wondered: Is this a replacement of what was? Do you think people will choose to go back, or will it be a possible danger, regardless of security? What is the significance of this new building?

I have never been to the Vietnam memorial. Upon arriving, I felt bad. While one may call it beauty, I find the beauty in the people who visit, and this memorial looked like the type to be ‘that the only people who come are the ones who have a personal connection to one of the soldiers’. It was in between two buildings, was dark, the water fountain didn’t work, located by a restaurant, but at the same time one may say that it being isolated and not so populated gave it a sense of peacefulness, being alone, not busy, closure or what not. The flowers I felt gave the ‘light’ and life there. What got to me was the ages of these soldiers. I’m 19, and it is startling trying to reflect what these men had to do. The letters written on the wall also made it very personal. Much of it was too difficult to read, but the pieces able to be made out really touched me.

I’ve never been to the Vietnam Memorial- yet alone, know that there was such a thing in NYC. When I told my friends that I went to the Vietnam Memorial- most responded with, “What? In the city? Where?… Oh that’s a memorial, I used to eat my lunch there.” It’s really sad to think that way. If someone in my family was involved anyway in the Vietnam War, I’d surely be pissed that no one knew there was even a memorial for them.

I’m not going to lie, when Renee and I showed up to the Vietnam Memorial, I was beyond disappointed. I didn’t even know that there was a memorial there!  The only thing that really gave it away were the couple of street signs that pointed to that little area between to buildings that read “Vietnam Memorial —>” So I walked down the little pathway, half expecting to see something like they have in Washington, and see some stones with names carved into them. Not very exciting at all. I was so upset that I missed 9/11 (even though I’ve been there before), waited an hour for everyone else (we got to the memorial while everyone was walking from 9/11 to there), only to look at the memorial that really was so uninviting. I was prepared to just go back home, because it was pretty disgraceful.

But then Renee and I went to look around me, because maybe we were missing something. And we came across the big thing in the middle with words on it. We had time to spare so we switched off reading every one of the letters that was engraved on the wall. It started to rain and we craned and bent our necks to decipher each word. Turns out, those letters from soldiers or families of soldiers, were very touching. It was crazy to think that these men were my age and were going to fight in the army and leaving behind their whole life. It was sad to read that they hated the war and didn’t know why they were fighting. It was hard to read the hope in their voices that they would be home soon. The letters were really heartfelt and made me think a lot of what life would be like if their was a draft and everyone had to leave to fight in a bloody war.

The thought was unpleasant. However, the thought of that being the memorial for such a thing was even more unpleasant. I mean, come on! This was a huge war that no one wanted to fight! America was basically fighting a third world county and they wouldn’t even win! Where was the huge memorial? Where was the endless waterfall? Where was the decipherable writing on the wall? To me that memorial was so shameful.

I’ve been to Israel many times and all over the State are beautiful memorials of wall the wars in which they fought. I don’t even have to go as far as Israel to make my point. Look at Washington DC- the grand memorials. Better yet- look at the 911 memorial! That’s a memorial! Something that everyone is aware of.

You could argue that 911 was something in our time, something recent, and that’s why the memorial is so grand and memorable. However, I bet in 60 years from now, that water will still be flowing endlessly, and that memorial will never fade. The same should be true about the Vietnam memorial- although it’s clearly not the case. If my grandfather had fought in the Vietnam War and all he got was a little section in the city that no one even knew existed, I’d be pretty upset.

This Halloween I did something that I normally don’t do on Halloween. This year, we attended the 9/11 and Vietnam Memorials. This trip was ironically appropriate to be doing on Halloween, but aside from the fact that both aspects of the day involved death, they both dealt with death very differently. Unlike Halloween’s rather irreverent approach to death, both memorials showed great respect for those who died in the 9/11 attacks and the Vietnam War.
The 9/11 memorial was a very beautiful place to be in, and that was what very unique about it. This memorial was an entire place and not just a wall made of stone. The memorial was built on the site where the two towers once stood. It consisted of a very large space with trees and two very large pools, representing the towers themselves. The pools were absolutely magnificent and thought provoking. Each pool had water flowing into a smaller pool and then into an even smaller pool that seemed almost bottomless. Perhaps this represents the effects that the falling of the towers had. The destruction of the attacks grew larger and larger as the moments passed, until the grief and horror seemed to be never ending, like the pit in the middle of each pool. Each pool also had the names of those who died in the tragedy engraved on their edges. The large number of names on each pool was extremely saddening, and it was really upsetting to see the phrase “and her unborn child” written next to many of the women’s names. Among all of the bitter and sad feelings I had from being in this place, there was also a sense of peace created by the beauty of the memorial. It almost seemed as if the beauty of the memorial tried to bring the souls of those who died, and their families, peace. One very large contributing factor to my feelings toward this memorial was the fact that I was alive when this happened, and I know people who were greatly affected by this atrocity.
Afterwards, we went to the Vietnam Memorial. This memorial seemed to be a bit forgotten. Unlike the 9/11 Memorial, there was no one else present, and it was not as well kept. Nonetheless, it was still beautiful. I was extremely affected by the letters written by soldiers included in the memorial. This aspect really helped convey the horrible effects of the war and what it was like to be alive during this time. This was especially helpful for someone like me, who was a bit detached from the event due to the passage of time. Another aspect of the memorial that was very compelling was the list of soldiers who died and their ages. Many of those who died were my age or a year older. They were just kids who witnessed the absolute worst aspect of life and human nature. The generation that held the future of society was sent off to be killed for absolutely no reason, and that was the most disgusting and saddening aspect of the Vietnam War.

My visit to the Vietnam Memorial and 9/11 Memorial were very emotional for me. Particularly the Vietnam Memorial. The Vietnam Memorial felt more personal to me. Unlike the 9/11 Memorial, where the names of the dead were displayed for everyone to see, the Vietnam Memorial included names as well as letters written by the soldiers. Those excerpts from those letters helped me see them as human beings, as someone to whom I could relate. It made me think what their lives were like in Vietnam, always on the alert, knowing they could die at any moment. The 9/11 Memorial on the other hand, although extremely tragic, was more impersonal to me, maybe because I never lost anyone in the attack, or because I was never in the country at the time.

Another reason the Vietnam Memorial had a greater emotional impact on me was because of its isolation. The 9/11 Memorial as turned into a tourist spot. I saw far too many people taking “selfies” and striking ridiculous poses at so solemn a site. It was disrespectful. Therefore, It was hard to become emotionally connected to that place. The Vietnam Memorial, on the other hand, was far removed from the more traditional tourist locations. Our class made up the majority of the visitors at that time. Being that it was so empty, I had no problem being emotionally invested at that place.

All in all, I enjoyed my visit to both sites. By enjoy I don’t mean I had a jolly good time. I enjoyed it in the sense that I was able to appreciate the location, and the people being remembered at both sites. Visiting both those sites, I felt overwhelmed by what had happened, both on U.S. soil, and on Vietnamese soil.