Remembering Memorials

The two memorials we visited were structurally very different from one another and, I think, sought to accomplish different goals. The 9/11 Memorial is grand: two huge waterfall pools amongst rows and rows of trees, creating a scenic and pensive atmosphere. The design is in fact titled “Reflecting Absence.” Water is the quintessential symbol of reflection, as it mirrors whatever peers into it. Here, not only do the thousands of tourists try to look into the pools, but the pools also are facing the sky of Manhattan—the city’s towering buildings. I don’t know exactly what that could mean, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that where these two pools are now, the tallest buildings of Manhattan once stood. We see the skyline in the pools’ reflection, but a different skyline than what once was. The pools are serene, but also are quite frankly giant holes in the ground, and I think that there is something melancholy about that. Maybe it reminds us of the destruction that took place, the gaping hole that remains in New York City, in out hearts, in the world. The 9/11 Memorial is a place that induces contemplative thought, self-reflection.

The Vietnam memorial surely also provokes thought, but it does so differently. And, possibly more importantly, it provokes a different kind of thought. Where the 9/11 Memorial was grand and striking, the Vietnam memorial contained nothing more than a modest wall, its site inconspicuous to the average passerby. There was one small round fountain, which if I’m not mistaken was empty when we visited. And if it wasn’t, well clearly it didn’t impact me enough to remember it. The most noticeable part of this memorial was the use of words on the wall, the myriad of letters written by soldiers during the war. It was, to say the least, sad. Most of the letters were pessimistic, reflecting doubts in the country and in humanity. It was the complete opposite of the 9/11 Memorial. Where the 9/11 Memorial used words to remember the fallen, thousands of names encircling the pool in a meditative, symbol-of-life sort of way, the Vietnam memorial used words to exhibit death and hopelessness. They both reflect the respective public opinion of what happened: 9/11 was a unanimous tragedy; we are all essentially affected the same way. The Vietnam War doesn’t have that; there are no undisputed opinions about anything, even (especially) about the morality of our own soldiers. We try to honor the dead, though not without questions on humanity.

The wall was, however, made of glass, which also contains a reflective quality. But the letters printed on that glass steer our contemplation in a certain direction. The 9/11 Memorial was completely full of people, while we were the only ones at the Vietnam Memorial. The juxtaposition of the two memorials in my mind clearly highlights the differences in physical appearance and in meaning. And I think that to some extent, we all will remember the event by how we remember the memorial.