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ONE YEAR LATER |
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 Gina Gallo is based in Chicago, IL |
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By GINA GALLO
of TheColumnists.com
It’s the last thing you’d expect to find
in Sin City. At first glance, it looks like any other night on
the strip. Surging along Las Vegas Boulevard, the usual raucous
crowd of tourists, gamblers, and assorted others have come to
relax, kick back and party with a vengeance. The noise seems
endless here, a cacophony of sounds, shouts and blaring traffic
that echo along this glitzy stretch. But near the intersection
of Tropicana Boulevard the din subsides, fading to a reverent
hush.
It’s the New York New York Hotel and Casino, where a 150-foot
model of the Statue of Liberty stands guard over the mock New
York Harbor, complete with water-spraying FDNY fireboats and
a NYPD marine unit. It’s here that people pause to stare,
to remember, and to say a prayer at what’s become one of
the biggest 9/11 shrines in the country.
It began as an impromptu gesture of support and gratitude by
visiting firefighters. After scrawling messages on their own
department T-shirts, they draped them carefully on the short
iron fence that surrounds the harbor. Soon other firefighters
and police officers joined in, either bringing or mailing similar
uniform shirts, badges, emblems and hats to add to the shrine.
Every contribution bore a written message--some long and detailed,
others merely a signature--but all expressed heartfelt emotion.
Hotel management reports that, in a year’s time, contributions
to the shrine now number in the thousands. Pictures, tokens and
other memorabilia grace the fence along with the T-shirts, the
messages and and the tears of a nation brought together by heartbreak
and resolve. Only a few yards distance separates the casino from
what’s become a street cathedral.
There among the bars and shows and tipsy revelers is a place
that demands reverence.
It’s where we recall our past, remember our fallen and pray
for our future.
We lost our innocence a year ago. On Sept. 11, an aerial Armageddon
shattered our “can’t happen here” illusions, replaced
that vanquished innocence with a sense of fearful vulnerability
sealed with our blood. The greatest tragedy ever to occur on
American soil was broadcast nationally, in living and dying color
that left no doubt. Not only had the unthinkable happened here,
but it can again, we realized. And as fear gave way to panic,
the seemingly impossible happened.
Mustering all of its strength and even more resolve, America
under siege became America united. No longer just united states,
we became a unified family. Disparate groups and separate social
classes came together to bear our burden of grief as well as
the daunting task of recovery.
But even then, there were the critics. Some raised a skeptical
brow at what they called a knee-jerk rash of patriotism, claiming
it wouldn’t last. Others pointed to the sordid examples
of opportunism in the wake of tragedy--looting at Ground Zero,
fraudulent 9/11 charity groups, money and photo scams that circulated
via the internet. And when people began to whine about the dollar
amount of 9/11 victim’s benefits, they predicted a return
to what had been before. Altruism lasts only so long, doesn’t
it?
In one short year, we’ve learned the answer. For each of
those skeptics, a hundred more people stepped forward, speaking
eloquently through action. It wasn’t only at Ground Zero
that volunteers joined in to salvage the American spirit. There
were rescue efforts that went far beyond the simple act of collecting
money or donating time or items to the victims’ cause. But
in order to see the bigger picture, look past the Old Glory lapel
pins that seemed to blossom overnight, or the suction-cupped
American flags that became the hot auto accessory this year.
It’s not about money or flags or trendy fads.
In one year we lost our innocence, acknowledged our vulnerability,
and--finally--came to appreciate our diversity as strength. Arms
that once raised in protest now reach out in a show of support,
ready to prop up those who waver, or those still trying to find
their way. Opinions once divergent now agree on what matters
most. We are a family united, bound by respect, nurtured by positive
action. A concept that gets lost in the shuffle, most of the
time, as we each rush through our busy lives. But it happens,
occasionally--an impromptu occurrence that reminds us of who
we are and where we’ve been....and how we got this far.
It’s there that we find grace.
Like the Iowa Sunday School class that shipped bushels of apples
to our ground troops about to be deployed to Afghanistan.
“American as Apple Pie,” their letter said. “Thank
you for protecting our freedom.”
Or like the senior citizens' home that sponsored a “Hugs
and Stitches” day.
Provided with knitting needles and skeins of yarn, the seniors
made sweaters and scarves for the 9/11 cause. In that moment,
the elderly became the elders. In the handwritten messages that
accompanied their gifts, they sent wishes for strength and hope
and courage. Running a shriveled finger over the numbers tattooed
on her upper arm, one white-haired lady wrote simply, “You
have to have faith. You must endure.”
Or like the neon-washed strip of Las Vegas where liquor and lust
speak as boldly
as the rolling dice. What began as a gesture of gratitude and
respect has provided Babylon with a street-corner basilica. A
place where we honor our heroes, recall how they led us through
the darkness ...and showed us how to walk together into the light.
© 2002 by Gina Gallo. The logo illustration is © 2001
by Jim Hummel.
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