Pentagon, One Year Later

by Dennis Goza
Fall 2002

As the first anniversary of Sept. 11 approached, many of us were faced with a dilemma. Should we choose to do something commemorative, or just go about our business? Most people seemed to realize that even if they did manage to avoid talking or hearing about the event, or even, somehow, to avoid thinking about it consciously, it's always there, gnawing away at their innards. Trying to ignore it is like trying to ignore a rhinoceros in your kitchen. But taking some action to observe the anniversary might, just might, have some therapeutic effect.

It was especially hard for us to avoid reaching this conclusion. A year earlier, after 19 suicidal hijackers failed to thwart Zephyr's birthday plans, we'd already gaped and gasped in front of the smoldering ruins of the World Trade Center and a Pentagon with a big chunk missing like a sliced cake. We'd already shed tears with strangers at the New York memorial site in Union Square. What more did we have to offer? Still, as the date of infamy approached, we found ourselves in the Washington, D.C. area, and the rhinoceros would not be shooed away.

The obvious thing to do was visit the Pentagon again. We read in the news that in the morning there would be a large ceremony featuring Bush, and we wanted to avoid being there then. So we arrived by subway around noon, after the crowd had dispersed. But a smaller crowd had assembled, awaiting the start of a smaller ceremony, a private gathering especially for those connected with the Phoenix Project, as the Pentagon restoration effort has been dubbed. On the ride over, I was reading the most recent issue of Reader's Digest, which featured a story about a construction worker who lost a Navy son in the attack, and insisted on being part of the reconstruction team. Staying at a campground outside the city -- -perhaps the same one where we always stay -- -he pulled some very long hours to ensure that the project would be essentially complete within one year.

And it's been rather successful. There were still finishing touches to be added when we were there, but the wall was intact once again. We managed to get at least a partial view through the fences and scaffolding that had been erected for the occasion around that face of the building. Naturally, military police were jungle-thick, even bringing tanks along. All around the building were stationed teams of sentries in combat fatigues, carrying guns the size of anchors. All in all, the whole thing was a strangely comforting sight, particularly after seeing how the place looked last year. (We learned that ground was broken for the Pentagon on Sept. 11, 1941 -- -exactly 60 years before the attack!)

We then took the subway into the city for a brief afternoon of sightseeing. We decided somehow that the one thing we most wanted to do was return to the Smithsonian's Museum of American History. Perhaps we had an instinct that examining the nation's past would provide reassurances about the future. It was a propitious choice, because it happened to be opening day for a new exhibit on Sept. 11 (to be displayed for two months). It was a crowded exhibit, with people craning their necks to catch glimpses of artifacts of shattered innocence. Some of the odd items in the cases included a piece of steel beam from the World Trade Center alongside airplane pieces recovered from it, the cap worn by Rudy Giuliani, the bullhorn used by Bush, and the telephone on which Ted Olson received calls from his wife aboard one of the doomed jets. There was also a continuous showing of TV coverage, which we watched for the first time. (When the attacks occurred, we were at an isolated Pennsylvania campground, totally disconnected from the media, and our biggest concern was a bear that had been spotted.)

I was very glad to see that there was also a room with a number of tables and chairs where people could sit and write out, on forms provided, their remembrances of that day and their reflections on how it has changed their lives. These statements were to be archived, and some of them were even posted in a case on the wall. I was also glad to see that this room was being used rather heavily. Maybe the whole country needs a room like this. Will we ever shake off the aftershocks? How much number do we need to feel?