WE STROLLED along the Indiana Government Center and walked past Fire Station 13. The firefighters apparently had just returned from a call and that immediately caught the attention of my 6-year-old grandson Jack.
He was feeling somewhat jaunty and adult-like, wearing the green Army combat green fatigue shirt I had worn decades ago and had given him the night before . It didn’t matter that my last name was above the breast pocket.
Just don’t say anything about our names and maybe they’ll think I’m an Army guy, Grandpa!
Fair enough.
A few more steps and we were standing on the apron of the Indianapolis 911 Memorial, a small plaza overlooking the fountains of the Downtown Canal. It was an early quiet Saturday morning, less than a week after a special dedication ceremony marked a place to honor the memories of the lives lost on that horrible day a decade ago. Stone benches on which to sit and reflect. Stone markers recalling the timeline of that day in New York City, the Pentagon and a field in Shanksville, Pa.
And two miniature towers loom overhead – two support I-beams which tumbled when the World Trade Center collapsed.
My inquisitive little man let loose with a barrage of questions as we discussed our visit. No surprise little escapes Jack’s observations. Truth be told, I didn’t have adequate answers or responses at the time. Had I been more eloquent…
How did that eagle get up there on top of that thing? (A thoughtful artist designed it to symbolize our best national sense of liberty and strength even during the darkest of moments).
They probably should’ve dusted these [beams] off before they put ‘em up. (Sorry, my boy, but we can’t dust or scrape away the patina of our history and what happened that day).
How come that airplane crashed into a field? (Because there were brave souls who knew it would have killed more people and caused more damage).
These were bad guys who did this weren’t they? (Yes. Murderers of any stripe always are. Particularly those who do so in the name of God or a god unknown).
JACK AND I WALKED along the canal past the whirring waterfall then made our way
up the concourse near the statue of a young Abraham Lincoln. Quietly, I wondered if my grandson’s only real reference to this figure was the face of $5 bill or some cheap-jack advertisement. He was interested to learn that our 16th president actually had lived in Indiana for most of his young life.
My grandson grinned as he stood at the feet of the stony Great Emancipator. I gave him another brief history lesson about how this lanky man held a nation together during some dark times.
He sure has big feet and hands! Jack laughed as I snapped a photo of him at the pedestal. And I guess a pretty good face.
Yes. A good face. So many good faces in this country of ours -- both in sunshine and in shadow. Thank you, Jack, for reminding me of so many decent and joyous things on this outing together. We have so much to remember – and to celebrate.
A few hours later, it occurred to me that the day was made all all the more special.
It was U.S. Constitution Day. And I had the opportunity to share it with one of its latest beneficiaries .
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