Condolences, 15 years later

With summer waning and the start of the school year fast approaching, we decided to forego the usual trip to the beach this year, in lieu of a closer destination.

We settled on the Dallas area, mainly because of its proximity to home, but mostly because we hadn't been there in years. We actually stayed in Fort Worth because, well, Dallas traffic is sheer insanity.

But I was willing to forego the craziness of drivers who can expertly change lanes at 85 mph 6 inches away from my front bumper and roads that are open one day and "closed -- under construction" the next to visit places like the Sixth Floor Museum, the Omni Tower, and The George W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum.

The Bush Presidential Library is located on the beautiful campus of Southern Methodist University, right off the North Central Expressway just north of downtown Dallas.

The center itself is located adjacent to a 15-acre urban park with a native Texas prairie landscape, which appeared brown and struggling in the withering summer heat. It wasn't easy to find the parking lot, which wasn't well marked, and we were soaked with sweat by the time we reached the entrance.

Aside from the impressive architecture and the friendly staff, I personally found the first section of the center's exhibits painfully boring and disappointing. The "Path to the Presidency," billed as a "fun, interactive" special exhibit wasn't exactly my idea of fun ("mind numbing" comes to mind), but things heated up a bit when we got to the section on presidential elections with, yes, an actual vial of "hanging chads."

A short time later, we rounded a corner and entered the "Sept. 11 Remembrance Display," and immediately came face-to-face with a 22-foot, pulverized steel beam from the World Trade Center. I felt the same chill down my sweat-soaked back that I got years beforehand, when we had visited the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C., and witnessed the large American flag that firefighters had draped over the side of the damaged Pentagon on Sept. 12, 2001, in Arlington, Va., the day after the terrorists' attack.

A mammoth video display curls along the top of one wall of the impressive exhibit, replaying news coverage and related videos from that tragic day.

The artifacts on display include the bullhorn that Bush used as he addressed a crowd of first responders at Ground Zero on Sept. 14: "I can hear you. The rest of the world hears you. And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear from all of us soon," and a port authority officer's badge, which Bush carried every day after 9/11, given to him by a grieving mother.

The names of the 3,000 or so people who died in the Towers, at the Pentagon, and on the hijacked planes are listed on a wall that wraps around the twisted piece of metal on display.

Sometimes, though, it's the little things in exhibits like these that really stay with you. One of those items on display was a letter that then-first lady Laura Bush had written to middle and high school students the day following the attack.

"Dear students," the letter begins, "On September 11, 2001, many Americans lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and friends in a national tragedy. Those who knew them are feeling a great loss, and you may be feeling sorrow, fear and confusion as well.

"The feelings and thoughts that surround this tragedy are as plentiful as they are conflicting. I want to reassure you that there are many people -- including your family, your teachers, and your school counselors -- who are there to listen to you.

"September 11 changed our world. But with each story of sorrow and pain comes one of hope and courage. As we move forward, all of us have an opportunity to become better people and to learn valuable lessons about heroism, love and compassion.

"As we mourn those who died, let us remember that as Americans, we can be proud and confident that we live in a country that symbolizes freedom and opportunity to millions throughout the world. Our nation is strong, and our people resilient. We have a well-earned reputation for pulling together in the worst of times to help each other.

"I send my best wishes and my hope that you will always take care of your family, friends, neighbors and those in need."

The last sentence really struck a chord with me as I stood there reading the letter, surrounded by a vast collection of fancy multimedia presentations and artifacts. Take care of your own; take care of others. If we take anything away from this tragedy of 15 years ago, that's what it should be.

Editorial on 09/11/2016

Upcoming Events