We passed a sign that said "Flight 93 Memorial, 3 Miles" with an arrow pointing north. I hit the brakes, did a U-turn, and followed the signs to the middle of a field outside the tiny town of Shanksville, PA. I was at my office in the Rayburn Building on a beautiful September morning almost six years ago when the world turned upside down.
We were gathered around the TV, watching the World Trade Center burn, when one of my colleagues pointed out the window and told us to turn around. Black smoke filled the air across the Potomac River from the gash ripped in the Pentagon by another hijacked airplane.
The Capitol Hill Police rushed into our office and told us to evacuate RIGHT NOW. They didn't tell us that Flight 93, still airborn, was headed for the Capitol -- they just told us to leave NOW. Had the passengers on that flight not acted to bring the plane down in a field in rural Pennsylvania, my life would be very different than it is today.
As I stood there this afternoon, looking at the place where United Flight 93 crashed in the midst of corn fields and strip mines, I didn't expect it to hit me as strongly as it did. But watching the sun set behind the waving flags and makeshift memorials, I was overcome with feelings of grief and gratitude.
Plans to build a permanent memorial are underway, with the dedication planned for the 10th anniversary in 2011.
http://www.flight93memorialproject.org/
http://www.honorflight93.org/site/c.8dJCKQNuFoG/b.1555703/k.BD7E/Home.htm
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