Officially Unamerican

While in NYC, Jon and I saw the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and of course, Macy's at Herald Square. Nearly everything about the city is iconically American, and our itinerary reflected it.

Except for Ground Zero. We never did get there, and I feel hideous admitting this, as if I'm renouncing my own mother, but: I'm not sorry that we missed it.

Why do we feel compelled to pay homage at sites of extreme sadness? We know it happened. We're in a city celebrating our freedom to move freely about the country. Why make a point to stop somewhere that is only going to make us feel awful for having fun? Heck, it'll make us feel bad for even being alive.

My hypocrity is further evidenced by my planning for my next big trip in a couple of years - I want to go to Germany and Poland, and do the World War II thing. Is it that Ground Zero is still too fresh? The wounds too raw to hold up to examination?

We went to the NYC Police Museum. I'm especially drawn to things I cannot do, such as police work, spy work, and cook decently. What should have been a bit of a lark on the itinerary ended up being both Jon's and my favorite stop. The artifacts on display were fascinating, heartwrenching, inspiring. Coming face-to-face with the twisted metal remnants of the lights of a destroyed police car was hard. It brought immediacy to the experience that, before, was something that happened clear across the country from me. Standing in a warehouse building, looking at the blackened shoulder radios and dirty work boots, I began to understand what a devastating violation 9/11 was.

While Jon and I didn't journey to the actual site of Ground Zero, we left NYC with a renewed respect for emergency service personnel. Politics aside, the remembrance of sacrifices that were made that day was tucked into our suitcases alongside our books on the history of the Empire State Building and NYPD T-shirts. We brought those sights home with us, and our world became a little bit smaller.