Read MoreLeonardo da Vinci was a spark. He was a luminous force in a dark world trembling in fear and ignorance for a millennia. Da Vinci is widely thought of just as an artist and painter. But Da Vinci was so much more than that. He may very well have been the most extraordinary man who’s ever lived.
A visit to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC is an emotive experience.
One need not be a military veteran nor even an American citizen to recognize the immense power of this extraordinary artwork, which pays tribute to those a generation ago who went to a faraway land and never returned home alive. It was our most tragic — and I might add senseless — military conflict.
I lived in Washington, DC for 12 years. During that time, many friends and relatives visited what remains a mesmerizing city. I always used those special occasions to travel around our capital, playing amateur guide to our nation’s most impressive monuments. For me, each accompanying visit was a reminder. A reinforcement of what patriotism really means.
The Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, the Iwo Jima Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery, the Jefferson Memorial and so many other attractions are powerful places to visit. They should be seen by everyone. In fact, I’ll go so far to say that every American has an obligation to make at least one trip to our nation’s capital to see and experience these sites firsthand. I’m not even sure one can really call himself or herself a true American without having stood next to these structures which represent the very essence of our nation.
However, one memorial above all the rest deserved to be seen. It moved me emotionally each and every time I visited — and always in a different way. I must have touched the granite wall perhaps two dozen times. Instead of becoming bored or indifferent to something I had laid eyes upon so many occasions before, each visit gave me a new perspective about our history, what personal sacrifice really means, and the value of life itself.
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Read MoreIn few more years, they’ll be gone.
Every one of them.
The millions who marched on foot across a continent and who sailed the high seas some 70 years ago are slowly but surely leaving us. They pass away at the rate of thousands per year, which will gradually come to a few hundred, and then to a trickle. In another decade or so, they will be no more.
They are what has been called “the Greatest Generation.”
Writer’s Note: This marks the first time I’ve written about the events of September 11, 2001. I resided at 1201 South Eads Street, located in the Crystal City section of Arlington, Virginia. My ninth-floor residence at The Bennington overlooked the Pentagon. I remember that morning.
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Photo by Charles Clyde Ebbets (1933)
Labor Day means to recognize and applaud the working class who built this country with their caloused hands, leathered skin, and broken backs — and who now strive to ensure that our society remains vibrant. This day serves as a reminder that the American middle class was created largely by the efforts of those in the labor movement during the first half of the 20th Century.
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Marieta Dalla
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