2. Shanksville
In the Fallingwater parking lot after the tour, I'm checking the atlas for the last leg of
my trip to New York when I happen to notice in very small print just north of the
Pennsylvania Turnpike, not more than 20 miles from where I am now, the word
"Shanksville."
Memory clicks: Shanksville, the other Ground Zero.
An hour later I'm lost north of I-70. My trusty atlas, when you get down
to county-level roads, turns out to be not so trusty. I meet a farmer moseying along at a
leisurely five miles an hour on his tractor and ask directions.
Soon enough I pull into the townlet of Shanksville. On the village green
is a sign welcoming me to the "Home of the Vikings." Hanging below is another
sign:
"Shanksville Honors the Heroes of Flight 93."
That's it. My curiosity is not sufficiently morbid to move me to ask for
directions to the place where Flight 93 came down. I get back in the car and am ready to
set out for New York when I notice a small hand-lettered sign stuck in the ground nearby:
"Flight 93 Impact Site,"
with an arrow pointing left.
Several miles later, seeing no other cars, I'm about to turn around when I
come to another sign: "Flight 93 Temporary Memorial," with an arrow to the
right.
Now I'm on private property, some kind of gravel company. The land is
barren, with here and there giant shovel devices poking above the hills. After a couple of
miles, again with no one on the road, I mount a hill and a large shallow valley opens in
front of me...
Here I will let the pictures speak, with just these two notes. This was,
remember, a Friday in October, and somehow all these people had also found their way here.
The crowd was eerily silent. When people talked, they talked in whispers.