Philosophizing in Pennsylvania, Friday, April 4

This morning we woke up near Pittsburgh, where the prediction was rainy and 70. After this winter,  a rainy 70 sounded fabulous! I don’t think we got anywhere near 70, but the mid-50s were pleasant enough. And the rain held off while we visited Fallingwater.

Fallingwater is a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home about 70 miles southeast of Pittsburgh, and it was designed as a summer home for a wealthy family from that city. They originally envisioned a cottage with a view of the lovely waterfall on the property they owned, but ended up with something very different.

Wright designed a home in harmony with the environment, cantilevering the house built on/around huge boulders. The colors, lines and materials of the home reflect the natural surroundings, and that was the guiding principle. The wishes of the homeowners were a distant second. Their adult son was an architect who studied Wright’s work, and he talked them into going along with Wright’s plans.

It’s an amazing work, and all of us really enjoyed the informative tour. The tour concludes with a well-coordinated ask for support for this house that costs $1 million/year on average to keep up.

A not-so-distant second highlight of the visit was a warmish, humid day that made Pennsylvania feel like a subtropical paradise to us. The ubiquitous rhododendrons sport buds full of hope for green-deficient winter survivors.

After the prerequisite number of wrong terms and time spent interpreting the difference in the map, mapquest and imaps, we made our way to Shanksville, where United 93 crashed in a field on 9/11 after the passengers fought back against the terrorists who hijacked it.

 

It’s a bit out of the way, and it’s a work in progress. It was pouring rain and cooler when we drove in, so we went to the small Memorial Plaza, where a lone Park Ranger hangs out in the one heated, enclosed space.

The ranger tells what stories he knows of the passengers and crew who passed away. He explains what the memorial will look like when it’s finished—groves of memorial trees, a nice visitor center, as well as another portion. It will be quite beautiful, and I would like to see it again in a few years. There is a black wall along the place where the plane crashed, and there is a wall of names of the victims. The ranger was both enthusiastic and deeply respectful of the events that day.

He mentioned that sometimes the family members of victims visit, including the mother of a Japanese passenger. She visits every year on 9/11. The rain in some ways was an appropriately somber atmosphere for the visit.

Someone asked the ranger what he thought about the Malaysian flight that disappeared. He said that he thinks the Malaysian and Chinese governments know more than they are saying. He also went on to say that the 9/11 terrorists trained as pilots in the U.S., and that there were lots of other “foreigners” training, and they are all gone now. So they could be pilots anywhere, and now they have guns and are sealed in the cockpit. He said “The 9/11 Commission says it’s safer than ever to travel. But it’s not safe. I’m not saying you shouldn’t travel, but you have to be alert, and you have to be ready to look out for each other.”

That was a strange message to hear from a park ranger, though I understand where it’s coming from. The events of that day and what has come after demonstrate how difficult it is to balance security with community, protectiveness with openness. I know that my kids have grown up in a split condition, in the long shadow of 9/11 and at the same time sort of viewing it as ancient history. For me, it’s hard to control my emotions (shocking, I know) when I recall the recorded cell phone calls between those on the plane and their loved ones just before the plane went down.

But things have never been safe, and they never will be this side of Christ’s return. In general our lives are about as safe as any in history—we get few diseases, we have fire extinguishers, we have good childbirth care. I’m probably in more danger turning left on 28^th St than I am anywhere else. There are catastrophes—horrible, horrible catastrophes—like the terrorist attacks or natural disasters, but living in fear is against my calling as a Christian. We can live in fear or we can move forward in the faith that nothing can separate us from our Lord, making the most of every moment we’ve been given in this crazy, beautiful world.

Sermon over.

When we left Shanksville, the gas light came on in my van. Some of you are aware of what this means. I go into panic mode. After a few moments of internal hyperventilation, we used my beautiful smartphone to find a gas station that was not so far away. And we didn’t run out of gas. So much for me not living in fear. In fact, I confess that the parts of post-apocalypse books that freak me out the most is when people try to drive to a safer place and then run out of gas. There is NO MORE GAS. Stuck. Forever. No more travel. Let me take a moment for a few deep breaths.

Okay. So we travelled on to Lancaster. On the way I regretted not having a couple more days. We passed signs to the highway to Gettysburg, Hershey, etc. etc. So many places. And so many songs for me to inflict on my children as we drive along. Today Allison clapped along and Natalie waved her arms back and forth in the air as I completely nailed my version of Toto’s “Hold the Line.” Good times. We can only hope that none of these radio stations play Whitesnake’s “Slow An’ Easy.” My kids may never recover.

In spite of the options we passed up, we were about to hit a different tourist mecca. Pennsylvania Dutch country. Allison had to adjust her expectations when she found out we were staying at the inexpensive but decently rated Weathervane Motor Court. “It’s a MO-tel, not a HO-tel!” she said indignantly. The irritation is completely to do with the fact that we arrived at our Comfort Inn last night too late to go swimming, and the Weathervane has no pool. Because it’s a MO-tel. Somehow she’s surviving.

Since swimming was out of the question, we went to find dinner. We took a quick drive down a nearby back road and hit Amish World. Buggies make their way down the street to pull up at the farm store, surrounded by ridiculously overdone hotels and restaurants that promise authentic Amish stuff. In fact, one store’s sign reads: “Amish Stuff.” And underneath it, “Not just stuff…Amish stuff.” Then there’s the sign that says “The Amish Experience: Multi-media Theater.” What could be more true to the Amish experience?

In the spirit of the place, we stopped for dinner at The Good-N-Plenty Family Style Restaurant. It wasn’t until we were walking in that we realized this place was deceptively enormous, and that there were busloads of people packed in the dining room. Since it had taken a while to argue a couple of my kids out of Chick-Fil-A, I wasn’t about to turn around at that point. The food was pricey, but it was pretty good. And there was pie! What problems can’t be solved with pie?

Brian and I recently talked about the Shanksville memorial, wondering how many generations it might be before this could be a forgotten landmark. Obviously Ground Zero will keep a central place in our collective memories for a long time to come. But for the survivors and the next couple of generations, it’s important to memorialize the loss of these brave people too. In the same way, the curators of Fallingwater are working to keep a memory alive, and even the Indian man who owns our motel in Pennsylvania Dutch country are celebrating and trying to hold on to a different way of life.

Andrew mentioned today that he sometimes gets overwhelmed thinking of the infrastructure of roads in the U.S. How did we make that many roads and bridges, and how do we keep them all up? So many ways we fight to maintain control during change in the world, our history, and our future.

Tomorrow we will head to Newark, where we will meet up with Brian at the hotel after he flies in and we'll make our first foray into NYC. Yet another completely different way of life. Who knows what the future holds? We only know who holds it.