(you step out of line, the man come to keep you away)
The National September 11th Memorial is supposed to remember and honor the lives of the people killed in the attacks of that day. It’s also, in some way, supposed to stand as a symbol of our spirit, our resiliency, and (presumably) our freedom.
And so the thought that, to visit the memorial, you must reserve a ticket for a specific date and time, visit only at the appointed hours, pass through a metal detector, empty your pockets, place your purses and backpacks through an X-ray machine, and be otherwise vigilant not to disturb any of the otherwise high-security protocol, seems to me bitterly ironic at best, pretty damned depressing at worst.
That you are not required (yet) to remove your shoes, nor to submit to some sort of full-frontal crotch grab and body-cavity-ectomy, before you can go pay tribute to the lives of people who died at the hands of terrorists who (or so we’re told) hated us for the freedoms we used to have, is some small solace.
But not much.