Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 6

Click HERE to start reading at Day 1 entry.

On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, America came under attack when four commercial airliners were hijacked and used to strike targets on the ground. Nearly 3,000 innocent people lost their lives. Because of the actions of the 40 brave passengers and crew aboard one of the planes, Flight 93, the attack on the U.S. Capitol was prevented. The site where Flight 93 crashed is now a national memorial and was our next destination.

Tower of Voices

Pretty much in the middle of nowhere, outside of Stoystown, Pennsylvania, a rural town of only 428 residents, is an empty field now considered by most Americans as holy ground. The first thing you see as you near the site is the Tower of Voices, a 93-foot-tall (in recognition of Flight 93) musical instrument holding forty wind chimes, representing the forty passengers and crew members who perished. It is the only chime structure like this in the world. Surrounded by wildflowers, the structure was built on an oval concrete plaza on top of an earthen mound to create an area more prominent on the landscape. The shape and orientation of the tower are designed to optimize airflow through the tower walls to reach the interior chime chamber. The chime system is designed using music theory to create the range of frequencies needed to produce a distinct musical note associated with each chime. The intent is to create a set of forty tones (one “voice” for each of the passengers and crew members) that can represent the serenity and nobility of the site while also recalling the event that consecrated the site. It’s an interesting structure that sets the reflective and somber tone for what’s to come, but unfortunately for us, the wind must be blowing at least 5 MPH for the chimes to work and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze while we were there. Later, I spoke to one of the Park Rangers and she said the sounds were haunting and mesmerizing. Go to Youtube and search on "flight 93 tower of voices" to listen to a recording of the chimes.

After leaving the Tower of Voices, we proceeded to the visitor center, a large single-story building that houses a permanent exhibition focusing on Flight 93. This is where emotions surged as we viewed actual artifacts from the crash – pieces of the plane, personal items of the crew and passengers, a scorched and torn bible, a child’s shoe, a man’s damaged wallet, bent silverware, a burned and badly damaged seat belt, a damaged watch stopped at 10:03 – the time when the plane crashed into the ground. There is a station with headphones for you to listen to heart-wrenching voice message recordings of the last words sent by doomed passengers and crew members saying goodbye to family, spouses, and children. “Honey, I love you. I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this. Tell the children I love them!” “Hey sis, something bad is happening on the flight right now. If I don’t make it, my banking papers and stuff is in the safe and the combination is…” “Hey, Babe. This may be the last time I get to tell you how much I love you and the kids. Please don’t forget that.” Most of the people standing there listening to those messages had tears in their eyes. I did too.

Going through the rest of the very well done exhibition brought more emotions to the surface – sadness, confusion (how could someone do that to innocent men, women, and children, no matter what you believe or how strong that belief is), impotent rage at the so-called “people” who did that, and yes, a strong need for revenge, a desire to rid the world of anyone who is capable of doing that to another human being.

The boulder in the field at the end of the path
is the spot where the plane hit the ground 

At the end of the exhibition hall, there are large glass windows that look out onto the actual site where the plane hit the ground. There is a large rock that marks the exact spot. I stood there in deep thought looking at that rock for a long time. So did my buddy Chip, not saying anything, each lost in our own thoughts. Later, as we walked outside of the building along the “Flight Path Walk,” (a paved walkway that followed the final flight path) we passed beside a white wall that was inscribed with the names of all 40 innocent souls.

It was an interesting, but sad day. Even now, as I sit here writing about it, I still get emotional. I’m sure I will for a long, long time. Pulling away from the site, we didn't say much for a long while. We didn't have to. Chip simply said, "Wow." I quietly replied "Yeah." Enough said.

Next on our road trip agenda was Intercourse. Of course, two guys in a car on a road trip had to amuse ourselves for a few miles with crude jokes about the town name. What can I say? It's what guys do when the wives are not around. Getting to the little unincorporated village of Intercourse, Pennsylvania from Stoystown was a genuinely nice drive of 175 miles through rolling, wooded hills, open green pastures, and small towns. Along the way, we passed a number of old abandoned homes and barns – all left to the winds of change and the whims of history, but every one of them has a story to tell. For most, the story will remain untold. When you don’t know the facts, you can only fill in the blanks with your imagination. How old is this old house, the one with the falling in front porch? Who built that old, weathered barn, the one with that door hanging on just by the top hinge? How many families called that old farmhouse “home,” the one surrounded by shade trees and now mostly covered with honeysuckle vines? Every time I see one, I think about that, and wonder, what happened to the people?

A few miles outside of town, we started seeing Amish in their horse-drawn buggies and distinctive clothing. As soon as we entered the town’s limits, the streets were filled with buggies, Amish children riding their strange self-propelled “skateboards” and lots of tourist’s cars. Somehow, perhaps enabled by the large streets wide enough for cars and buggies to drive side-by-side, it didn’t seem overly crowded. We were to be disappointed at our first stop, the American Military Edged Weaponry Museum. Their website said they were open. Guess it had not been updated because it was closed with signs on the doors indicating it was because of Covid-19. We were disappointed, but you gotta expect stuff like that to happen and just roll with it.

Inside the Kitchen Kettle store

Next up was just a couple of blocks away – the Kitchen Kettle Village with its 42 shops and restaurants. This is where we had a really nice time, shopping for souvenirs, walking around looking at the handmade quilts, pottery, art, fine leathers, and homemade foods. We ate homemade ice cream while sitting in the shade under a large oak tree watching an exceptionally talented duo playing instruments and singing. We came away with a lot of homemade food items to bring back home to share with our wives – jams, jellies, various mixes, and bags of jerky. Everyone was very friendly and interesting to talk with. One of the ladies in the Kitchen Kettle store (where maybe I got just a tiny bit carried away and bought 4 different jams and 4 different jellies plus a cornbread mix) told us nobody is positive how the town name of Intercourse came about, but the most common story is that the community grew up around the intersection of two main roads, what the Amish refer to as an "intercourse." It was a very relaxing, calm, and fun way to spend an afternoon, something we both needed after the emotional visit to the Flight 93 Memorial.

Trying to eat it all before
 it melts!

Reluctantly leaving Intercourse, we drove a short 20 miles to Lititz, another little town in Amish country. There, we found the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery. Founded in 1861, it is the oldest pretzel bakery in America. They had many different flavors of fresh-baked pretzels for sale as well as a bunch of tools for making your own pretzels, t-shirts, and other souvenir items. Neither of us are big pretzel eaters, so we weren’t overly thrilled with this stop, but it’s cool to say you’ve been to the oldest pretzel bakery in America. And being able to truthfully say, “been there, done that, got the t-shirt” is part of the reason for a road trip!

It was getting close to sundown, our usual “let’s find a place to stop for the night” alarm, but we were both feeling good so we decided to drive 3 hours to our next destination, – Bethel, New York, to be there early in the morning. Unfortunately, our prevailing good luck with finding a good hotel each night, even without reservations, was about to come crashing down. Big time.

Click HERE for Day 1.  Click HERE for Day 2&3. Click HERE for Day 4&5.