Maybe I'm getting a little sentimental in my old age, but I'll admit to tearing up a bit last Monday at the dedication of the new Veterans Memorial in Reedsburg.
It really seems like not so long ago that Jeff and I went to the groundbreaking. It was one of only a handful of events we've ever covered together, and I was only an intern at the time. The speakers then focused on a grand vision for that tiny corner of Nishan Park, and I had a hard time picturing it. As they stood there with their ceremonial shovels, posing for photos, the completion seemed so far off in the future, still a someday, still a dream. Three years later on July 4, the Memorial was finished.
I've visited my future in-laws in Washington D.C. a few times now and have hit up most of the touristy monument stops in the area. But I have never been moved the way I was last Monday, viewing the Reedsburg Memorial in its finished state for the first time. The glossy black granite panels display scenes from the US's past and current conflicts and fittingly, they also reflect the viewer. I went back early on Tuesday morning to get some shots of just the Memorial, including the photo above that I put on the front page later that day. Sitting on the warm cement in the exact center of the site, the environment was calm, quiet, meditative, the Memorial and flagpoles looming above me, stretching into the sky.
I grew up in Reedsburg, and I constantly marvel at how working for the Indy gives me a totally different perspective on my humble hometown. In the last three years, we've covered every fundraising effort for this Memorial, every Vet Fest, every raffle, every donation, and the Packer Tailgate that came to town last year just to name a few (of many) off the top of my head. Had I been just a citizen, I might have been too wrapped up in my own life to notice what was going on in that corner of Nishan Park, and how the citizens of Reedsburg were tirelessly working to make that dream a reality.
I've had very few profound moments in life, where everything seems to move slowly, where time stops, as though the world is in a vacuum and centers on that one moment. The last time was the June 2008 flood, walking away from Pineview Elementary, clutching my flood clean-up kit. This time the experience was positive. On Monday, a few hundred people came together to welcome this Memorial into the community, listening to speakers, exploring the grounds, celebrating the hard work and dedication of so many people. On Tuesday, I was fortunate to be able to spend some time with the Memorial, taking it in, observing and photographing and experiencing the stillness of the place. It was a privilege to cover this story over the past three years and to see the Memorial come to fruition.
More photos on my Flickr.
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