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Archiver > SOMGEN > 2002-09 > 1031780840


From: "Mary Ann Herlihy" <>
Subject: Re: [SOMGEN] The Dress
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 2002 14:47:20 -0700
References: <004501c2599f$d63c3fa0$3ef8c518@rhondach2e34it>


Rhonda, Your poem was beautiful and just another reminder to me that there
are thousands of people in the world with good hearts and minds filled with
love and hope. Thank You, Mary Ann
----- Original Message -----
From: "Rhonda Whetstone Neibauer" <>
To: <>
Sent: Wednesday, September 11, 2002 7:30 AM
Subject: [SOMGEN] The Dress


> I wrote this last October, right after visiting the Flight 93 memorial
site in Shanksville. Hope no one minds me posting here. Please get
permission from me to use or reprint. Thanks! --Rhonda Whetstone
Neibauer/Researching family in Somerset and Bedford Counties
>
> The Dress
>
> Some years ago, I had a quilt made of fabric which my mother had,
>
> And as I gazed upon the squares, the memories made me glad,
>
> For I would see, in each piece, a part of my childhood past;
>
> The quilt was made of memories you see, and memories could last.
>
>
>
> There were squares that matched my clothing, from when I was still young,
>
> And some that matched the living room drapes and other curtains we hung.
>
> But the ones from my mother's dresses were the ones I could best recall;
>
> There is something so personal about a dress, and those memories from when
I was small.
>
>
>
> Once, as an adult, I was shown a dress from a hundred years past;
>
> A dress that belonged to my grandmother, worn when she was but a lass.
>
> I recognized it from a photograph and though she was long since gone,
>
> Seeing that dress made her come alive, and helped her memory live on.
>
>
>
> Searching out the long distant past and studying my family history,
>
> Has always brought me a sense of fulfillment as I solve each lineage
mystery,
>
> And putting objects together with photographs where comparisons can be
made,
>
> Tends to bring to life those people whose memories might otherwise dim and
fade.
>
>
>
> And so that day in Pennsylvania, as I visited the mountains my family knew
well,
>
> I felt a real sense of "belonging" too, a feeling that cast me under its
spell.
>
> Looking to find some answers, or perhaps closure in some sort of way,
>
> I found myself driving the autumn hillsides, searching for connections to
a different day.
>
>
>
> Past antique stores and courthouses, filled with shadows of things of
yore,
>
> I studied every old house I passed, I wondered at every country store.
>
> I knew that when the time was right, I would find what I now sought,
>
> But I also knew that what I needed most, was something that could not be
bought.
>
>
>
> I needed to find some answers; I needed to know much more;
>
> Most of all I needed to understand what had gone on before.
>
> I had to have a clearer picture of events I had only heard about.
>
> I needed to find that "one" thing that, for me, would sort everything out.
>
>
>
> Upon entering there, I first noticed the flowers--so many everywhere!
>
> And then I saw the photographs and could not help but stare,
>
> And wonder if the many people, whose faces I now beheld,
>
> Could tell me wondrous stories had not their voices been stilled.
>
>
>
> Generation upon generation, my ancestors had walked this land.
>
> I thought "How many lives are intertwined in this very spot where I
stand?"
>
> The people in the photographs, while not familiar to me,
>
> I knew had been loved and cared for, by friends and family;
>
>
>
> The letters lying next to the pictures, attested to that fact,
>
> And yet no amount of grief or wishing could bring these people back.
>
> Like others who have passed on before, leaving nothing but memories behind
>
> The way they laughed and loved and lived, will go on only in heart and
mind.
>
>
>
> I noticed others walking around me, their voices soft and low,
>
> And I wondered what they were thinking and if these people they might
know.
>
> But then my gaze was pulled away to the rest of the elaborate display
>
> And what I saw there in front of me, only brought me further dismay.
>
>
>
> Teddy bears and dolls and toys were scattered all around;
>
> More letters, notes and flowers, so out of place there on the ground.
>
> But the thing most incongruous, amidst the seemingly cluttered mess,
>
> Was the single, most unremarkable, plain, navy-blue dress.
>
>
>
> Had it been seen anywhere else, you would never have taken note,
>
> However, there is no way it should have been in this place so remote.
>
> I thought of the quilt made of fabric patches from what my mother wore,
>
> And understood the impact this dress would have on me, and on many more.
>
>
>
> I had no clue who placed that dress here, or if they could understand,
>
> How much that dress would "say" to me; it was as if well planned.
>
> It was the label of that dress that spoke volumes to those of us there
uninvited;
>
> A basic white label, with navy-blue writing . . . it simply said "UNITED."
>
>
>
> Through the hills of Somerset County, I have traced my ancestral lines,
>
> Searching old documents and records, for those who worked the farms and
the mines
>
> Although born and raised in Wisconsin, I nevertheless always felt a pull
back there.
>
> My roots are there in those mountains. My family history is everywhere.
>
>
>
> Although the memory of the September 11th tragedy, time can never erase,
>
> The hills of Somerset County have for these few, become their final
resting place.
>
> And although in life, the passengers of Flight 93, had no connection to
this site,
>
> The fact their lives will always be linked to Somerset now, somehow seems
alright.
>
>
>
> For those of us who do family research and seek answers to the past,
>
> The lives of those people on that flight are inexorably held as fast
>
> As the lives of ancestors we all hold dear and cherish the memory of;
>
> They are all a part of Somerset County, this land we have come to love.
>
>
>
> Before I depart I read the names of those who lost their lives that day.
>
> I take a moment to again look at the photos and another moment to pray.
>
> With emotions which I cannot explain, and a teardrop in my eye,
>
> I turn and walk away and bid this lonely memorial site goodbye.
>
>
>
> For me, from this day forward, how I view this area will be changed.
>
> Just like many other aspects of all our lives are often rearranged.
>
> But, as I leave I ask the Lord, the families of these people to lovingly
bless,
>
> And when I think of Somerset to always bring to mind, that navy-blue
flight attendant's dress.
>
> Rhonda Whetstone Neibauer/October 16, 2001
>
> (copyrighted-please do not use without my permission)
>

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