Stonycreek draws thousands of visitors to consecrate the resting place of 40 who were aboard Flight 93 on 9/11

STONYCREEK, Pa. — Kathy Williamson, 70, and Curtis Williamson, 72, North Carolina residents traveling cross-country in a recreation vehicle, wanted to pay their respects to American fallen heroes.

Rebeca Castillo, 42, an El Salvador tourist visiting the United States for the first time, was curious to see with her own eyes a site of the atrocity that glued her to her TV 20 years ago.

And Ethan and Abby Teare, both 31, of Cleveland, said they wanted to bring their newborn daughter to a place that helped define 21st-century America.

They are just a few of the 400,000 people per year who visit this once-ordinary field in Stonycreek, a township in Somerset County that is roughly 80 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. National media tend to locate the site in Shanksville, a nearby borough.

Both municipalities lost their obscurity on Sept. 11, 2001, when United Airlines Flight 93, one of the four commercial jetliners hijacked by al-Qaida terrorists, crashed into a nearby former coal field after a struggle between passengers and hijackers, who were aiming for Washington, D.C., to hit the White House or U.S. Capitol. No one survived the crash.

The skyjackings that morning resulted in two planes crashing into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, causing both buildings to collapse, and one plane crashing into the Pentagon just outside the nation’s capital. Flight 93 was the last plane to crash. All four crashes occurred within just under two hours and left nearly 3,000 dead.

Ever since 9/11, the plot of land in Stonycreek has transformed into an international tourist destination. Once cordoned off by wire fencing adorned with images and notes left by visitors, it is now a 2,200-acre national park complete with a museum exhibit, a gift shop selling Flight 93 T-shirts and keychains, a hiking trail, a 93-foot tall wind chime tower, and a memorial.

“A common field one day. A field of honor forever.”

Uttered by a Los Angeles Fire Department captain, the quotation, adopted by the memorial as its motto, portrays Flight 93 as one of the few victories on 9/11.

People who visit the site bring different background knowledge and experiences about 9/11. Many recall exactly where they were. Others were too young to remember, while some were not yet born. As visitors walk through the park, taking in expansive views of hilly Pennsylvania, murmurs about people’s personal 9/11 experiences — where they were, whom they were with, what they felt on that day two decades ago — waft through the air.

In September 2001, Abby and Ethan Teare had just started sixth grade in Mrs. Stone’s class in eastern Ohio. The married couple, who started dating in high school, have vivid, though varying, memories of that day: Ethan Teare remembers watching TV at school, while Abby Teare remembers her parents picking her and her brother up early.

Ethan Teare, a high school math teacher, and Abby Teare, a grant writer with a master’s degree in public history, brought their 2-month-old daughter, Marjorie, to the memorial on a balmy day in July. They sat on the grass eating a packed lunch, playing with Marjorie as she lay on her back.

Abby Teare hopes to instill in her daughter her appreciation for the places where history occurred — and where she says America’s “collective identity” formed.

“It’s so intangible, but when you’re there, you just get this. Like, it’s an energy about the place and a feeling that you get when you’re there that is larger than life,” Abby Teare said. “That’s always been important to me, because that’s where I feel most connected to the events and the people that have kind of shaped our country.”

Ethan Teare said his students were born after 2001, saying: “I’m like, ‘Oh, my gosh. You all were not here.’ "

For young people and future generations, he believes the heroism demonstrated by passengers and crew on the plane offers a timeless lesson in the impact people can have when they come together for a shared cause.

“It’s a really good example of what we can do, like when a random collection of people all come together to assert themselves to do something,” he said. “Especially given how divided a lot of things are now, right? Like you had this random group of people, in a situation that had really never happened before, and they decided to do what you would argue is right.”

Wandering the memorial site alone, Ellis Rich, 25, was in awe.

In awe of the simple beauty of “The Wall of Names”: a white marble wall engraved with names of the 40 dead, noting crew members or, in one case, a passenger carrying an unborn child. In awe of the fear palpable in the voices of passengers aboard the flight, recorded in voicemails sent to loved ones available for listening at the museum. In awe of their bravery and compassion.

“Listening to the recordings, it’s like, it’s like hard not to cry,” Rich said.

He doesn’t have any memories from 9/11, when he was a 5-year-old in Memphis, Tenn., where he still resides. Lack of personal experience, though, doesn’t make him any less appreciative of what the site consecrates.

“What this day is, or this memorial is commemorating, is like one of the most important days in American history,” he said. “Forty average Americans really stood up and did something extraordinary. We watch movies about stuff like this happening. And these people actually lived through it. And they had to stand up and actually do something, you know, and that’s just unreal.”

About the memorial, he added: “It does justice to the event. It did a really fantastic job capturing, you know, what this meant to our country and what it means to people that were actually alive to remember it and those that are born after the fact.”

Local Pennsylvania residents like Vicki and John Bertolino help the memorial remind people of the tragedy and heroism that took place in Stonycreek, which is less than 50 miles from their home in Ebensburg, Cambria County.

John Bertolino, 69, and Vicki Bertolino, 72, have been to the crash site numerous times. When family and friends visit them, the Bertolinos ask them if they would like to visit the site, which they always do, Vicki Bertolino said.

The site evokes sharp memories for her. After hearing about a plane crash into one of the Twin Towers, then the second and then the Pentagon, “I just kept thinking they’re gonna go straight through the country,” she said. “Then it was right here, kind of in our own backyard.”

Vicki Bertolino’s reason for bringing people to the memorial is to respect the sacrifices of the passengers and crew on the plane. Her husband said he brings people to preserve history — an appreciation for which he believes is diminishing.

“It’s part of our history. They’re trying to kill history,” John Bertolino lamented. “People got to remember what has happened and what can happen. And I think it’s a good reminder to especially young people. It’s a reminder of what this country stands for.”

For all intents and purposes, Rebeca Castillo, 42, has no connection to 9/11. A native of La Libertad, El Salvador, she had never even been to the United States. But on her first visit to the country this summer, she made her way to remote Stonycreek to see the Flight 93 crash site.

Like Americans, Castillo said she was emotionally distraught as she watched images of the plane crashes projected on her TV news back home in El Salvador. At the time, she was working as a high school teacher.

“I felt my blood was cold. And I felt nervous,” she recalled. “I didn’t know about this until a couple of hours later because the main event was the towers attack. People were talking about it. They were scared, they were surprised, they were amazed. Everyone was talking about it: ‘Do you know what happened in the United States?’”

As a result, she said she visited the memorial to Flight 93 — which had passengers from Germany, New Zealand and Japan aboard — with her two teenage children in tow to see the place she remembers projected on TV 20 years ago.

“As human beings, I think one thing like this: I think hearts were kind of [pulsing] from whatever country, especially if you realize that it was an attack, you see, and kind of the way that the things happened — makes you feel like you’re fragile,” Castillo said. “Things can happen in one moment. And it can change the history of one country.”