Riding past the monuments and museums on a double-decker bus we saw the sights of DC. Every place we went was packed with people from all walks of life from around the globe. There was constant chatter, narrators, cameras, groups wearing like-colored shirts. It was duly noted that the National Mall falls under the National Parks which explains why it's all so clean, neat and kept up. It's good to see that the most visited area of DC is kept clean for all the world to see.
But on the second day of our visit my son and I decided to venture down to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial. For some reason I thought "memorial" preceded by "national" might mean that it, too, would be perfectly kept and clean like the National Mall. Not so much. Perhaps because I've been a police dispatcher for almost 16 years I'm a bit too critical of what I expected versus what I saw. It wasn't dumpy, just less kept up than I had imagined. Other than a couple street folks sleeping on one of the walls we were the only visitors. They kept to themselves, lazing in the shade of the trees. My son said, "At least they aren't laying on the side of the wall where the names are engraved." Okay, I can live with that. No one sleeping there at all would be better but he makes a valid observation. We wondered if maybe they knew some of the names listed there. Possibly not but one never knows. We pushed judgment aside and went about our business.
At each of the four corners of the Memorial are podiums. Each podium is stocked with papers and pencils in order to do a rubbing of an officer's name from the Memorial if you so desire. Each station has a thick book listing all of the names carved there. All 18,983 of them. It's wrong that so many names need be listed there. Each name belongs to a person who was near and dear to someone in this world. The story of how they died is known all too well by those left behind and more importantly how they lived is remembered constantly. Stories are told and memories passed on with smiles and laughter, tears and heartache. My son found the name he was looking for then took a paper and pencil.
The Memorial was being renovated this year, restricting access to some of the panels. There were two men working on this day; they were beginning to put materials away and clean up. I noticed my son sitting on the grass, looking a little long in the face as I approached him. "Did you get your rubbing, buddy?" I inquired. The answer came as his eyes welled up. "No, I'm not allowed over there", he said quietly as he plucked a few blades of grass and looked down to avoid eye contact. My heart stopped with the realization that the panel may be unavailable. One of the workers hollered over, asking if we needed into the area where they were working. I told him "yeah I think so" to which he responded "it'll be 30-45 minutes if you feel like waiting". He sounded exasperated. We guessed the heat and long day of working in the sun had worn down his people skills. We sat on the grass as time passed by. We'd flown across the continent and were due to fly home the next day. If we had to wait till midnight, we were waiting!
Almost 45 minutes later, the other worker walked over to ask which panel we needed then motioned for us to come look closer just in case the name was accessible. Wouldn't you know the panel was covered in resurfacing solution and was too sticky to do a rubbing! Know what else though? The man who had motioned us over is the man who engraved each and every name on the monument. He said to hold on a minute. He walked over to his workbench, got out a single razor blade, knelt down and scraped off the area covering the name my son needed to access. He didn't have to. He could easily have said "sorry it's not possible" but instead he took five minutes of his time to motion us over, find the name, scrape it off and stand by to be sure the rubbing turned out legible, unobstructed by the goo of resurfacing.
My son knows we already have a rubbing of this officer's name at home. He also knows this officer is the reason he still has a dad in this world which is why it was so important to make this rubbing with his own hands. Thank you to the man who took five minutes out of his day to allow a 13-year old boy access to Panel 6-E-21/John K Lamm (Kevin). You helped make a memory that will last a lifetime, I assure you. Thank you also for engraving these names in remembrance of all the officers who made the ultimate sacrifice.
And........thank you, Kevin. Wish you were still here.
