Remembering the Lady in the Red Vest
My reflections on January 6th, 2021
Like many Americans, I sat glued to the television watching the carnage unfolding at the United States Capitol. I could hear the police and emergency medical services vehicles rushing to the scene from my apartment a few blocks away. I could feel the collective suspense of a nation watching as a mob of fellow citizens breached the temple of our grand experiment in representative democracy. I was concerned for those police, elected officials and staffers at the scene. I was saddened that this could happen here and now. I was enraged at the cowardice of those destroying something that, despite their claims, did not belong to them. But, as the scene unfolded, and I saw domestic terrorists entering the Capitol’s rotunda, I was reminded of a woman in a red vest.
It was 2011 and my first day in Washington, D.C. I had just arrived with two suitcases to make a go of politics. I had no idea what the hell I was doing frankly. I had no job. I had no friends in the city. No idea how to get started in this the center of the political universe. So, I did what any anxious young kid would, I went out exploring. First stop on my excursion was the place I came to D.C. to find gainful employment at: The United States Capitol.
Standing in front of that great colossus of white stone set atop a hill, The Capitol didn’t look real to me. Too big, too clean, too beautiful to be tangible outside the regular glimpses I got on nightly television. As I walked inside, I couldn’t help but brush my hand against an unblemished marble colonnade in a strange reverent attempt to feel history itself.
A woman in her 70s with greyish white hair and wearing a red tour guide’s vest must have sensed my disorientation. She asked if I needed help and pretty soon I was with her and a group of other tourists queued up for a guided tour of the capitol complex. I remember how quiet everyone was as we went up the first escalator — understanding we were about to step in the footsteps of giants.
Towards the end of our tour, our guide took us to a quiet area just outside the rotunda with a large bronze plaque on the wall. And as she spoke, her voice got low and a little shaky.
“This memorial plaque honors the men and women of flight 93,” she said. “I was here that day. I was here that day, and if it wasn’t for Todd Beamer and the other passengers and crew, I wouldn’t be here with you this afternoon. They are heroes.”
Intelligence indicated that if the passengers and crew of flight 93 didn’t stand up to the terrorists on September 11th and knowingly and deliberately drive that passage jet into a field in Pennsylvania, the plane was headed for the U.S. Capitol. Along with the names of those true patriots onboard, the memorial inscription reads, “In memory of the passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 93, whose brave sacrifice on September 11, 2001, not only saved countless lives but may have saved the U.S. Capitol from destruction.”
It’s been over ten years since that day now, and I can still remember the stoic look on her face.
This weekend, I am reminded of the countless evenings spent as a young Congressional staffer sitting alone in the rotunda as rays of the setting sun spotlighted each of the Trumbull paintings in slow succession. I am reminded of all those at the Architect of the Capitol who work tirelessly to preserve our history. I am reminded of the U.S. Capitol Police who protect those hallowed halls. And I remember that first day in D.C., that tour guide, and her story.
As the Civil War waged on, Lincoln’s administration drew scrutiny from members of Congress and newspapers across the country because of construction costs for the new Capitol dome. “Why spend so much on a building when we had a war to win?” many thought. Lincoln, speaking through history to us today, stressed the importance of continuing the work, stating, “If people see the Capitol going on, it is a sign we intend the Union shall go on.”
Our Republic is not a building — it never has been. And terrorists, whether they be foreign or domestic, can’t change our history and values with violence and anarchy. It will take a whole lot more than a few broken windows to distract us from living up to the principles enshrined under that great dome.
- Philip J. Minardi | January 9th, 2021
