The LIberty Bell

On the day I visited the Liberty Bell the line was long. Children tugged at the sleeves of their adults and any glass from the hip down was smeary and licked on. Together, we zigzagged through the exhibit and read the pleasant, straightforward historical markers. They read of how the bell symbolizes an undoing of injustice in the US and how it is 'remarkably celebrated' by other nations as a symbol of peace and good will- being that it was cracked in the fit of passion. 

The park ranger was good at his spiel and dodging pictures. He proclaimed: “Last rung on February 23, 1846, George Washington’s birthday!” 

The bell was silent and protected. 

I stopped and watched it for a while, in case there was something profound and patriotic to feel; deep rooted in history- echoing through time. Instead, I wondered how many people since have looked at that bell, liberty unextended to them, and thought about their cause?

Then I considered that maybe it already has rung for all of us, and all of them, for all of time since and the movements within- when it rung before, as the inscription indicates.

But that’s a little too gooey, and too cushy, like being protected by a park ranger. Or being a bell with your own big room. Even if the worth of independence or justice could be meaningfully emphasized by a colonial artifact- even if other nations really do value it, even if it really did ring for us all originally- in my opinion, it could still use some breaking.   

If only just the silence.

April 26th, 2019