The acts of war committed against the United States on Sep. 11, 2001 have caused great pain and suffering for New Yorkers and people throughout our nation and the world. These types of acts will not be accepted by us. Terrorists may be able to destroy the foundations of our greatest buildings, but they can never topple America.

Posted on Wed, Oct. 30, 2002

KAREN HERSHENSON: TIMES COLUMNIST

Paying homage comes naturally

THE TWIN TOWERS Memorial Park is in fall mode now, bursts of orange and yellow, with splashes of hot pink.

Bill Richmond began transforming this barren weed patch on Camelback Road in Pleasant Hill months ago, one plant for each person who died in the Sept. 11 attacks.

Nothing official about it, just a spontaneous expression, equal parts sorrow and hope. A former Marine's tribute to all those lives lost.

It might seem like an isolated gesture, but the amazing thing about human experience is how common it can be. The impulse that drives Richmond to labor in his garden for hours every day has fired up other Americans.

New Yorker Bianca Bob sprinkled 6,000 sunflower seeds at ground zero and beyond, tucking them into planter boxes and vacant lots. By the 9-11 anniversary, her living homage was in brilliant bloom, just like Richmond's garden.

In Seattle, a memorial garden grows from compost made from the million flowers left at a downtown fountain.

At Liberty State Park, used as a triage center after the bombings, a grove of 691 native New Jersey trees takes root, one for every person lost from that state.

Dozens of others have sprung up in cities from coast to coast, all created by people who turned to nature for solace after that horrifying day. The Forest Service is trying to track them all down for its Living Memorials Project.

Manager Lindsay Campbell phoned the Times in search of Richmond, hoping to include him on their Web site (www.livingmemorialsproject.org). Along with cataloguing community gardens and groves, the Forest Service has allocated about $1 million in grants, and plans a book with photographs and personal stories.

They should get an earful. Richmond tells of a homeless man who insisted on donating $5. One woman passed by for three months before finally stopping and sharing her battle with cancer and her husband's death.

The garden, she told him, "is the joy of my life."

Others have dropped off a wheelbarrow, or weed killer, or favorite clippings. A horticulturist from nearby Diablo Valley College gave him a prized "fried-egg" poppy that grows 6 feet tall, with a  large snow-white bloom and bright yellow center.

"They say there's a million stories in the city; well, there's 2 million stories in my sandlot," says Richmond.

But for all he has given to the community -- the City Council recently declared Oct. 21 "Bill Richmond Day" -- the man holds tight to a rebel streak. He doesn't want any fussy benches, or plaques, or sculptures.

"I just don't want a lot of bureaucratic baloney," he says. "I don't want anybody jumping in here and telling me what to do."

Sometimes he senses the presence of those who perished. It was for those 3,000 that he put such an eclectic mix of flowers and plants into the ground, to represent their different personalities.

"I answer only to the souls and spirits of those who died," he says. "You just feel that they're there. Sometimes out of the corner of my eye, something moves. ... I wonder."

Monuments thrust us back into our sorrow. But gardens are, as one volunteer put it, an act of faith -- that someone will be there to care for them.

Like nothing else, these living memorials are testaments to the future.

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Reach Karen Hershenson at 925-943-8252, or khershen@cctimes.com.