Most things in life slide right past us without much notice. But sometimes, we see something that we never forget.

The Liberty Bell was like that for me. I remember standing before it as a child, looking up at the bronze sculpture that was, in a very real sense, a musical instrument. As a musically inclined kid taking piano lessons, the loudest question in my mind was, “How does it sound?”

I peered underneath to see if the clapper was there, secretly wishing I could tip the bell just enough to gain some idea of how it spoke. 

Of course, with the aura of respect surrounding this historical treasure, there was no way I was going to be foolish enough to try. So I had to content myself with imagining the sound as my gaze roamed over the crack. I understood on some subtle level that the imperfection was what made this bell special. 

I could have stood there much longer. There was a feeling I had while in the presence of the bell, almost as if it were telling me its story. I wanted to linger and hear it all.

Later, my mom gave me a small replica of the Liberty Bell. It had a little clapper that produced a clear, small tone. I knew it wasn’t the sound the real bell would make, but I treasured the gift.

More than 40 years later, my family planned another trip to Philadelphia, this time for my nephew’s high school graduation. Before we left, my mom asked if there was anything else we wanted to see while we were there.

Immediately, I went looking for my little Liberty Bell. I turned everything upside down, dug through my cupboards, and went through my keepsake boxes. I was certain I had never thrown it away, but despite my efforts, I couldn't track it down. 

Disappointed, I meekly mentioned that it would be nice to see the Liberty Bell again.

A HISTORY OF LIBERTY

As a child, I didn’t know much about the bell’s history. As an adult, I was curious.

I learned it was commissioned in 1751 by the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly to hang in the new State House, now known as Independence Hall, in Philadelphia. Cast in London by the Whitechapel Bell Foundry and delivered in August 1752, it cracked during its first test and was twice recast before being hung in the steeple in June 1753.

In its early years, the Liberty Bell was a working bell that summoned lawmakers and alerted citizens. Tradition holds that it tolled for the First Continental Congress in 1774, the Battle of Lexington and Concord in 1775 and on July 8, 1776, summoned citizens to hear the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence.

According to the National Park Service, the famous crack most likely developed in the early 1840s after nearly 90 years of hard use. Metalworkers tried to restore the bell's tone, but the repair failed. A second fissure running from the abbreviation for “Philadelphia” up through the word “Liberty,” silenced the bell forever. 

A CHANCE TO RETURN

After my nephew’s graduation, Mom directed us to downtown Philadelphia.

As we stood in line at Independence National Historical Park, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Would the bell still look the same? Or would it somehow be diminished now that I was seeing it through adult eyes?

I took my time with the other historical artifacts, almost afraid to turn the corner. But eventually, I walked into the final exhibition area.

 There it was.

I was struck by the same sense of awe I’d felt as a child. This time, I also felt elated, as if I had been reunited with a long-lost friend.

I waited my turn as people from all walks of life stepped up for photos. People young and old, of all different colors and creeds. Many didn't speak English but seemed just as excited as I was to stand so close to this symbol of liberty. 

My family took photos, too. Then I had another chance to stand nearby, observe the crack, read about the repair attempts, circle around and, yes, lean low enough to see the forever-still clapper.

I knew more about the bell this time. I understood more about what it meant to our country. But interestingly enough, none of that made any difference in that moment. 

Standing near the bell, it was to me once again a powerful presence, emanating strength and wisdom, and sharing its story with me. 

A POIGNANT REUNION

Afterward, we stopped by Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776 and the U.S. Constitution was written in 1787. We visited the Pennsylvania Supreme Court Chamber, passed the Curtis Center—the grand building that once housed the Curtis Publishing Co., publisher of The Saturday Evening Post and Ladies’ Home Journal—and had lunch at P.J. Clarke’s, a replica of the New York saloon and eatery established in 1884.

Eventually, we headed back to the car. As luck would have it, there was a gift shop on the way.

I never in a million years thought I would find it. What were the odds after more than 40 years?

Then I spotted something against the back wall.

I dashed over and could hardly believe my eyes. There, stacked one on top of another in little red boxes, were several Liberty Bell replicas. They looked exactly like the one I had as a child.

I grabbed one the same size, showed my mom and, after checking to make sure it rang clearly, bought it.

Now that little bell has a prominent spot on my shelf back home.

As our country prepares to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, I think of both trips and how lucky I am that, after all these years, I returned to something I had loved as a child and found it still held its power.

Yes, the Liberty Bell is a national symbol. I understand the gravity of that. But it also taught me that some things don’t lose their magic simply because we grow older. Sometimes they meet us again after decades have passed to show us the wonder was real all along. 

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