FDR Memorial: rubbing, disabilities, & water

Last weekend, I was in Washington, D.C., doing research and visited the national mall for the first time in over a decade. I'm uploading some images from the FDR Memorial for several reasons. I'll mention only a few of the more obvious ones here.
First, to touch on previous posts, there were rubbings. More than any other memorial on the mall, the metal statues at this memorial belie contact: with FDR's shoulders, hands, etc., in and out of his wheelchair, with his dog's ears, with symbolic statues of people standing in line during the Depression, and so forth. I've included two pictures of the rubbings evident from the space dedicated to people with disabilities, which leads to a second reason to share these images for discussion.
This week in the IU seminar, we're discussing a series of essays and chapters on embodiment and technology. One is a chapter from Susan Wendell on how movements (like ours?) to embrace bodies and embodiment is a privilege of those of us who are more able-bodied; in a sense, she is attempting to recover the desire to escape one's body for those who live with disabilities, if it is desired. I think her challenge is an interesting one to consider coming out of readings about torture and bodies in physical pain. Do any of you feel we/you/I are in danger of romanticizing bodies in our pursuit of studying them/us?
Finally, I'm also uploading an image of a waterfall; throughout the FDR memorial (and the WWII memorial), in addition to stone and metal, water plays an integral role in the rhetorical experience constructed for visitors...hearing water fall...seeing water reflect images...why is water such an essential element to so many of our more tender, daily, essential, and valued embodied experiences? Why do so many of us love to vacation near (and in) oceans and lakes and bays? What rhetorical role does water have for our embodied relationship to mourning?