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Seven years ago today, I watched as what was then my city had its heart ripped out of it and nearly 3,000 people were killed there and elsewhere by a handful of angry, fanatical Middle Eastern men. Today, I sit in what has become my new city, several hundred miles to the south, and contemplate that day and what has happened—and what has not—in the intervening time.
A part of me will always remain in New York, NY, in no small measure because of all the friends I have there...and because of what happened there on a clear early-autumn morning while I watched in shock and horror. I still remember the frantic messages back and forth on the Net and phones that day, trying to verify that all whom we cared about were safe. I also still feel a frisson of chill down my spine knowing that, but for the vagaries of fate and temporary employment, I might well have been in that square mile working that morning. As it was, I sat in my apartment in Queens, just across the river, and whispered, "Jesus Christ, NO!!!" as first the north, then the south tower fell. And I remember how God-awful hard it was to come to terms with the realization that what I was watching was utterly, terrifyingly real—not some special-effects-laden movie or TV series, with a miniature World Trade Center being toppled as a Panavision camera filmed it in slow motion. This was emphatically not fiction.
Today, our ports and nuclear plants are no safer than they were then, and our airlines only marginally so. The man who organized and headed the group that plotted and carried out this obscenity remains at large, and his group has new bases in the mountains of Iraq and Afghanistan. And the only reason we have gone so long without another such assault, despite what conservatives and Republicans will insist, is not because our supposedly stalwart leaders have taken steps, but rather because we have enjoyed a stupendously good run of luck. And the area known as Ground Zero, where I used to labor sometimes, has had minimal progress in rebuilding at best.
Today, religious ceremonies are being held. Bells are being rung, and names are being read. And this is as it should be. The two major political parties' presidential candidates, while restraining themselves admirably as they visit the site itself, have not let pass the opportunity to speak elsewhere and attempt to turn the solemn occasion to their advantage. Nor do I have a problem with that, as crass and tacky as it may seem; robust political debate is at the heart of what America the nation is, and of who we Americans are. And today is a very good day to remember what it means to be an American.
I am not going to tell you how you should observe this day...except perhaps, to spare a moment of thought and silence for the dead. (And to say "thank you" to the families of those lost on United Airlines Flight 93, for their loved ones having saved the lives of still more—including some more of my friends—in the DC area.) And I suspect that is not something you need to be noodged into doing anyhow. But after today, let us remove whatever roadblocks remain to finishing the rebuilding...and then, let us come together as one people and choose leaders who will help us to rebuild the part of our country and ourselves that is not made of bricks and steel and concrete, that still remains torn and broken from this atrocity.
A part of me will always remain in New York, NY, in no small measure because of all the friends I have there...and because of what happened there on a clear early-autumn morning while I watched in shock and horror. I still remember the frantic messages back and forth on the Net and phones that day, trying to verify that all whom we cared about were safe. I also still feel a frisson of chill down my spine knowing that, but for the vagaries of fate and temporary employment, I might well have been in that square mile working that morning. As it was, I sat in my apartment in Queens, just across the river, and whispered, "Jesus Christ, NO!!!" as first the north, then the south tower fell. And I remember how God-awful hard it was to come to terms with the realization that what I was watching was utterly, terrifyingly real—not some special-effects-laden movie or TV series, with a miniature World Trade Center being toppled as a Panavision camera filmed it in slow motion. This was emphatically not fiction.
Today, our ports and nuclear plants are no safer than they were then, and our airlines only marginally so. The man who organized and headed the group that plotted and carried out this obscenity remains at large, and his group has new bases in the mountains of Iraq and Afghanistan. And the only reason we have gone so long without another such assault, despite what conservatives and Republicans will insist, is not because our supposedly stalwart leaders have taken steps, but rather because we have enjoyed a stupendously good run of luck. And the area known as Ground Zero, where I used to labor sometimes, has had minimal progress in rebuilding at best.
Today, religious ceremonies are being held. Bells are being rung, and names are being read. And this is as it should be. The two major political parties' presidential candidates, while restraining themselves admirably as they visit the site itself, have not let pass the opportunity to speak elsewhere and attempt to turn the solemn occasion to their advantage. Nor do I have a problem with that, as crass and tacky as it may seem; robust political debate is at the heart of what America the nation is, and of who we Americans are. And today is a very good day to remember what it means to be an American.
I am not going to tell you how you should observe this day...except perhaps, to spare a moment of thought and silence for the dead. (And to say "thank you" to the families of those lost on United Airlines Flight 93, for their loved ones having saved the lives of still more—including some more of my friends—in the DC area.) And I suspect that is not something you need to be noodged into doing anyhow. But after today, let us remove whatever roadblocks remain to finishing the rebuilding...and then, let us come together as one people and choose leaders who will help us to rebuild the part of our country and ourselves that is not made of bricks and steel and concrete, that still remains torn and broken from this atrocity.
