No one can express verbally as well as my friend Andrew Giangola, living in downtown NY on 9/11, can. His gift of language leaves me speechless at times. Please take a moment to read and share his memory of the horrific day. Had our God in heaven ever blessed us with a more beautiful day than 13 years ago today? Then the planes hit. At 8:46 am, three blocks from impact, my wife was dropping our daughter Gaby at first grade. People in the top floors are throwing furniture out the windows, Viviane would recount. She wasnt wearing her glasses. Those werent sofas. Bodies were free falling. It was a painful, absolutely horrific time. So many families lost so much. The one silver lining (a term I hate) was how New Yorkers -- and our city -- instantly changed. This anonymous, crowded, sharp-elbowed bustling place suddenly became gentle. We genuinely cared for one another. We witnessed innumerable acts of kindness. We couldnt articulate it, we certainly didnt choose it, but each of us had fundamentally acknowledged our mutual humanity. If you rode the subways, you know. The citys entire vibe had gone Midwestern. No matter where you lived, we were all New Yorkers: On the same team. Common creatures, proud and angry, reeling in devastation and terrible hurt and above all, deep down, terrified to the bone. In those dire straits, when your world has been irrevocably changed, you dont cope by yourself. We needed one another. And we acted the part. We were nicer, more polite. We slowed down a step or two. We became Dr. Seuss characters. Skin color didnt matter. Cops were on a pedestal. The Mayor was our Savior, rock and unquestioned leader The mean streets became avenues of utopia. The pile still burned (it smelled like burning computers thrown on a human barbecue) but our patented brusque coarseness was refined and buffed to a Mayberry-like folksy softness. The months wore on. The bagpipes faded. A war commenced to satisfy our desire to lash out just as we were attacked. And nearly imperceptibly, the respectful, loving metropolis that New York had implausibly become slowly began to fade away. And here we are today -- an us-against-them City. But them isnt a raging fanatic in a cave. Its the young cop, the kid whose pants are falling down his backside. Our great differences are politicized. Rancor rules. Theres no time to be polite. Are you kidding me? Im walkin here! The Opportunity of 9.11 has been squandered. A Silver Lining has turned jet black. Finally, 13 years after the planes, the ground zero Museum is up and running. You can get your 9.11 T-shirt. But our improbable brotherhood aint for sale. Its been permanently lost.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 11:08:49 +0000
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