From this distance, we could feel the tension as people gathered to commemorate the ninth anniversary of 9/11 around Ground Zero last Friday. It didn't help that the Reverend Terry Jones of Florida canceled his plan to burn copies of the Holy Quran to protest the proposal to build a mosque a few blocks away.
9/11 was front page stuff in America around that date with accompanying pictures of the burning Twin Towers, the twin commemorative lights, American flags and other evocative memorials.
The 9/12 Newsday front page spread of a single rosebud below reminds us of a similar picture we took at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC in the late 1990s. There is always a rose to tuck on the grave of the dear departed as a message of love and peace in times of war or peace.
That day nine years ago, we were set to go buy a discounted ticket for the Broadway play 'The Producer' at the Tkts booth at the World Trade Center. We were having coffee in Queens when we saw on TV the burning tower after the first plane struck. We knew there was something deliberate and sinister when the second plane hit the next tower. All hell broke loose in the house when the towers came down; there was weeping since there could be friends who got trapped there and perished.
The trains stood still, and there was no way for us to go to Lower Manhattan. We could only watch the anguish of the city and America on TV all throughout the day. Pretty soon, we were checking with Amtrak if we can escape from New York, and yes, the trains would be running the next day.
It was a long trip to Boston. From the windows of the train as it exited to New Jersey from Upper Manhattan, we could see the smoke and/or dust cloud still rising from the smouldering rubble of the twin towers. And then before we reach Providence in Rhode Island, the train stopped on its tracks, still far off the station. There's some technical problem, we were told every now and then. But we knew what was happening from the mobile phones: the world outside our train was telling us that another train bound for New York had been stopped in Providence to ferret out terrorist suspects who could be on board.
We had lunch at the WTC the day before, and we had fun watching tourists getting their souvenir shots with the twin towers in the background. We could imagine how the two young Frenchmen would be telling about their great effort to capture the entirety of the tallest structures at that time and with them, even if a bit distorted as they took turns lying down to shoot, in the picture. We guess those pictures are very much treasured now, and had been passed around each time they reminisce about their last look of the WTC.
Ten years earlier, we spent six months at the 89th floor of the second tower studying health physics and radiation exposure management with EBASCO in preparation for the operation of the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant (BNPP). Everyday we commuted via the A train from 132nd W to Cortland at the foot of the towers. We got on the express elevator to the 64th floor, and boarded another one for the 89th, and these rides took just a few minutes.
In our mind, we still see the large tapestry hanging at the lobby, at our back when we get on the elevator. It was created by Joan Miro in 1974, who had to learn to weave to do it. We're digging up our photo files because we know there is at least a couple of shots we took of one of works of art that perished on 9/11.
We had our back to the glass window. It was not because we had fear of heights; in fact, we enjoyed looking at the top of other skyscrapers and the ant-like movement of people on the streets far and wide. What got us was that the towers swayed on windy days. We could see the vertical steel frames of the tower windows swinging when viewed against the neighboring tall buildings.
We'd remember the towers for one other reason. We almost won the city lotto bought from one of the magazine stalls at the basement there, and we were sleepless for days because we missed one number. Sad to tell, nobody told me--not even the Pinoys who have been New Yorkers for years--that yes, there is money in five numbers.
No comments:
Post a Comment