Never Forget

After a morning glued to the TV, I spent the afternoon of 9/11 wandering aimlessly around Upper Manhattan, like a zombie, like most folk. Late in the day I walked past the Armory in my neighborhood and discovered the steelworkers were being mobilised there under the auspices of the National Guard. I asked if they needed any volunteers – I fudged about a construction background and they took me on. I was young and strong and that was good enough. I spent the better part of a week at Ground Zero on bucket duty, moving heavy rubble by hand from spots that they couldn’t get heavy machinery into, or it would have been unwise to do so because of potentially damaging something forensic. It was a massive undertaking and I saw things I can’t unsee. Forensic personnel were being called here, there and everywhere. Alarms would ring where you’d have to hot foot it to a safe area in case part of one of the surrounding buildings might fall. It’s all come flooding back today.

The logo in the pic is from a shirt that was handed out to us the first day as we were leaving. I wore it every day down there after. I didn’t wash it, not for weeks after. It held onto the smell of my own sweat as well as that acrid smell that was more than the scent of just simply something burnt – anyone in NYC and the surrounding area got a whiff of that smell at some point depending on the winds. I finally washed the shirt and wore it often. When it finally wore out, I was then living in Ireland. Aileen snipped the logo out for me, and we cut the rest of the shirt into ribbons, which we then tied onto a remembrance tree in a beautiful garden dedicated to St. Brigid, one of Ireland’s patron saints who my late mother was very fond of. Mom was a CSW and she volunteered too – she was bereavement support for families showing up at Ground Zero just looking for some sort of closure. Hard, emotional work. Mom actually suffered respiratory difficulty because of her time at Ground Zero but that’s another discussion.

The letter is from the Department of the Army thanking me for my effort. It’s as crisp as the day it first came out of the envelope. Not many things I own can you say that about. Receiving that letter in December 2001 marked a bit of closure for me. I had gone through weeks and months of sleepless nights and often found myself wandering down to the Ground Zero vicinity at all hours, just to stand there. When I got that letter, I just sort of stopped.

As a child growing up in NYC in the late 60s/early 70s, two massive events impacted my young psyche: the birth of Patty Cake the baby gorilla in the Central Park Zoo and the building of the Twin Towers. I was obsessed with both. We lived near Central Park so I got to see Patty Cake often. My Dad was an engineer so he would explain to me the various stages of the Twin Tower building process. Then Dad managed one of the great surprises of my life when he snagged tickets to the viewing deck the first week the World Trade Center opened. I’ll never forget it. I might as well have been a young astronaut going to the moon that day. Watching those towers fall years later was like having a piece of my very essence ripped out. I know I’m not alone in that sentiment, and I say that with the utmost respect to all the souls lost that day, some of them friends. They and all the first responders, and the families impacted, have my heartfelt love and good thoughts.

There is nothing good about that day, but it did bring out the very best of New York. I think our gruff reputation was always a bit exaggerated, but I think we did become a bit kinder and gentler as a result. I particularly remember the next summer when we had a major blackout. Nobody was in the mood for any more bad vibes so the entire city largely took it in stride and made the best of it. People were outside communing by candlelight and flashlights, playing music on boom boxes or whatever instruments they owned. My local was even handing out free beer.

So in addition to remembering all those lost, I’d like to remember that spirit of NYC at its best. I wish I were back there today to soak it up.