September 11

Where does one even begin? So much has happened in the past five years politically that this day has taken on a second meaning for me. But I've covered that already. Being at the World Trade Center that morning, I saw things I wish would never have to experienced by anyone in this world ever again. In a perfect world, the cycle of violence would not continue. But the world is not perfect. I honor those we lost that morning not only in New York but in Pennsylvania and the Pentagon too, those who now suffer from illness because of their rescue efforts afterward, and all those anywhere who have died since in related conflicts.

Most vivid in my mind is staring up at the flaming hole in a tower that had been ubiquitous in our skyline, a firefighter telling me to leave the building as I stared out in the debris-covered Trade Center courtyard, flaming plane and office debris hurtling through the air after the second plane plowed through the tower, and the horrifying sound of people hitting concrete who had lept 90+ floors to their death in fear. I also remember, as I humorously recall to my friends, the two bagel stand guys down in the concourse below the Trade Center debating whether they needed the boss' permission to close up and leave, right after the first plane hit, back when no one was really sure what was going on. I remember as well, minutes after the second tower was hit, standing several blocks away down Church Street and pondering the political implications of what was happening around me. I was walking uptown, at about 21st and 1st avenue, when the first tower fell.

What I also remember- and what I will choose to focus on as I recall that day- are the spontaneous acts of human kindness and compassion that I saw all around Manhattan that day. New Yorkers had always endured a reputation as gruff, antisocial people who would just as soon steal your watch as give you time of day. 9/11 dispelled that myth. I saw with my own eyes that day strangers hugging strangers, firetrucks and ambulances being applauded as they sped by, and people lined up so deep to donate blood that hospitals actually had to turn people away. We were united- not just New York, but America, and the world.

Of course, later that day, I saw my first sign that such peace and unity was not to last. Waiting on line at a supermarket that evening with a friend of mine of Indian descent, a man behind us on line tapped her shoulder. "Are you from over there?", he asked angrily. We said nothing and paid for our purchases and left. She cried the whole way home. I knew the backlash to what had happened that day would not be pleasant.

That night we walked downtown, past the candlelight vigils in Union Square down toward St. Mark's Place. There I was returned to the unity and peace that I will remember as my reflection on that day. Everyone was quiet, deep in serious conservations or in silent reflection. I saw more strangers hugging strangers that night. And makeshift memorials all over town. It was uplifting.

That is what I am going to focus on this morning. I hope you will too.