Thursday, September 11, 2008
Every year, we watch as the names are spoken only five miles away. We remember that day when our world turned dark and silent and feel for the families of the innocent people who were too suddenly lost. The sadness, seven years later is worse than ever, in a still aimless world, thinking about where these sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and friends might be today, had their lives not been cut short in such a horrific and senseless way.
Each year I call my friend, who I was working with at the time as we walked back the 50 blocks up Central Park West, on that clear day, away from work, away from the sights we saw as we stared down sixth avenue all the way downtown in disbelief and home, finally, to find Jim who hadn't gone to work as he might have. He was to take photos at Windows on the World that morning in preparation for a job there later in the month but he couldn't do it until later that day he was told, because there was a breakfast meeting.
I always think of that breakfast meeting and feel so many things at once. Everyone has their own story.
A week after September 11th, 2001, in a car late at night on the 59th Street Bridge, we looked at the Manhattan skyline in silence. Our friend Ed, in the car with us said, "it's like the moon is gone".
On this particularly sad day in American history, I extend my love and condolences to all who have lost their moon, their stars, their loved ones.
at 11:22 AM