On Fridays I like to post a photo on the blog. Something you might like to see me working on or something to laugh about. I had planned to post a picture of the watercolor I did on that beach day this week. Then I thought to post the new painting I started yesterday when I realized that tomorrow is the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on our city.
I hunted through my photographs, mind you that was not an easy task since most of my photos are NOT in books. I know, bad girl. Anyway, I took this photo of the twin towers of the World Trade Center during the summer of 1990. Our boys were young and my husband and I decided to visit lower Manhattan for the day. We took a Skyline Tour on a boat around the city. It was a beautiful sunny day and I remember lending other tourists my sunscreen.
How can we ignore what happened in our city? Now that I’m blogging I could not ignore the date. The pain is still there, just under the surface. A news article, a documentary on television, and I’m right there again. The sadness, the shock, the lost people, right back in the moment.
Nine years ago tomorrow. September 11, 2001 I was at home on Long Island getting ready for my day. I had an appointment, my father was in the hospital, the sons were at college and freshman year of high school, The Mr. at work, my mom also, and my sister was in Manhattan. Son#1 called to say something is happening, he heard it on the Howard Stern radio show and thought it was a joke. I turned on my TV and watched the towers being hit in a matter of minutes. I told Son #1 that this is a terrorist attack on New York City, maybe the whole country.
Frantically I phoned my sister and she answered her cell phone just as she was driving out of the city over the Triborough Bridge to Queens. Later that day all access to and from Manhattan would be shut down. Thankful she was safe I went about my day, to my appointment and the hospital. Cell phones were the only means of communication until later that day.
On the car radio I heard the reporters say one tower was collapsing. I switched the radio off. I switched it back on. And the second tower went down.
Three thousand regular people lost their lives for no good reason that day. 3000. Regular people going to work, or school. Regular every day people became murder victims and other regular every day people became heroes. People just working. 3000 regular people. Buildings, offices, homes, churches, schools, museums, restaurants, regular every day people living in that densely packed city.
The people who piloted those planes into office buildings believe that anyone not of their religion is an infidel and must be conquered. Say what you want, but that’s the truth of it. Greeks know it, the Armenians and Assyrians know it, and others do too. It’s not our wealth, prosperity, or life style. It’s because other religions are beneath theirs. Only theirs is the true faith. Others are the dirty infidel dogs. This is nothing new and has been going on for centuries. Their religion says they must conquer and bring down the infidel.
Fight or flight set in after the shock of such an event. In the moment of that quick, sharp inhale of breath the mind is set at a tilt, but thankful knowing my family was safe. How? Why? Who? In the nine years since the attacks sad things happened here, but happy things happened too. As time passed the distance grew between the events allowing life to continue to go on.
As I prepared my photo for Friday there was no way I could ignore the date.
