September 11, 2006, Ground Zero, New York City.
On this day, five years ago, two aircraft crashed into the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Another struck the Pentagon. Still another, possibly headed for the White House, fell to earth in Pennsylvania when the passengers overwhelmed the hijackers. These events, all within a couple of hours of each other, killed 3,000 innocent people and sent America down a turbulent road.
Five years after that day I had to finally go to the city. Five years ago we were all glued to the televisions, or if you were in New York watched in horror as great clouds of dark gray dust rose up from where the twin towers had been. I had to go to Ground Zero. So much emotion and political leveraging and war and foreign policy had transpired since September 11, 2001 that has affected all of our daily lives that I needed to touch the source.
Ground zero is a hole in the ground. A great rectangular space many stories deep that was the foundation for 20 percent of New York City’s office space. It used to hold a unique community of people that held a special vibrancy in the city. It was a Mecca for business; it was a gathering place for the international sphere of people who came to New York. It was where men and women worked every day with pictures of their loved ones on their desks.
I met up with my friend Scott Quitel and we took the ferry from Port Imperial across the Hudson River into the city. The gaping maw where the buildings once resided is like a living wound in the city. The dust has been cleaned up. The debris is largely gone. Yet in that cavernous hole are tunnels opened to the empty space, there are concrete stairways that end in the sky, there are broken pipes and service lines that once gave the twin towers water and electricity.
There are people everywhere. On this day tens of thousands of people were drawn to Ground Zero. People are polite – “Oh, excuse me,†I say to a man I accidentally bump into.
“Oh, that’s alright,†he says, and touches my arm. He has a button on his lapel with a picture of a woman and the words ‘I miss you’.
There is a man leaning into the fence that surrounds Ground Zero. He is crying. He has put a rose through the chain links, and mutters something quietly to himself. People are respectful; one woman touches his shoulder as she passes. I feel emotion welling within me.
There are many flowers placed along the fence or put in the chain link spaces, some with photographs, some with mementos. This was a community within a community. I am staring at one photo. A middle-aged woman is standing next to me. “I was a guide on the observation deck,†she said. “The building would sway in the wind. It would sway like it was alive.â€
And I see a wall of pages of children’s drawings, and messages: “To my dad, Steven Chucknick, you’re in my heart for ever, love always your son Steven.†And “I love you daddy.â€Â And “We miss you daddy, love Christopher.â€Â And “I remember riding on my daddy’s shoulders,†Maggie Murphy age 4. And “My daddy is on top of the rainbow, love Carter.â€
There is a memorial building now next to the fire station across from Ground Zero. There, within this small space, are photographs of the missing people. They are beautiful smiling people; photos of a couple at their marriage, photos of a graduation, of a picnic, of a day at the beach with the family, of a young man playing guitar. There are items the clean-up crews found in the rubble over the years: keys, a bent police badge, twisted silverware, a shoe, cell phones, buttons from the elevators, a pair of scissors. There is a dusty, damaged teddy bear. And at the end of the hallway is a twisted steel girder from the building itself. There is a window frame from one of the aircraft that crashed into the towers. There is a broken fireman’s helmet – badge number 288. I feel tears rolling down my face.
I think of the rhetoric and debate and divisiveness in America that was spawned from the politics following September 11, 2001. Far across America many wonder about the reason for the wars America has fallen into as the number of dead service men and women approaches the number of dead on that fateful day. I wonder if this perilous road we are going down will lead to greater tragedies or miracle solutions. The debate is well known and will not subside. But as I look into the eyes of these people I have a renewed sense of pride in humanity, and an understanding of the tremendous emotions that have been laid bare in our country because of this catastrophe. And at this moment those debates do not matter, I just feel grief and pride, loss and hope.
And there are quotes from the eyewitnesses and the rescuers and the survivors…
“I knew that Terry would have been on one of the highest floors, that’s just what Rescue 1 would do. When the building came down, I grabbed the dust on the ground and thought he’s in this dust.†Recalled Beth Petrone Hatton, wife of Captain Terry Hatton FDNY.
“There is unbelievable shaking. It’s that kind of boom, boom, boom in a loud succession…the sound of massive steel beams twisting around you like they were twist ties on a loaf of bread…a painfully loud screech of steel all around us.â€Â Said Captain Jay Jonas, FDNY who was trapped in stairwell B North Tower with 13 others through that afternoon.
And then my friend Scott notices one of the photos. “Oh my God,†he says softly, “This man is a friend of my wife’s, she went to school with him.â€Â The photo is of Peter Keith Ortale who was on the 84th floor of Tower Number 2 and worked with Euro Brokers.
And then Scott and I notice there is a quote from someone also on that floor. It is from Jerry Banks, also with Euro Brokers, and reads, “As I’m looking up I saw flames, people jumping, and I’m screaming, ‘Mr. Marrero, you and those people got to get out of there! And he says to me, ‘No, I have injured people up here. I can’t leave.’ â€
The man next to me is in one of the pictures on the wall. He looks at me. “That’s me, there. That was the end of the world. That’s what we thought.â€
And I called my daughter Madeleine, and my son Matthew. I needed to tell them I loved them because the weight of this place causes me to feel the humanity that was here. The humanity that was lost. I know we must rise to great heights of love and ethics and responsibility to recover from this and discover a new era for our children. As I walk away from Ground Zero late in the day on September 11 I feel my own urgent sense of responsibility to help with this discovery.