story8108.xml

story8108.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-24

Submitted by: vicky lacy
From: London, England


It is mid September, 2001 and I have just returned from New York to London, having spent a week or so with my brother in Brooklyn. I?d had a strong compulsion to go and see for myself the utter destruction at Ground Zero - not for any sick, voyeuristic reasons, but because I wanted to experience and grieve with fellow Americans and feel part of it. Over here in England (where I have lived for the past 30 years) I had watched the atrocities live on TV, and having been born in New York, I felt a strong compulsion to get there as quickly as possible. So I booked the first flight I could get, much to the amazement of friends and family who thought I was ?taking a chance? by flying so soon after the hijacks.

Anyway, my adventures in Manhattan were, to say the least, worth it to me if not to anyone else. My brother and sister-in-law and all of their friends who live in New York could not bring themselves to go down to Lower Manhattan which I fully understand. It is their territory and they know it so well, so the thought of seeing it as it is today is quite honestly too painful. I, on the other hand, am not very familiar with downtown Manhattan and so there was less nostalgia involved. It does not mean I was not affected, quite the contrary. It made an enormous impact on me and strengthened my feelings about the city I was born in. It also made me even more aware of the delicate line we all face between life and death. If a strong city like New York can be reduced to rubble, it makes it even more likely that other cities could experience the same fate. London is possibly the next sitting target for terrorism in whatever form it may come.

For many years, I had suffered from panic attacks. My journey down to Ground Zero completely by myself was a major accomplishment for me - considering that not long ago I couldn't even sit through Mrs. Doubtfire in the cinema for more than 2 minutes, or wait in a supermarket queue.

Here is the description of my journey down to Ground Zero
(or "The Pit" as New Yorkers now call it)

The day was hot and sticky - around 88 degrees, with a pure blue sky. I wandered down to Canal Street which was the furthest point which the general public were allowed to venture in Lower Manhattan. It is about 8 blocks from Ground Zero - far enough away for safety. For some reason, I have always had the knack of persuading people to let me do what I want and this was no exception. I befriended a "Cop" who escorted me through the metal barricade and endless groups of soldiers and police, saying I was "OK for entry". Why he let me through and no one else, I will never know, but I am grateful to him nonetheless.

When I approached the first sight of the disaster site, my heart skipped a beat and for a second or two had warning signs of one of my panic attacks. But the horrific sight was so much more important than thoughts of my stupid panic attacks that I carried on regardless. With each step I took, the more visible was the carnage. Acrid smoke was still thick in the air even after 8 days, and occasionally when the wind shifted I got a whiff of decomposing flesh.

I had borrowed a camera and found that it was broken so I went into a Photo shop to buy a disposable camera. The shop was directly across the street from the disaster site and the display window was broken and covered in dust. That did not stop them from opening their shop to the public (most of whom were press, public officials and local residents) I later found out that the owner of the shop had been killed by flying debris and his employees were trying to raise money for his family by selling what they could from the shop.

Block after block I saw damaged buildings, covered in thick dust and broken windows. Once these buildings were shiny and majestic, reaching for the sky. Now they looked like abandoned warehouses in a diabolical slum area. One building which must have been about 70 stories high had an enormous chunk taken out of its side, like a giant had taken a bite out of it. Another building had about 10 of its top stories hanging down like Spanish Moss on a willow tree. Shops still had their merchandise laid out neatly ready to be bought by the public, only everything was covered in about 5 inches of white dust and would never be sold to a soul. It was eerie beyond belief. These shops were like ghost houses.

The actual epicentre of where the World Trade Centre had been was so much larger than the TV and photographs could show. It was never-ending, block after block after block after block. The rubble was almost as high as an average sized building, and smoke was still escaping out of scattered pockets. Fire engines, cranes, police cars, red cross vans, heavy duty transport lorries, ambulances and army vehicles filled the streets. It truly had the look of a war zone. Tired and dusty rescuers consisting of firemen (first and foremost), police, and medics came and went constantly from the recovery site. Many were being interviewed by the press as they left the area to go home, having worked for up to 20 hours at a stretch. But in spite of their exhaustion and sadness, they had incredible spirits. In fact, I was surprised at the almost happy-go-lucky comradery of all these brave heroes. It is true that at times like this (and during the Blitz in London for example), that people get a certain strength from sticking together in the most horrific circumstances. It is almost as if each individual heart and soul of these people melts into one enormous heart and soul and they become as one. I definitely felt it myself.

Within half a block of where the Trade Centre once stood is the oldest church in New York. There is a peaceful graveyard surrounding it with beautiful trees and singing birds. It is only one storey high with a steeple and it used to look totally out of place with its backdrop of modern skyscrapers. There is a space behind it where the Towers used to be which stares out at you like a sore thumb. Now the church somehow is not out of place. In fact, it looks like it was meant to be there all along - to remind us that there are more important things on earth for us to think about apart from war and destruction.

I think everyone in the civilized world has shed a tear over the atrocities of September 11 and whether they have had personal experiences or not, their hearts have gone out to everyone who has.