story895.xml
Title
story895.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-07-16
911DA Story: Story
9/15/01 The vigil
On Friday night our neighborhood lit candles for the people who are missing in the World Trade Center tragedy. It started small...Kenny and I and the baby went downstairs with a little white votive candle in a glass cup. We met Daniel and Caren on the way down; we found out that Caren worked in the WTC (or was it in 5 or 7?) and was a little late to work on Tuesday; when her train reached Cortland St. instead of stopping it went on to Rector St. As she got to the street she saw the first tower in flames and then saw plane crash into the second tower. She ran down the street; I think she said that a fireman or someone pulled her into a doorway to cover her from the debris; then she ran further east and got onto a train uptown. I?ve heard so many stories now, I?m confused what happened to whom, sorry. I should knock on her door tomorrow, it seems that people are feeling even worse now that the enormity of it all, how close they came, begins to sink in. Caren said that she?d been feeling sick all week, and she looked puffy and not put together; usually she has such a great sense of style...
Anyway soon two women who live in Dennis? old apartment came down, then Maggie who lives with Misia and then Karen T. We all had candles and lit them. Across the street at the musicians? building there were some people with candles; it was just beginnng to get dark so we could still see each other but the little glows of the candles across the street shone more brightly for being under those thick trees that fill with white blooms in the spring.
Looking down Claremont Ave we saw people in front of the next building, one of the several our landlord is renovating and we have been comiserating with some of the tenants who are now suffering what we have gone through. Soon it became clear that people were moving up the block, beginning to walk with their candles; some who looked like students; Latina mothers and their kids; a prof kenny knows from Rutgers and his family. We followed them around the corner to Broadway. There on the corner we gathered for a while, while the mostly empty trains passed overhead, bored conductors looking on with surprise. Some people carried flags -- one young man had a big flag like someone leading a parade might carry, but with a shorter pole so it washed through the crowd at eye level. Someone started singing and then we all joined in as we could; we did God Bless America; the Star Spangled Banner, and Oh Beautiful. I don?t like these songs, usually, or their nationalist meaning (well Oh beautiful is ok, at least it?s about natural beauty of this land). But this night I could hardly get the words out thinking of all those people lost in an instant never knowing what was happening or having a chance to say goodbye to the people they love. And also thinking about this gathering, how extraordinary for this whole mixed up neighborhood to be doing something all together, any simmering resentments or prejudices or misunderstandings or blindnesses ignored, insignificant for now: students paying exhorbitant rents for crowded shares in shoddily renovated apartments; older folks who have seen waves of us come and go, some with children and grandchildren and great grandchildren on the block or even the same building by now; the family who works in the laundry and parks their lawn chairs on the corner, smoking and hanging out with their kids all the summer nights; musicians who settled in after attending the music school down the street; the guys with the african talking drums who played at the demos to fight the eviction of the roti restaurant and the old lady over on tiemann place ...
Karen T and I caught up on our news and what we had heard while Kenny carried baby Leo on his shoulders and mingled with his friend the professor and others, too, I guess; lost track of Caren and Daniel, maybe it was too much for them. But there were a lot of people now, still coming down from Claremont and from Broadway and maybe even from Morningside Gardens and the Grant Projects. We started moving up Broadway again; past the Chinese and African Restaurants, the newly expanded laundry, Thrifty?s supermarket ( I still miss Angel Sr and Jr); the other remaining bodega. We stopped again in front of Toast, the new yuppie restaurant bar (yummie portobello mushroom sandwiches and strong coffee), now maybe a hundred people crowding around, on the other side too in front of the new pizza place and the Chinese takeout and African art and frame store all the way down to the Chinese drycleaner on the corner. In the middle in front of Toast a woman and two guys, one with a flag, seemed to be leading the songs: probably music students because they could sing all the hard to reach notes.We were spilling out to the street now, I walked around to see what was happening and tried to get ?all we are saying is give peace a chance? a chance itself but it didn?t catch on.
The candles glimmered more now; dusk was settling in. Some people like us had little votive candles; others had big dripless candles with paper cups around them to keep the wind from blowing them out; one woman had a tray with five or six big candles well melted on and bright. Then we started moving again; I caught up to Kenny and the baby though our candles kept blowing out as we crossed Broadway and I had to ask people for their candles to light it again. We turned at the Twin Donut onto 125 St and crossed again on to ?Old Broadway? by the Community Board office. When we passed the old synagogue it was open for services; it was the first time I?d seen inside: small and somewhat plain but people were there; it looked like a church with rows of benches leading up to something like an altar in front. Around the corner the crowd filled the street; we first passed the emergency services garage to the station itself, but then the front of the crowd came back, led by a cop, I guess, but not in a regular uniform. He said, they have lost someone...
We gathered around, next to a emergency truck coming out of one of the garages. A man thanked us for coming and for bringing so much support over the past week -- -- he said that three of their crew were still missing and that in the 17 years that he had been with the force, that he had always felt that they were giving something to the community, ?but in the last four days, what you?ve given to us I could never repay.? He repeated himself, he wanted to say more but couldn?t. We all applauded, and sang some more; I didn?t see but K said when the man finished speaking he turned to break down in tears. We continued on 126 st, passing several cops who had come outside to watch and possibly the commanding officer (with lots of medals and badges on his shirt). I wonder if they had ever seen a demo in support of them before in this neighborhood. West Harlem isn?t known, I don?t think, for its strong support of our cops though I know on our street there are several families with cops and firemen and other city workers. For me it was moving not only because of what happened but also because in a way, this is what it should be, we should be able to appreciate their courage and commitment (which after all, is to protect us) and not be angry at their failings.
Back on 125 st we approached the fire house, picking up more people; famlies, individuals, homeboy teenagers with a couple candles each. It took a while for everyone to gather round across the front and again we spilled into the street. One of the firemen spoke; I don?t remember what he said. But people sang again; some guys looked on from the windows on the second floor and then everyone started filing past to shake all the firemen?s hands, thanking them personally, one by one. It took a long time. Then they carefully placed their candles to the side of the entrance; a woman asked the drummers to play a rhythm for ?this little light of mine, I?m going to let it shine? and we all sang that for a while (Leo fascinated by the drums, watching intently and trying to touch or shake the tamborine sometimes).
Afterward Kenny and I spoke to one of the firemen, a big guy; clearly with arms of steel and a warm face. He said that this firehouse was a busy one so that people were moved through it, I got the impression that especially newer firefighters came through for a year or two to get experience. So far one guy who had just finished his first year there was missing, and someone who had spent seven years there but was now with another unit was also missing; the unit hadn?t been called up at first so no one was missing from their current staff. He said that he can deal with the two or three funerals a year of his friends, usually it?s heart attacks, young guys, but this was too much, this is different. Some units downtown have 12, 13 members missing, and some of the special units are just gone, he said. Then he asked if he could hold the ?little guy? and he picked him up and swung him in the air -- high but gently -- I felt that Leo had recieved some sort of special blessing, a laying on of hands, something that would give him a special protection for the future. We walked back and it didn?t seem as dark....
diana agosta
On Friday night our neighborhood lit candles for the people who are missing in the World Trade Center tragedy. It started small...Kenny and I and the baby went downstairs with a little white votive candle in a glass cup. We met Daniel and Caren on the way down; we found out that Caren worked in the WTC (or was it in 5 or 7?) and was a little late to work on Tuesday; when her train reached Cortland St. instead of stopping it went on to Rector St. As she got to the street she saw the first tower in flames and then saw plane crash into the second tower. She ran down the street; I think she said that a fireman or someone pulled her into a doorway to cover her from the debris; then she ran further east and got onto a train uptown. I?ve heard so many stories now, I?m confused what happened to whom, sorry. I should knock on her door tomorrow, it seems that people are feeling even worse now that the enormity of it all, how close they came, begins to sink in. Caren said that she?d been feeling sick all week, and she looked puffy and not put together; usually she has such a great sense of style...
Anyway soon two women who live in Dennis? old apartment came down, then Maggie who lives with Misia and then Karen T. We all had candles and lit them. Across the street at the musicians? building there were some people with candles; it was just beginnng to get dark so we could still see each other but the little glows of the candles across the street shone more brightly for being under those thick trees that fill with white blooms in the spring.
Looking down Claremont Ave we saw people in front of the next building, one of the several our landlord is renovating and we have been comiserating with some of the tenants who are now suffering what we have gone through. Soon it became clear that people were moving up the block, beginning to walk with their candles; some who looked like students; Latina mothers and their kids; a prof kenny knows from Rutgers and his family. We followed them around the corner to Broadway. There on the corner we gathered for a while, while the mostly empty trains passed overhead, bored conductors looking on with surprise. Some people carried flags -- one young man had a big flag like someone leading a parade might carry, but with a shorter pole so it washed through the crowd at eye level. Someone started singing and then we all joined in as we could; we did God Bless America; the Star Spangled Banner, and Oh Beautiful. I don?t like these songs, usually, or their nationalist meaning (well Oh beautiful is ok, at least it?s about natural beauty of this land). But this night I could hardly get the words out thinking of all those people lost in an instant never knowing what was happening or having a chance to say goodbye to the people they love. And also thinking about this gathering, how extraordinary for this whole mixed up neighborhood to be doing something all together, any simmering resentments or prejudices or misunderstandings or blindnesses ignored, insignificant for now: students paying exhorbitant rents for crowded shares in shoddily renovated apartments; older folks who have seen waves of us come and go, some with children and grandchildren and great grandchildren on the block or even the same building by now; the family who works in the laundry and parks their lawn chairs on the corner, smoking and hanging out with their kids all the summer nights; musicians who settled in after attending the music school down the street; the guys with the african talking drums who played at the demos to fight the eviction of the roti restaurant and the old lady over on tiemann place ...
Karen T and I caught up on our news and what we had heard while Kenny carried baby Leo on his shoulders and mingled with his friend the professor and others, too, I guess; lost track of Caren and Daniel, maybe it was too much for them. But there were a lot of people now, still coming down from Claremont and from Broadway and maybe even from Morningside Gardens and the Grant Projects. We started moving up Broadway again; past the Chinese and African Restaurants, the newly expanded laundry, Thrifty?s supermarket ( I still miss Angel Sr and Jr); the other remaining bodega. We stopped again in front of Toast, the new yuppie restaurant bar (yummie portobello mushroom sandwiches and strong coffee), now maybe a hundred people crowding around, on the other side too in front of the new pizza place and the Chinese takeout and African art and frame store all the way down to the Chinese drycleaner on the corner. In the middle in front of Toast a woman and two guys, one with a flag, seemed to be leading the songs: probably music students because they could sing all the hard to reach notes.We were spilling out to the street now, I walked around to see what was happening and tried to get ?all we are saying is give peace a chance? a chance itself but it didn?t catch on.
The candles glimmered more now; dusk was settling in. Some people like us had little votive candles; others had big dripless candles with paper cups around them to keep the wind from blowing them out; one woman had a tray with five or six big candles well melted on and bright. Then we started moving again; I caught up to Kenny and the baby though our candles kept blowing out as we crossed Broadway and I had to ask people for their candles to light it again. We turned at the Twin Donut onto 125 St and crossed again on to ?Old Broadway? by the Community Board office. When we passed the old synagogue it was open for services; it was the first time I?d seen inside: small and somewhat plain but people were there; it looked like a church with rows of benches leading up to something like an altar in front. Around the corner the crowd filled the street; we first passed the emergency services garage to the station itself, but then the front of the crowd came back, led by a cop, I guess, but not in a regular uniform. He said, they have lost someone...
We gathered around, next to a emergency truck coming out of one of the garages. A man thanked us for coming and for bringing so much support over the past week -- -- he said that three of their crew were still missing and that in the 17 years that he had been with the force, that he had always felt that they were giving something to the community, ?but in the last four days, what you?ve given to us I could never repay.? He repeated himself, he wanted to say more but couldn?t. We all applauded, and sang some more; I didn?t see but K said when the man finished speaking he turned to break down in tears. We continued on 126 st, passing several cops who had come outside to watch and possibly the commanding officer (with lots of medals and badges on his shirt). I wonder if they had ever seen a demo in support of them before in this neighborhood. West Harlem isn?t known, I don?t think, for its strong support of our cops though I know on our street there are several families with cops and firemen and other city workers. For me it was moving not only because of what happened but also because in a way, this is what it should be, we should be able to appreciate their courage and commitment (which after all, is to protect us) and not be angry at their failings.
Back on 125 st we approached the fire house, picking up more people; famlies, individuals, homeboy teenagers with a couple candles each. It took a while for everyone to gather round across the front and again we spilled into the street. One of the firemen spoke; I don?t remember what he said. But people sang again; some guys looked on from the windows on the second floor and then everyone started filing past to shake all the firemen?s hands, thanking them personally, one by one. It took a long time. Then they carefully placed their candles to the side of the entrance; a woman asked the drummers to play a rhythm for ?this little light of mine, I?m going to let it shine? and we all sang that for a while (Leo fascinated by the drums, watching intently and trying to touch or shake the tamborine sometimes).
Afterward Kenny and I spoke to one of the firemen, a big guy; clearly with arms of steel and a warm face. He said that this firehouse was a busy one so that people were moved through it, I got the impression that especially newer firefighters came through for a year or two to get experience. So far one guy who had just finished his first year there was missing, and someone who had spent seven years there but was now with another unit was also missing; the unit hadn?t been called up at first so no one was missing from their current staff. He said that he can deal with the two or three funerals a year of his friends, usually it?s heart attacks, young guys, but this was too much, this is different. Some units downtown have 12, 13 members missing, and some of the special units are just gone, he said. Then he asked if he could hold the ?little guy? and he picked him up and swung him in the air -- high but gently -- I felt that Leo had recieved some sort of special blessing, a laying on of hands, something that would give him a special protection for the future. We walked back and it didn?t seem as dark....
diana agosta
Collection
Citation
“story895.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 18, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/13024.