nmah16.xml

nmah16.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-06-14

unedited, grammatical errors and all, from my journal and emails to friends and family, the week of 9 sep 01, from my lower east side apartment:

first -- thanks everyone for your calls, emails, etc. this day has just been
like hell. i have done virtually nothing, yet am totally tapped out.
i was awakened this morning by what i thought was thunder. as i checked phone
messages which were already an unusually high number for that early in the day,
i heard many emergency sirens out there -- not all THAT out of the ordinary for
nyc.
of course, the messages tipped me off, and i had only to look out the window in
my apartment office to see the cloud of black smoke.
i love my apartment especially for a couple reasons: the bedroom has a view of
the empire state building; the office a view of the top 5 floors and huge
antenna of the wtc, which at night was beautifully lit, and as comforting to me
as a nightlight (i know it sounds corny, but true -- i looked up at that thing
dozens of times in a typical evening) -- oh, and the rooftop (i live on the top
floor) view is breathtaking. still half asleep and in my pajamas (boxers and a
t-shirt, really), i stumbled up to the roof.
others were already there. i made my way to the southern edge for the best view
jaw-dropping; unbelievable is all i can say to describe the black smoke
billowing across the horizon as far as one could see, the vivid nearly primary
red ring of fire framing the gash in the tower (i still had no idea what was
going on really). at that moment i thought this to be the worst thing i had
ever witnessed that the fire would subside and the wtc would be left with a
massive gash, that like its older sister to the north (the esb, which was hit
by a u.s. bomber during a ww2 blackout) would certainly be repaired in time. of
course i was to be very wrong in my assumption. less than one minute of taking
this in, glass sprayed down, confetti and glitter catching the sunlight; an
elaborate fountain of grey ashen smoke rose up as the building just sank into it
-- i mean SANK -- it didn't tip or tumble. it was so neat, as in orderly -- it
just came straight down. there was a treblel!
y crackling (like a dud firework) followed by an eerie low rumble. then quiet.
just shock.
as it happened the others on the roof exclaimed "there it goes, there it goes .
. . " i looked to them -- is it falling??!!! it seems laughable that this
could even be considered possible. they informed me that the first tower had
already gone down. i watched lower manhattan burn for a couple hours as i tried
to make calls -- no dial tones on the home or cell phones.
liz and i and janet (visiting from albany) walked to beth israel med center to
give blood. it was just so amazing how incredibly helpless i felt watching it
happen, perhaps tens of thousands of people dying before my eyes in less than a
minute. besides that of course, the selfish fact that this was THE landmark,
the symbol of nyc -- when i climb out of the subway in an unfamiliar
neighborhood i ALWAYS use the wtc to navigate, like the north star -- and my
familiar nightlight.
it is 2am now. nyc has NEVER been this quiet. no traffic, no planes, no late
night revelry. just still.
the last time i felt this distraught i retreated to the rooftop. it was winter,
4am. krista's uncle (my favorite) had just died. it was a somewhat magical
predawn, as we were in the midst of a spectacular meteor shower. i pondered
life and death and fate and all the things one thinks about when someone you
love dies. of course the skyline was there to comfort me. again, i know how
maudlin this sounds, but i knew EXACTLY where i was: between the empire state,
the wtc, and the stars -- home.
well, i digress. i really don't know what else to say. kinda worried about
what happens next. not too confident in our national leaders; in fact terrified
of them. is it over?
love to all. keep safe and sound,
christopher

mom --
i agree with you about powell -- for a republican and a military officer, he's
surprisingly intelligent, logical and well
spoken.
today -- 14th street and below is "closed" (no traffic besides essential
emergency). i live basically 14 blocks BELOW 14th st
-- thankfully some restaurants, delis, etc. here are open. service is
terrible, but that's unintentional and understandable.
i live on a south corner of east houston street, which upon returning home i
discovered to be entirely barricaded by police --
not only to traffic, but pedestrians. i had to wait on the corner until, thank
god my super (the guy that takes care of the
apartment building) came out and i called to him. only then did the police let
me come home. now i REALLY feel TRAPPED here. i don't know when work (and
therefore
income) will resume for me, nor when i'll be able to really venture outside.
it is a BEAUTIFUL summer day otherwise.
there is a "light" white cloud of fallout now over my neighborhood. nothing is
dust covered here; it all seems aloft.
phone service (cell and landline) is still intermittent here. verizon has made
all it's outdoor public pay phones free during
this time (which is astounding . . .), gasoline is $5.00 per gallon, in
manhattan at least. mail is not being delivered to my
address and those below. uncertain when services (including trash removal)
will resume. i am ever patient -- i totally
understand the necessity, and dare not complain; merely relating the
circumstances here.
i really didn't dream last night. the helicopters and fighter jets broke the
silence around 2:30am. woke up already in
tears. really, no matter how many times they replay this on television, no
matter how much closer or detailed than my experience some of that
coverage is, what is locked in my brain and persists there is my witnessing it
first-hand (no matter from a "safe" distance).
it is truly THE most devastating and completely unbelievable event i have EVER
witnessed. the sheer magnitude and beauty of
those buildings, what they symbolized . . . . it was a huge and familiar chunk
of the city i love.
beside the "hometown" pride and personal connection i feel about this place, i
must say new york city to me is the LEAST
american city there is in america: every race, religion, nationality,
persuasion is represented and tolerated here. it is
more an attack on humanity.
it is what we'd call "indian summer" back in indiana. i remember this rare
time of year as being perfection.
a prisoner at home, for now,
christopher

no bread, bottled water or toilet paper at supermarkets, delis, convenience
stores. there are no newpapers either.
literally, there is NO traffic down here, thus no delivery trucks to bring in
goods / necessities. i'm not even sure that
inbound bridges and tunnels are open now. there is no word on how long this
"quarantine" will last -- quite awhile i
figure. they are stopping non-residents at 14th street and south, houston st
and south, delancey street and south (which
means delancey street, three blocks away is the farthest south i can go), and
finally NO one beside emergency workers below
canal street. you absolutely MUST have PROPER i.d. -- my driver's licence
still has my midtown address (over 3 years old
now), which is why i had trouble getting home last evening. i now carry my
passport AND my voter registration card
(containing my correct address), and the police DO check EVERYONE; no way
around it. i think about people living say, in
israel and palestine where they go through this shit all the time -- bombing,
violence, police and citizens alike carrying automatic
weapons, checkpoints, on the spot searches, etc . . . and how insane it must be
to live that way. who knows what this could
snowball into here, BUT it seems all new yorkers are taking it in stride --
which is good -- everyone has been so cool, laid
back, perhaps numb, but really calm (if not unnervingly so). humans are
adaptable creatures; those in war torn parts of the
world simply adapt and get used to it quick. they HAVE to if they expect to
survive. it just becomes a fact of life. i see
now how easy even the most foreign concepts and behaviors are to adopt if given
no choice.
the wind has shifted from the due south. directly overhead it is clear as the
most perfect fall evening -- except the acrid
cloud laying low over all of manhattan. it heads north to midtown, then seems
to envelop it all, across the upper east side.
to the north, the empire state, chrysler and citicorp buildings are nothing but
shadows (they are usually proudly and
beautifully lit), perhaps out of respect, mourning, or even to conceal
themselves against a nighttime attack. the exact
reason matters little; it simply is "wrong". my throat is burning. they say
there is asbestos and god knows what else in
that cloud.
it is truly more silent out there than any night in the 18 years i lived in
indiana. without the ever-present "light
pollution", the stars are quite plentiful and stunning and it makes me aware
how tiny this island really is in the larger
scheme of things.
krista tells me there are aircraft carriers off the beaches of long island.
i'll look forward to her reports.
it seems the best way to reach me now is via email. local calls have been no
problem, but my family has trouble getting through,
it is difficult for me to make long distance calls even across the hudson to
new jersey.
fyi: most of my friends and colleagues are not office workers -- i know of few
people who work regularly in the wtc. my
roommate's good friend, however, worked on the 70th floor of the north tower.
he was there when the south tower was hit.
they actually announced over the building-wide p.a. that this incident was
isolated to the opposite tower and that there was
no need to evacuate. he said "screw this", gathered his co-workers and headed
down the stairs. on their descent, just below
the 50th floor, the plane struck THEIR building. they all managed to fly down
those stairs and get out o.k. steve ran to the
brooklyn bridge, and as he walked over it towards home he watched . . . the
rest we all know.
hope you don't mind these posts. i have limited contact with even those of my
friends who are here in town.
take care my friends,
christopher

during the night a wind change: the noxious cloud of fallout has invaded and
blanketed my neighborhood. all i can see of lower manhattan is bright haze,
like a search light in a steambath. there is so much pollution in the air now,
to the north the low crescent moon which is just a sliver is CRIMSON!

it is just dawn now. the cloud is stretching overhead like the milkyway. i am
awake because my chest is tight and the air is so foul -- out on the roof the
air quality is like taking the charcoal after a bbq, pulverizing it with a
baseball bat, standing over it and breathing deeply. yes, it's THAT bad. it is
totally crisp and clear to the north.
the windows have been closed tight in my apartment all night, but it smells like
this place is on fire. i had to dismantle the smoke detectors earlier.
i have some surgical masks so i can go outside -- they are necessary at this
point. the wind (now 6am) seems as though it is slowly shifting back away from
the city.
anyway, if they survived the fall, the intense heat -- breathing this at ground
zero would have done them in in minutes. i cannot imagine what it is for the
rescue workers.
well, back to sleep i hope . . .
christopher

the streets seem to be open to delivery trucks now. got janet (my friend and
former college professor who is on sabbatical, and was to stay with us while
taking classes at fi.t.) to penn station, so she could take the amtrak back to
albany. we stopped along the way to have breakfast it IS remarkable so much
down here is open now, as the ONLY non-emergency workers below 14 st, are those
that LIVE below that line. we walked with luggage up to union square. there,
hundreds had congregated for a memorial. it wasnt clear if there were LINES to
get into the subways, but above 14 street everything is congested with traffic,
people, noise, chaos in stark contrast to the quiet calm down here. we
remarkably hopped a cab immediately. we sat at the intersection of madison ave
and 14th st in gridlock for what seemed an eternity; an expensive one at that.
once we turned off the jammed, packed park ave, things eased up across 31st st
to 6th ave from where we had to go on foot!
again (just a block from the station). set us back about $7 plus tip not
much more than i would normally expect to pay for that ride at this time of day.
i must admit i didnt feel too safe in penn (amtrak, lirr, subways, and madison
sq garden are all within). it was more crowded than at holiday times. she
already had the return ticket, and we had no trouble finding train info on the
big boards. passengers crowded the gate. we were informed the train was
standing room only, and there wasnt much room to do that.
i walked home from penn, through chelsea, grabbed a beverage to go. was of
course stopped and checked for i.d. at 14 st. as i walked through the
comparatively deserted greenwhich village, i felt as though i had some special
privilege to be there. i cut diagonally across greenwhich ave to 6th, where st.
vincents hospital had to deal with emergencies and the press, as well as
onlookers, well wishers, families and friends of those unaccounted for. lamp
posts, mailboxes, business windows and car windshields were wallpapered with
8x11 leaflets bearing names and faces (mostly color, smiling snapshots) of those
missing. it was staggering just how many . . . and just how futile it seems.
around washington square park, i had to slip the elastic bands of the mask back
over my ears. not a winning fashion statement, but i was in great company.
talked with noel who is sound engineer at the rock club, the continental. all
shows have been cancelled there and all over town at least until next week. i
imagine peeps here might be in the mood for a little diversion, but there seem
to be no concerts, movies, sports, museums, libraries open at present. the
video stores in the east village , however look beyond busy and picked through.
nothing sensational is happening here on the home turf now. thats fine by me.
thanks, again everyone for your good wishes, calls and emails. hopefully life
will i want to say return to normal i think begin to resemble normal is
enough to hope for right now.
christopher

i walked through my hood today, as the autumn weather is perfection, the light
is golden.
i grab a slice of pizza (a comfort food moment), and walk past the islamic
mosque on 11th street. there is a mans wailing broadcast over the outdoor
speakers. some men in long robes and grey beards stand and talk on the
sidewalk. they look just as uncertain as the rest of us. two police officers
sit quietly in a car across the street. i pass a first-floor apartment window
from which i hear a woman loudly weeping and lamenting in spanish, as if she has
just heard the worst news for the first time. children are happily playing in
thompkins square park. votive candles have been placed and lit there under the
big tree; i can smell the melting wax, like the inside of a church.
the sky is della robbia (a 15c. sculptor and painter of christian iconography)
blue, with the exception of that cloud of dust and building and human beings
where there used to stand an eternal monument to the ambition and acheivement of
man; for all too brief a time.
its just a collage of contradictions . . .
there is a raucous drum and sax combo playing in the park, dog walkers, pot
smokers, old people pausing to rest.
i walk again towards home, the evening light making the bricks warm and golden.
for all its bombastic glory, i enjoy most the new york which is human-scaled.
i in fact love it.
today is still limbo i tell myself. tomorrow work. tomorrow the rest of my
life.

christopher peifer nyc 2001