seen on Division Street on 9/11/11
seen on Division Street on 9/11/11
9/11 survivor tree
“Several weeks after the attack on the Twin Towers, a Callery Pear tree with lifeless limbs, snapped roots and blackened trunk was discovered and saved from the piles of smoldering rubble in the plaza of the World Trade Center. The tree was originally planted in the 1970s near buildings four and five in the World Trade Center; when it was rescued after 9/11 it measured just eight feet high. Horticulturists nursed it back to life at the Parks Department’s nursery in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx, and now it’s a towering 30 foot symbol of heroic resilience. Yesterday, it came back home.”
Paul Simon singing “Sound of Silence” at the 9/11 memorial on 9/11/11
This Is What I Remember (a poem)
This Is What I Remember
Standing on Fifth Avenue.
The girl next to me sobbing into a cell phone.
“He’s in there and people are just standing here taking pictures!”
And I kept shooting.
Talking to Jenny on the phone.
The Pentagon exploding on my TV screen.
“We’re at war! I don’t want to hang up with you!”
And I hung up the phone.
Anticipating a love letter.
The emptiness of my mailbox.
Returning a VHS to Hollywood Video.
Staring at face masks on the way.
“Am I the one in a movie?”
But I also can’t breathe.
Jumping over a puddle the night before.
Giggling while wondering out loud,
“What would happen if lightning struck a skyscraper?”
But an airplane?
No. An airplane never crossed my mind.
-alyse liebovich
Amanda’s Memory
I’ll never forget 9/11/01
I’ll never forget where I was that day — it was Junior year of high school — Stevenson — Lincolnshire, Illinois — I still picture it exactly
I’ll never forget the last morning of innocence — I woke up as usual — ate my breakfast — sat through first period while it was all happening — without a clue — they say you can feel it when something bad is happening — but I was oblivious
I’ll never forget who told me — his name was Zach — I was dating him at the time — we started dating the day before — it didn’t start well — every year the two days are linked — and every year we talk about it — a consistent reminder — a constant acknowledgement
I’ll never forget where I was when he told me — it was outside — I was walking between first and second period to my next class — old building to new building — I met him in the roundabout between — in the parking lot — amidst a sea of people
I’ll never forget that at first I didn’t believe it — I said yeah, right — I said are you serious? — I didn’t understand — I thought it was an accident — something must have gone horribly wrong — a malfunction — because who would do such a thing?
I’ll never forget the first time I saw the footage — students were gathered around a television — in the new building cafeteria — it was like a movie — it looked like CGI — it didn’t feel real — I felt de-sensitized — it wasn’t sinking in
I’ll never forget my second period class — chemistry — Mr. Schoenfisch — he was the first adult to acknowledge it — we hypothesized what happened — we were all stunned, shocked — the kid in front of me — I remember feeling sad for him — it was his birthday — I think of him every year
I’ll never forget the picture becoming clearer — it wasn’t an accident, they said — we’ve traced the group responsible — they had been planning it like that — they picked the date, the time, the targets — the Pentagon too — it all had significance — it was a message — it was elaborate — it finally was feeling real
I’ll never forget the rest of that day — nobody knew how to react, what to do — every teacher wanted to talk — the day’s lessons meant nothing — nothing when something like that had happened — we dropped everything to mourn — to reflect
I’ll never forget when it became personal — my best friend Lindsay — 4th period English class — her sister might have been in New York — her family was there — the look on her face — she was shaky — we walked to the front office to make a phone call — the halls were deserted — we walked with hesitation — we wandered — it felt like we were walking miles and miles — carrying the weight of the world on our backs
I’ll never forget the people — in the buildings — I would visualize their last moments — I would wonder what it sounded like — smelled like — the smoke — they must have known it was their final hour — to look at the person next to them, what their eyes must have said — what they thought about — what would I think about? — the people on the street — the people who watched it fall in front of them — the volunteers — the people who went in knowing they wouldn’t come out
I’ll never forget the questions I had — how did nobody know it would happen? — how could they make fools out of us? — who was protecting us? — how could someone hate so passionately that they’d die for that hate? — how could someone disrespect life like that? — how could someone willingly hurt innocent people?
I’ll never forget the aftermath — the graphic accounts — the details — the memorials — the news programs — the tears — the flag we built in our cafeteria — the fundraisers — the stories of the firefighters — the songs that were written — when they named it Ground Zero — the cleanup — the plans to rebuild — the lights that beamed where the buildings used to stand — the anniversaries looming — the worry it would happen again
I’ll never forget the feeling of being afraid — afraid that at any moment something could happen — that I’d be at the wrong place at the wrong time — taking one wrong step — that I’d be an innocent victim myself — in truth, the feeling hasn’t gone away
I’ll always remember realizing things would never be the same — it would always be there — thinking how I would explain it to my kids — how they would read it in their history books — knowing that the date would always ring in my head — make my heart skip a beat or two — I was a part of it
Requiem for the Towers (a poem)
Requiem for the Towers
By Peter A. Scarpato
We vainly seek them out this day,
That western point on New York’s southern shore.
Where once, colossal, stark they stood,
Midst those of lesser dreams and mortar made.
Radiant bolts of glass and steel, soaring, streaking, skyward bound.
Topless towers, breathless heights, alone with God and wind and wing.
They challenged meek and strong alike to strive for noble, grander things.
Impossibly conceived yet built, defiant giants rose supreme.
Yet reverently bowed seaward, south to honor Liberty serene.
And from Her luminescent torch upon these gracious towers cast,
Generations’ dreams of freedom, precious, prized and unsurpassed.
And at our humble feet they laid the world.
And at our humble feet so laid the world.
Somber winds now freely pass through hallowed space where once they stood.
A chary chill anoints our wrath…a tacit fear not understood.
The sleepless, tireless remain, with shoulders bent yet stronger still,
Sifting holy ashes stained - the shards of grief stab deep and shrill.
For every thousand fallen live ten thousand who shed ten-fold tears.
A hundred thousand mourners weep; a million more abide their fears.
A hundred million vow revenge, a billion more revile and seek
To rid the world of gutless men whose hateful creed destruction wreaks.
We know no end, this boundless land, of strength, resolve and courage
Keen to light the darkest, coldest night, to shine resplendent, brave, serene.
Though shattered now, these towers be, with thousands lost in stone and dust
Justice, swift, severe, complete, these fallen souls to us entrust.
For even in our darkest hours,
In depths of grief and sharp regret,
Solemn vows forever pledged,
We will rebuild — we won’t forget.
Renee’s Memory
Student Journalists on Sept. 11th
The morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I had pre-assigned my high school journalism students to watch CNN looking for various aspects of how broadcast journalists do their work. We gathered around a portable TV in the library, and had just begun our work, when CNN went live to New York. The first plane had struck the Trade Center. We watched in total silence as the second plane hit the tower. The first comment I remember hearing from our group was one of the students asking me, “Mrs. Moore, is this real?”
-Alyse Liebovich
-Jenny’s memory
(one of the only people I talked to on the phone that day)
![Beverly’s [my NYU freshman roommate’s mom] Memory](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lrdguiWV331r2gnrmo1_1280.png)
Beverly’s [my NYU freshman roommate’s mom] Memory
