A Day in the City

Having been less than a mile from the World Trade Center last Sept. 11 doesn't mean that I hate bin Laden more than someone who wasn't close by. It doesn't mean that I was filled with more terror and dread than those who were far away from what was happening. On the phone to frantic friends and relatives, I was the one comforting them--not only assuring them that I was okay, but that the world would be also. Simply by proximity, I became an authority on the state of things. They could get fresh speculations on who, why, and how from CNN, but I was someone they could ask about sensory perceptions--Was smoke still billowing up from the site? I could look out my window and tell them yes. What did it smell like? Like things were burning that were never meant to be burned. Could you hear the sound when they collapsed? No--it was more like the silent crumbling of someone struck by a heart attack than a loud and clumsy fall. And then, the hardest of all: What does it feel like to be there? Usually, I gave the expected answer because to tell how it really felt was anticlimactic. I believe I said more than once that it was "surreal" and "a little scary," but that "a real sense of community" was emerging. It would have been unacceptable to articulate the little selfishnesses that everyone was thinking, but no one would admit to: At least it wasn't me; dammit-we-had-Producers-tickets-tonight; what if they have to cancel Duke in New York? And most of all: Since it wasn't me, isn't it kind of cool to be here in the heat of the spectacle, to be a firsthand witness, to be able to say for years to come, "I was there?" New York moved on much more quickly than the rest of the country because it was necessary for New Yorkers to pick up their lives in order for basic city processes to occur. Kids had to go back to schoolyards. Garbage had to be collected. Broadway had to start up again. The subway had to keep running. These things resumed where they had left off, except that people were nicer. They made eye contact, offered help, invited you into their lives with a simple glance or a nod. All around us, all the time, was proof that life goes on and that remembrance is not the same as resentment.