It's been a full year since my last trip home to New York City. Back then the city, the entire world in fact, was in a state of shock. Today, as they say, everything is different, yet everything is the same.
It seems the ATM is taking over Manhattan these days. You can't walk half a block without encountering one of these new compact and streamlined machines, on street corners, in bodegas, Korean markets and laundromats. They look like slot machines without the pull-lever, sort of a "no-armed bandit." And this is a good thing for tourists who find themselves a little short of cash on the way to ground zero. After all, there are a lot of memories to buy there.
I approached St. Paul's Chapel from the Broadway side. The church, completed in 1766, is the oldest existing church in New York City. Some would say it is a miracle that it still stands, residing as it does where once the shadow of the great behemoth towers was cast. Last year this church became a center and sanctuary for workers at ground zero. It continues to do great work around this terrible tragedy to this day. The heavy wrought iron fencing surrounding St. Paul's has become a living shrine, NYC's own Wailing Wall. Prayers, photos, flags, hats, shirts, flowers, stuffed animals all adorn this fence, forming a solid wall on all four sides of an entire city block. The church is constantly taking old items down, which they place in a permanent collection, to make way for the new.
Encircling this shrine, as tightly packed as the offerings that grace this wall of mourning, street vendors hawk souvenirs and trinkets like moneychangers in the temple of our sorrow. Few were willing to talk about the meaning or significance of their presence on this hallowed ground. One man berated me for taking his picture as he hid his face behind an open booklet of photos simply titled Tragedy.
"One dollar key chain, five dollar books. One dollar key chain, five dollar books," shouted Antonio Estrella from his table at the corner of Broadway and Fulton. The books are the same cheaply made picture booklets the previous man hid behind, filled with photos of the burning and collapsing towers and the tragic aftermath. The key chains depict the towers in their wholeness.
"You know, it's for the tourists, the people who weren't here," Antonio said, explaining his merchandise. "They want to see it's history. What you forget you are doomed to repeat." I had to agree with Antonio. This is for the tourists. And as much as the sight of all this memorabilia sickened me, none of these vendors would be here if it weren't for the simple fact that people are actually buying this junk. Whether it's matted photos of burning towers (where do you hang a picture like that?) or one of the many little gold-glitter snow domes (I counted four different scenes) of the World Trade Center, people were buying. Tee shirts, baseball caps (you can now get the classic Yankees cap with police and fire department logos added), teddy bears in fireman gear, you name it, they've got it.
Some vendors lay claim to this area as their regular selling ground. A man who would only identify himself as Tiger told me, "I've been out here selling for ten years now. My merchandise has changed a little, but this is my spot. Now I sell NYPD. I didn't use to sell that."
Around the corner on Vesey St., Jim Stuart is selling little American flags for a buck. "Save a vet, buy a flag," he called out, but few stopped or even glanced in his direction. I asked him how this event has affected his life. "Well, it's helping me. It was a tragedy, but it will never happen again. You know, I served in Vietnam, but the government doesn't give me a thing. I was a hero, but now I'm a bum."
Just down the block I can see the high fences that surround the hole in the ground where the once great towers stood. People stretch their necks in vain to see what now appears as little more than a large future construction site, but there is no vantage point for viewing here.
High up on the fence top, also beyond view, is a list of the names of the victims. Security guards man the other side of the fence to tell those who climb it for a better look to get down. Rising out of the obscurity, a huge metal cross, fashioned from fallen beams, is visible through the barrier. A young man in a red smock approached me and asked if I would like him to pray with me. I told him prayer has always been a personal thing for me and he returned to his Christian youth group, who seemed to be finishing up their work for the day.
I followed the crowd around the south end of the site, but every vista they sought seemed blocked in one way or another. When finally a small area for viewing opened up, the crowd clung eagerly to the chain-link fence. Flashes popped and video cameras rolled, memories for the family disaster album.
Meanwhile, the debate goes on over what the appropriate rebuilding would be like. Many would like to see a large memorial park here, but it would appear the powers that be won't be satisfied until every square inch of valuable office space is rebuilt in all its rentable glory. And still there are those who believe that if we do not build a bigger, better, stronger tower that somehow the terrorists will have won.
Away from this Disneyland of disaster sites I sought out a more residential perspective. New Yorkers, it seems, are moving on. Monica and Steve, my hosts who did so much good work around the 9/11 tragedy (see "A Jouney Home," online issue of Sept. 27, 2001) have no desire at all to visit ground zero.
"There's just no way I'll go down there. My life is about moving forward," Monica said. And moving forward they are. In a conscious, post 9/11 decision, Steve and Monica are having a baby.
"You know, in a time like this it just seems like the right thing to do, building a future," Steve said, though we all wonder about just what that future will hold as war with Iraq looms on the horizon.
As Monica's friend Chris reluctantly admitted, " I'm not just sure this country will attack Iraq, I'm counting on it." Chris is a war correspondent that most recently spent time reporting on Chechen rebels and their struggle with Russia. He's in New York City to make a pitch to the big networks to cover the coming Iraqi war from an insider Kurdish perspective. " This war will happen regardless of whether or not Iraq allows weapon inspectors in."
I wandered the streets and old haunts taking in the view. Yes, life goes on. New Yorkers barely seem to notice the pervasion of 9/11 window displays. Barney's New York's larger than life fireman photos will probably create some kind of subliminal fashion trend in the susceptible future, but one can only hope most New Yorkers won't be buying it.
Union Square, where I spent so much time last year documenting the ongoing memorial, is now devoid of any remnants of the day. But on September 1st a group of Dominican Catholics began an interfaith fast for peace on the square (www.dominicanfastforpeace.org). I spoke with Sister Marion Irvine from San Rafael, California, "We have barely finished in Afghanistan where we have left as many as 3,000 civilians dead. Now we have begun our saber rattling with Iraq. Through our violence we only create more hatred. One has to wonder where all of this is going to end."
Contact David Sorcher at nechesh326@yahoo.com
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