I know, I haven't written in a while, but that could be due to my working double what I do in a normal month. The month is over, and I am on my last trip for September. I am in New York, in midtown Manhattan. I was here yesterday, too, and my parents came with me on that trip. We had a great time. First time ever for my mom to New York, and my dad was here years ago, before I was born, I think, or not far thereafter if not. After walking around Time's Square, I took my paren'ts for a ride on the famous New York subway to Wall Street. After seeing the NYSE for the first time for all us, my parent's and I headed to Ground Zero...
It was the most surreal and unimaginable site I have ever seen. I just can't put to words my thoughts and feelings as I stood there in the mostly baren streets of lower Manhattan. The buildings all around us were caked in a grey powder, and derelict cars littered the streets, their windows blown out and their shiny paint jobs tarnished with debri. The air smelled of burning metal, and there was ash and dust blowing everywhere. Hardly any noise penetrated the silence caused by disbelief, as other onlookers tried to digest the image that appeared before them. We were about three blocks from ground zero, and there, before us, stood the skeletal remains of one of the World Trade Center towers. Eerily, a sign on the lamp post next to me pointed the way to the WTC. Nearby, a lone tractor was clawing at a pile of cars, fire trucks and ambulences, breaking them into smaller pieces. In Battery Park, less than a quarter mile from the WTC, military forces set up a tent city. There, Hummers, police cars and tents filled the park, and armed men stood guard at the parks perimeter, the Statue of Liberty standing in the background.
My paren'ts and I just couldn't begin to believe, much less comprehend what we were looking at and the events that caused the destruction. Earlier in the day, we visited the Fire Fighter Memorial which had been donated to New York City shortly after the attacks occured. From there, we went by a fire station which lost 15 men at the WTC. It was so sad, just so sad. There are no more words to describe the pain and sorrow I feel for those men, my colleagues and the thousands of people still missing in the rubble of the World Trade Center.
Visiting the site of the disaster made me come to terms with what occured. Television and magazine and newspaper pictures only showed me what looked like the bombed out remains of some buildings in some foreign country far from my own. I could see buildings near the WTC with huge gashes in them, like some giant claw reached out and took a strike at them. I was compelled to take pictures of the destruction I witnessed, to help me remember the loss of life and innocence that occured in less than two hours. And to make sure I keep it real, for me, and to not let my mind brush it off as Hollywood special effects in some action film. The people were real. The buildings were real. The destruction was real.
The crew that I am now with and I plan to visit the site tomorrow, so they too can get a grasp at the destruction that changed our nation in so many ways, so quickly. It is part of the healing process -- making sure we keep it real in our hearts and our minds so we never forget.
When I return home in about a week, I will make every attempt to share my phots with you. I will let you know when they are on-line and available for viewing, so that you, to, can begin to heal.
It was the most surreal and unimaginable site I have ever seen. I just can't put to words my thoughts and feelings as I stood there in the mostly baren streets of lower Manhattan. The buildings all around us were caked in a grey powder, and derelict cars littered the streets, their windows blown out and their shiny paint jobs tarnished with debri. The air smelled of burning metal, and there was ash and dust blowing everywhere. Hardly any noise penetrated the silence caused by disbelief, as other onlookers tried to digest the image that appeared before them. We were about three blocks from ground zero, and there, before us, stood the skeletal remains of one of the World Trade Center towers. Eerily, a sign on the lamp post next to me pointed the way to the WTC. Nearby, a lone tractor was clawing at a pile of cars, fire trucks and ambulences, breaking them into smaller pieces. In Battery Park, less than a quarter mile from the WTC, military forces set up a tent city. There, Hummers, police cars and tents filled the park, and armed men stood guard at the parks perimeter, the Statue of Liberty standing in the background.
My paren'ts and I just couldn't begin to believe, much less comprehend what we were looking at and the events that caused the destruction. Earlier in the day, we visited the Fire Fighter Memorial which had been donated to New York City shortly after the attacks occured. From there, we went by a fire station which lost 15 men at the WTC. It was so sad, just so sad. There are no more words to describe the pain and sorrow I feel for those men, my colleagues and the thousands of people still missing in the rubble of the World Trade Center.
Visiting the site of the disaster made me come to terms with what occured. Television and magazine and newspaper pictures only showed me what looked like the bombed out remains of some buildings in some foreign country far from my own. I could see buildings near the WTC with huge gashes in them, like some giant claw reached out and took a strike at them. I was compelled to take pictures of the destruction I witnessed, to help me remember the loss of life and innocence that occured in less than two hours. And to make sure I keep it real, for me, and to not let my mind brush it off as Hollywood special effects in some action film. The people were real. The buildings were real. The destruction was real.
The crew that I am now with and I plan to visit the site tomorrow, so they too can get a grasp at the destruction that changed our nation in so many ways, so quickly. It is part of the healing process -- making sure we keep it real in our hearts and our minds so we never forget.
When I return home in about a week, I will make every attempt to share my phots with you. I will let you know when they are on-line and available for viewing, so that you, to, can begin to heal.
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