Virtually everyone in America had their own intense experience on September 11, 2001 - some more potent than others. I will never claim to have been deeply personally affected by it, since my concept of "deeply" is based on seeing people whose spouses, children, parents and friends were killed in the attacks. Meanwhile, compared to someone in Idaho, perhaps I could be considered "deeply" personally affected.
Living in New Jersey - and northern New Jersey, at that - at the time of the attacks automatically made my experience more immediate than the experience of 99% of Americans, and visiting the World Trade Center site and thinking too long about the whole thing is always an unsettling experience.
Having studied creative writing (namely poetry) in what I deem a pretty rigorous undergrad program for five years, I think I have a pretty strong aversion to abstract quasi-patriotic words/concepts like "courage," "bravery," "freedom," "tragedy" and the like - but talking about 9.11 is a strange exception in my literary brain. It's as if I can't use concrete words. I can only refer to that day in terms of abstractions, in terms of words you can't necessarily define - as if to be able to define it would be too painful, too raw.
I don't quite feel like getting into it here, so I'll let some pictures suffice.
The
PATH (Port Authority Trans Hudson) station at WTC obviously closed shortly after the attacks and re-opened only a few years ago. Thousands of people use it every day - and I might even say it's my favorite PATH station. Hopefully this image can give you an idea of its size.
The best place to view the "reconstruction" of Ground Zero is in the World Financial Center just west of Ground Zero. You can see they have made a lot of progress. (End sarcasm.) Personally, I think the whole site should just be turned into a simple park, but who am I to decide.
In addition to simply thinking about the attacks, the way the site has turned into a tourist attraction is unsettling as well. I appreciate that people from all over the world want to see where this event took place, but what I cannot forgive is the commodification of what is essentially a graveyard. While Patrick and I looked at the site through the World Financial Center's large glass windows, a woman with a European accent came up to me, asked brassly, "Is this where the attack happened?" and pointed out the window. I said yes, and she then turned to her group of friends and spoke loudly in her native language, gesturing to the scene. It was like she was asking, "Is this where King Kong was?" while pointing at the Empire State Building. I wanted to tell her to shut the hell up. But it wasn't worth it.
7 more images below the jump.
