Remembering

We sat up until midnight last night watching a great program on the History Channel: "An i-Witness to 9/11." There isn't much to be said that hasn't already been said; not much to show that hasn't already been shown. But Nate and I feel like the day just can't pass by without our acknowledging the tragic loss of life and the reality of our vulnerability, and also reflecting with gratitude on the freedoms offered to us as American citizens.

I remember like it was yesterday hauling it up Broadway on my cruddy 15-speed bike, trying to make sense of what was happening. I was grateful I'd ridden my bike down to work that day; I was teaching at a music school on West 85th Street while completing my Masters degree. Little did I know that public transit would be completely down for several days, and that having my bike that day got me safely-- and quickly, home. Home to our little apartment, where we held onto each other and watched--along with everyone else--the hellish day unfolding, just 7 miles away.

I remember standing in line for several hours to donate blood that afternoon at Columbia University, trying to DO something other than stare at the harsh images on the TV. We were stunned. It was quiet and somber. I remember Nate quietly and severely telling me he would enlist if it was necessary. Standing in line with us was our good friend, who had received a call the previous evening from the law firm he was scheduled to interview for that morning. The firm was based on the 98th floor of the North Tower. The call had been to reschedule: could he come the afternoon of the 11th, rather than in the morning? As he stood with us, he was blank, almost trembling, with shock.

I remember, most profoundly, walking that evening from 38th Street (where Nate's parents were staying a hotel; incredibly, they were visiting that week) all the way back home to 122nd and Amsterdam. This walk took us through Times Square at 9:30 pm. As if we were witnessing a scene from Armageddon, Times Square was utterly dark. It was hollow. It was silent. It was completely surreal. We saw a total of 7 people in the 10 blocks between 40th and 50th Street. Five of them were police officers. The moving marquee strips only showed numbers to call to report missing people. There are no pictures of this. I don't think we would have taken any even if we'd had the camera with us, but this is a picture that will always be ingrained in my memory. It is a haunting picture; one that I hope never to witness again.

I remember. Do you? Where were you on that fateful day?