what a beautiful post, emily. this week's cover of the new yorker is a
loose line drawing of a bunch of legs walking by a picture of a fireman and
a candle. i don't think the point was the legs walking by, i think it was
how we all feel the loss of our firemen and police, and are trying to let
the survivors know we care. i've a friend who works for the lincoln center
chamber music society; they're giving a free concert tomorrow night at which
donations will be accepted for the local engine and ladder companies. a
total of 11 lost. 23 children left. there are so many painful statistics
like that...
last week, maybe thursday night, one of the last nights before they removed
most of the union square memorials, i had one of my most difficult moments
since 9/11. as i've mentioned, there was a beautiful memorial in union
square where some people (who had brought tons of roses from south africa
for a flower show that was cancelled) set up a display of the twin towers in
flowers. as did every display in ny, this one drew tons of candles, more
flowers, and most importantly, many of the 'missing' flyers that have
papered new york. our memorials...
anyway, that evening a fireman, still in uniform with gas mask around neck,
was deeply feeling this memorial. squatting down, picking up individual
flyers, looking at faces of the lost, holding back tears. and everyone
around a little more torn by his pain. i hadn't cried in 36 hours or so and
i just fell apart watching this person mourn...
i wish it were better circumstances, but thanks for writing, emily. it's
great to hear from you and i wish you and courtney much happiness on your
special day. i think finding happiness is more important than ever. a
couple of nights ago i spent an evening with a bunch of architects whose
office was burned out in the disaster. they lost no one, but lots of their
work, as well as individual libraries and portfolios. and many of them had
experienced the worst of the survivor stories, seeing people jumping, seeing
body parts on the ground, etc. but that evening, we laughed our asses off
at some post-disaster stories. the principal of the firm who couldn't find
a copy of the insurance policy. the controller who spoke at the first
company meeting three days after the hit, after the ineffectual principals,
saying "i want you all to apply for unemployment by monday" (when the policy
was finally found, salaries were, of course, covered). the three-week
employee who had already given her notice, and turned out to have six full
projects backed up on zip disks at home... we laughed and howled, knowing
the the difficulty of laughing and howling, so close to this disaster. and
it felt good. these folks have so much to deal with, so much more than me,
but laughing felt so good. we thought the mayor, the governor, the sec, the
fbi, they should all be in touch with this woman, because who knows what she
has backed up in her house. well, maybe you had to be there...
i sign this patrick, in my usual scattered way, with much love for the list
including such lurkers as emily...
jfp - bjork - vespertine - how shallow it felt to buy a pop desire like that
album. it sounds good, but it's really going to take a while before such
simple pleasures break through my darkest griefs from 9/11
>
>one thing i DID want to write about: last week one night
>courtney and i walked over to a local bar because we'd
>seen a poster that said all its proceeds would go to
>firemen and women, police officers, and the families who
>lost them. when we saw the bar, it had literally overflowed
>onto the street, hundreds of people, neighbors, all ages,
>even kids who were drinking sodas -- all out to spend
>money for this cause. i saw people buy one drink and give
>$20 -- every single dollar going into a huge jar for the
>fund. the crazed bartenders REFUSED TO TAKE TIPS, although
>we tried, saying they wanted to donate their time. (as
>an exbartender myself, this made a major impression!) but
>here's the best part: our firefighters and police officers
>were there. some in uniform, some out (some even on duty
>who got coffee and sat in their cars to watch). they were
>just overcome by seeing this show of support. they were
>treated like heroes! they were laughing, crying sometimes,
>getting slapped on the back. they had their drinks passed
>to them by many, many grateful people who kept saying thank
>you to them. it was like a block party, but with the biggest
>heart you can imagine. it was like magic. there was talk
>of war, yeah, but there was mainly just love in the air.
>and the smell of spilled beer. and laughter. and music
>from the jukebox.
>
>as we walked out, we said goodnight to officers and firefighters,
>who smiled and raised their glasses to us. around the corner
>was a firetruck, with a firefighter in uniform standing next
>to it. we walked right up to him and i told him that we came
>out that night to support him and his coworkers and that i
>was proud to get a chance to say thank you in person. thank
>you for HIS work. for doing HIS job in my city. he nodded,
>and smiled, and said thank you back to us.
>
>so then i walked home, through one of those early fall brooklyn
>nights, holding the hand of the person i'm going to marry
>right here in brooklyn in less than a month -- and things
>were, just for one moment, OK.
