|
« Shelter Island Sunset without the Sun, Food, Booze or Cream Cheese |
Home
| stand up loud proud and NOW »
Sunday, September 7 What did not Burn makes us Smile
Michele at "Small Victory" Michele is a gorgeous project herself... Today I learned about the surfacing of the amateur videotape by the Czech immigrant living in Queens. This tape shows the rarest of footage, of the first plane hitting the tower.. that it's been sitting in his closet all this time and nearly erased by his son is amazing.. I have not seen the tape yet and I can't decide whether I feel a desire to see it or a horror, but I'm sure if I watch the news for more than five seconds today it will show up.. The timing just before the anniversary is of course, sadly poetic
I considered running them on my site two years ago but decided against it because everyone in the photos is smiling, myself included. It seemed absurd for us all to look so charged, so happy as if we were doing a job we absolutely loved. But you see, nearly two years later, that's the thing that has stayed with me the most. Now that the horror has let go its icy grasp, I remember most the love, the kindness, the unflinching bravery and goodness that was more thick and tangible than the endless smoke. I think of Dominic the tough guy security guard from The Seaman's Church, who wrapped an American flag around his head and charged down to the hole the day after the towers fell and started looking for a way to help.. Dominic's partner in arms the adorable boyish Billy was at his side, together they found ways to distribute soda, water, Gatorade, food to the firemen and make-shift volunteer crews digging body-parts out of the "hole." By the time I made it down there on September 16th, 5 days later, Dominic and Billy and just about everyone at The Seaman's Church had joined forces with the Yes rescue workers because on September 16th this was still a rescue effort. There was still hope. When I arrived Dom wrapped his arms around me in a way that made me feel like I was draped in pure love, whittled down to its simplest form. He and Billy had lost one of their best friends, they had nearly lost their own lives and they both stared at the world through wide, unblinking glassy eyes. Dom was on fire. He was charged, manic, smiling, cheering, ready to save, feed, cheer up, guide, dance, sing, scream. He was ready to do anything buy cry. I wonder if he has cried since. There were so many heroes all around me, so many men and women who did not think they were heroes, who I assume still do not think they are heroes. They came from everywhere; Canada, San Francisco, Brooklyn, Queens, Florida. When I told them I was a New Yorker they felt sorry for me.
Me who was just grilling hamburgers for them and carting Gatorade to the hole. They were the ones with someone else’s blood on their hands. Burns from the smoldering ash. I think of the Indian man who quietly stood in the corner making sure the snack bins were full, the water cold. He had found his way out there and just didn't go home for oh I don't know how long, maybe two weeks. He spoke little, smiled a lot and just quietly stood behind the buffet line handing out goodies, nodding when they thanked him. and I think of Dom, sweet, big guy, teddy bear Dom. The last time I talked to him over a year later, he still hadn't come down. He reminded me of a Vietnam Vet. I was sure that he still saw all those images every time he closed his eyes. "I'm thinking about joining the marines," he said. Dom is about 50. I look at the pictures of Dom, me, the army rabbi, Brian the nice little Jewish boy who doled out new dry socks to the firemen and yes, we were all smiling, we were all looking like perky cheer-leaders in front of burning mayhem. But it's right that we should have smiled, because then and now, we had found the one good thing to come out of that wreckage; Humanity.
| 
Archives |
I started looking at some photos taken of me at ground zero that I'm attempting to email to my editrix the great Nancy of Queerday.com. to hopefully post this coming week ...
