 Reflecting on Terror |
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Visions burned forever
into the mind and the heart
By DAVID ZINMAN
of TheColumnists.com
EVEN THOUGH I live on Long Island only 35 miles from the World Trade Center–in fact, within eyesight of the twin towers–I did not become aware of the September 11 disaster until a call came from South Carolina.
Lib Click of Conway, who went to school with my wife, Sara, was on the phone within 20 minutes of the crash. "Turn on the TV," she said. That first sight of the billowing smoke devouring the buildings will forever burn in my memory.
From the Loop Parkway, only a few blocks from our home in Point Lookout, the towers were visible on a clear day. Now dozens of astonished motorists pulled up on the side of the road, peering toward the Manhattan skyline. Great columns of blackness drifted above the horizon, obscuring the majestic skyscraper.
My first thought was of my son, Daniel. His law office was only two blocks from the center Had he made it out of the danger area? Hours later, I found out.
He told me he saw smoke pouring out of the building when he got out of the subway. Bodies were falling from floors high up. Debris poured down like hard rain. He did not know a plane had plunged into the building.
Moments later, he saw fire break out in the second tower. Smoke mushroomed into the clear blue sky. But, again, he did not know a plane had hit it.
Droves of people fled down the street. Daniel said he had to run with them or be trampled. At his building, the workers from his office were in the lobby. His boss told them to go home.
So, Daniel was safe. But they say this tragedy has touched everybody in New York. They have either lost someone in their family or have a friend who lost a husband or a wife or a child. And so it happened that a friend linked me to the disaster.
Someone called to say that Bill Edwards of Garden City, a golfing buddy, had invited Sara and me to a memorial mass for his son, Michael. He worked on the 104th floor of the Trade Center. He, along with 66 colleagues in his firm, had no hope of escaping before the towering inferno collapsed.
A half-hour before the memorial was to start, the pews at St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church were already half-filled. By the time services started, mourners occupied every seat and stood in the rear.
The turnout was a testament to Michael, 33, a graduate of the College of William and Mary--by coincidence, the school that Sara and Daniel attended. Friends called Michael, who had been married just five years ago, a "people person." His relaxed, easy-going personality endeared him not only to those in his community but to many in the intense, competitive financial world.
Michael's remains have not yet been found. So The Rev. Joseph Schlafer spoke as if he were in the church in spirit. "The love of this parish is with you, Michael, and will continue to be with you.."
Michael's brother, Chris, talked of climbing trees in the backyard as kids. Michael asked if he would like to fly like Superman. Chris said, "Yes." So Michael gave him a push, but the only flying Chris did was to fall to the ground. I could not hear the end of the story because tears overcame him.
James Dunn, Michael's boss, talked about Michael "getting the job done without any of that Wall Street edge...He was a real friend and I am proud of him." Then, he too, broke down.
The one person who carried on to the end was Michael's father. Though he had recently undergone hip surgery, Bill Edwards stood ramrod straight at the altar and spoke in a strong voice. "My faith in God remains undiminished. I had 33 years of quality time with Michael."
Now gray-haired and in his 60s, Bill Edwards was a hard-working man who made a successful career in real estate. He was known as well for his prowess on the golf course. He was champion several times at the prestigious Garden City Golf Club, rated among the nation's top 100 classic courses. Edwards, a graduate of Colgate University, said he was establishing a scholarship at his own alma mater in his son's name. Then, looking out at the audience, he spoke for his wife, Mary Ann, as well, as they looked toward lonely days. "I love you all and will need you in the future."
But he refused to turn the occasion into one of sadness. He said a verse in a song from "South Pacific" represented his feelings. "I am a cockeyed optimist," he said. "Today I say this to you," Edwards concluded as he extended his hand in a thumbs-up gesture.
As I listened amidst the mourners, my thoughts turned to South Carolina. We spend our winters in Conway in Sara's family house on Main Street. She was born in the front bedroom 70 years ago this October.
Because of Sara, people have welcomed me into the community. They have treated me with warmth and friendliness. But I have kept a low profile–rarely talking about my life in New York. As a Yankee I have tried to fit into the culture of a small southern community as best I could.
Things may be a bit different now. Tragedy tests the mettle of a people. The courage of thousands of New Yorkers like Bill Edwards to respond to catastrophe with grace and fortitude has uplifted all of America.
New York City's firemen and policemen rose to the challenge. With people streaming downstairs all about them, they rushed fearlessly into the smoking towers to try to save others. Hundreds of them–New York's finest--persished. Mayor Rudolph Giuliani put behind prior acts of questionable judgment to inspire millions with his leadership. During the difficult aftermath, he calmed his people with great sensitivity and compassion. Crowds now cheer him wherever he goes.
New York City will perservere and overcome. And so will the country. And I will walk tall as a native New Yorker when I go down to South Carolina this winter.
©
2001 by David Zinman. The
illustration is © 2001 by Jim Hummel.
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