NOTES FROM NEW YORK
September 12th, 2001
When terrorists slammed their hijacked planes into the World Trade Center towers they did more than murder and steal our innocence. They scarred our brains and took away the simple pleasures of life. What we find now is almost a collective, nationwide survivors guilt. These people took away our ability to enjoy those innocuous things that make the world livable. The thing that struck me today, the day after, is that I cannot perform any act -- like, say, watching anything on TV besides the coverage -- without feeling this immeasurable guilt. I cant imagine that this will ever go away. Its not a question of I Could Have Been There. Its more so just a tough frustration and a feeling of not letting go. Not letting that hand slip from yours. Because, in a way, when you do the tragedy subsides and we move on. When the site/sight leaves your eyes and they move onto something else the petty and the frivolous, unwanted but inevitable, creep back into your life. Take for example some of the utmost trivia: I wrote a review for four scripts, a quick-hits review, that was meant to go up Friday. Will I still send it to my boss? Sure. Why? Because what other choice is there?
Yeah, I know. Whats up with the serious stuff on a screenwriting web site? Well, I cant help it. I needed to say something and this is really the only forum I have. So bear with me. Or skip this whole thing. But let me indulge myself.
Ive lived in New York my whole life. Most say that with an air of pride. And so do I. I love my city. I love its sights and sounds, its pulse, its mystique and its people. Everyone calls their own city the best in the world, but I think New York makes a strong case for itself.
I remember as a kid coming to the city for the first time. And gazing up with awe and fear at the buildings that towered even over the huge-to-me adults. They seemed almost from a different planet in their size and look and perfection. It would be later, when I was a little older, that I would respect these redoubtable edifices for the work that had gone into them. Im not a man who builds himself, but sitting and contemplating the architectural majesty of these places was a favorite activity of mine.
And that was what was hardest for me yesterday. Seeing those buildings crumple. It was like watching ones hero shown to be human. It can happen! Nothing is sacred, nothing is completely beyond evil, and nothing is definite. I watched the tower collapse hundreds of times yesterday. The various news channels played it over and over again. From a variety of angles. And heres the thing: every time I saw it I said the same thing, aloud or in my head: I cannot believe this. I could not get it through my head that the buildings had come down. I could not get it through my head that the New York City skyline, so loved and beautiful, would forever be changed.
My sister works right in the area of the WTC and saw what happened through her office window. My father was actually talking to her on the phone when the second plane slammed into the tower. She told me later it was the loudest thing shed ever heard and that fear gripped the entire office in its mighty fist and brought about what only fear-of-death can: pure inhibition. People screamed and cried and fled. My sister is a rather grounded person. But when I talked to her later, as she was making her way home, I heard a tremble and terror in her voice I've heard only once before (when another family member found someone who had passed away in their apartment) and I never want to hear it, from her or anyone else, again.
Horrific stories abound: A woman was in her kitchen and saw one of the planes fly parallel to her apartment. She moved with the plane and watched, in horror, as it made contact with the tower. People were witness to desperate individuals jumping from the buildings. The news, amazingly, showed this. And I have to say it was one of the most heartbreaking and terrifying things Ive ever seen. Others were talking on cell phones, getting in one last I love you to a relative before dying.
It was, simply, the worst day in the citys history. Maybe even the worlds history. With the crash at the Pentagon, the death toll will exceed that of Pearl Harbor. I recently read an article where the writer said the purpose of all this revisiting-World-War-II stuff was to make us feel bad because we didnt know loss and war. Well, now we do know, I guess. Were also in a tighter spot because we cant just fly planes up over a country and drop Fat Man and Little Boy. First we have to find out who did it. And even if we do confirm our suspicions, then we have to find them. The state of war in this world right now makes WWII look gentlemanly.
I guess you could say it was the worst of times and the best of times. When the first tower caved in no one expected it. Camera crews, reporters and civilians were sitting ducks for what was about to happen. With a frightening speed the building came down and blew up a monstrous, ever-growing cloud of debris and glass. It looked like a volcano had just erupted. Everyone ran for their lives, but the debris-cloud was faster and they were engulfed instantly. They couldnt breathe or see. It was total confusion. The stories we hear from these people are a small glimmer of light in an otherwise pitch-black situation. They helped each other. Simple sentence. But true. On that day everyone was selfless. Strangers grabbed each other and saved each others lives. People were hauled into buildings and cars and carried off the street. Ive already confessed my love for New York, and if someone asked me why, I can point to what these people did for each other as a reason.
The loss of life, still not close to estimation, is horrendous. Bodies are being pulled out of the rubble right now. And even though there were a few stories of rescue workers being pulled out alive, I think little hope remains in our hearts.
My sister knew many people, obviously, around that area. Buildings she normally went to for conferences and the like no longer exist. Friends are missing and presumed dead. Cops we know are mourning their brave fellow officers who gave their lives for others.
We must all take a second and bow our heads to the firefighters, EMS, police officers and all other rescue personnel. These men are an inspiration. Their willingness to sacrifice themselves is nothing short of astounding and something for the rest of us to live up to. The loss, however, of firemen, police officers and Port Authority workers is devastating. Up to three hundred firemen are missing and possibly two hundred lost their lives. As we know, when the tower collapsed they were inside.
I cant say I have much to write on the cowards who did this. Im still not over the loss and to give any space of my mind to them, I feel, is giving too much. Im not full of bloodlust right now, only sadness, but I do hope Americas retribution is massive, decisive and swift. It wont bring any warmth to my heart, but it must be done and I cant say theres not a small itch at the base of my brain that wants to see it happen.
I was never in the thick of the situation yesterday, only glued to my TV for sixteen hours straight, but I do know people who were victims of this most heinous and craven act. Im not a religious man, but my thoughts are with all those who died and, especially, those who survived or those who are survived by someone who is no longer with us.
Ill admit I can be of no help, and I am just an Internet writer with an absurd job, but if anyone wants to talk or write just drop me a line at darwinmayflower@yahoo.com.
Sadly life must move on. As I said before, Im hesitant to do so because I never want to forget what happened, never want it to fade to memory. But it must, as much as that hurts. Ill probably leave my house for the first time in over twenty-four hours today. Ill take a walk. And see everything that Ive seen a million times before. Will it look different? Yeah, I think so.
-- Darwin Mayflower
Yeah, I know. Whats up with the serious stuff on a screenwriting web site? Well, I cant help it. I needed to say something and this is really the only forum I have. So bear with me. Or skip this whole thing. But let me indulge myself.
Ive lived in New York my whole life. Most say that with an air of pride. And so do I. I love my city. I love its sights and sounds, its pulse, its mystique and its people. Everyone calls their own city the best in the world, but I think New York makes a strong case for itself.
I remember as a kid coming to the city for the first time. And gazing up with awe and fear at the buildings that towered even over the huge-to-me adults. They seemed almost from a different planet in their size and look and perfection. It would be later, when I was a little older, that I would respect these redoubtable edifices for the work that had gone into them. Im not a man who builds himself, but sitting and contemplating the architectural majesty of these places was a favorite activity of mine.
And that was what was hardest for me yesterday. Seeing those buildings crumple. It was like watching ones hero shown to be human. It can happen! Nothing is sacred, nothing is completely beyond evil, and nothing is definite. I watched the tower collapse hundreds of times yesterday. The various news channels played it over and over again. From a variety of angles. And heres the thing: every time I saw it I said the same thing, aloud or in my head: I cannot believe this. I could not get it through my head that the buildings had come down. I could not get it through my head that the New York City skyline, so loved and beautiful, would forever be changed.
My sister works right in the area of the WTC and saw what happened through her office window. My father was actually talking to her on the phone when the second plane slammed into the tower. She told me later it was the loudest thing shed ever heard and that fear gripped the entire office in its mighty fist and brought about what only fear-of-death can: pure inhibition. People screamed and cried and fled. My sister is a rather grounded person. But when I talked to her later, as she was making her way home, I heard a tremble and terror in her voice I've heard only once before (when another family member found someone who had passed away in their apartment) and I never want to hear it, from her or anyone else, again.
Horrific stories abound: A woman was in her kitchen and saw one of the planes fly parallel to her apartment. She moved with the plane and watched, in horror, as it made contact with the tower. People were witness to desperate individuals jumping from the buildings. The news, amazingly, showed this. And I have to say it was one of the most heartbreaking and terrifying things Ive ever seen. Others were talking on cell phones, getting in one last I love you to a relative before dying.
It was, simply, the worst day in the citys history. Maybe even the worlds history. With the crash at the Pentagon, the death toll will exceed that of Pearl Harbor. I recently read an article where the writer said the purpose of all this revisiting-World-War-II stuff was to make us feel bad because we didnt know loss and war. Well, now we do know, I guess. Were also in a tighter spot because we cant just fly planes up over a country and drop Fat Man and Little Boy. First we have to find out who did it. And even if we do confirm our suspicions, then we have to find them. The state of war in this world right now makes WWII look gentlemanly.
I guess you could say it was the worst of times and the best of times. When the first tower caved in no one expected it. Camera crews, reporters and civilians were sitting ducks for what was about to happen. With a frightening speed the building came down and blew up a monstrous, ever-growing cloud of debris and glass. It looked like a volcano had just erupted. Everyone ran for their lives, but the debris-cloud was faster and they were engulfed instantly. They couldnt breathe or see. It was total confusion. The stories we hear from these people are a small glimmer of light in an otherwise pitch-black situation. They helped each other. Simple sentence. But true. On that day everyone was selfless. Strangers grabbed each other and saved each others lives. People were hauled into buildings and cars and carried off the street. Ive already confessed my love for New York, and if someone asked me why, I can point to what these people did for each other as a reason.
The loss of life, still not close to estimation, is horrendous. Bodies are being pulled out of the rubble right now. And even though there were a few stories of rescue workers being pulled out alive, I think little hope remains in our hearts.
My sister knew many people, obviously, around that area. Buildings she normally went to for conferences and the like no longer exist. Friends are missing and presumed dead. Cops we know are mourning their brave fellow officers who gave their lives for others.
We must all take a second and bow our heads to the firefighters, EMS, police officers and all other rescue personnel. These men are an inspiration. Their willingness to sacrifice themselves is nothing short of astounding and something for the rest of us to live up to. The loss, however, of firemen, police officers and Port Authority workers is devastating. Up to three hundred firemen are missing and possibly two hundred lost their lives. As we know, when the tower collapsed they were inside.
I cant say I have much to write on the cowards who did this. Im still not over the loss and to give any space of my mind to them, I feel, is giving too much. Im not full of bloodlust right now, only sadness, but I do hope Americas retribution is massive, decisive and swift. It wont bring any warmth to my heart, but it must be done and I cant say theres not a small itch at the base of my brain that wants to see it happen.
I was never in the thick of the situation yesterday, only glued to my TV for sixteen hours straight, but I do know people who were victims of this most heinous and craven act. Im not a religious man, but my thoughts are with all those who died and, especially, those who survived or those who are survived by someone who is no longer with us.
Ill admit I can be of no help, and I am just an Internet writer with an absurd job, but if anyone wants to talk or write just drop me a line at darwinmayflower@yahoo.com.
Sadly life must move on. As I said before, Im hesitant to do so because I never want to forget what happened, never want it to fade to memory. But it must, as much as that hurts. Ill probably leave my house for the first time in over twenty-four hours today. Ill take a walk. And see everything that Ive seen a million times before. Will it look different? Yeah, I think so.
-- Darwin Mayflower
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