Today is my 100th post, and it's also the 5-year anniversary of 911. I think it's kinda fucked up to call 911 an anniversary, since anniversaries are usually fun events. Believe me, as someone who witnessed 911 first hand, it was anything but fun.
Two things stand out in my mind from that horribe, horrible day.
Several hours after the towers fell, hundreds of people were crowded on Houston Street carrying pictures of their lost loved ones. Because the falling towers spared no one, and the hospitals were empty, these poor souls had nowhere to go, and thus, were desperately trying to get their photos on the television cameras. I will never forget the look in these grieving and sad eyes as they pushed their pictures at the cameramen. Never.
In the days after 911, every business, house and building in my Manhattan neighborhood had American flags flying. That is, every building but one - a Muslim mosque on my corner. Months before the attacks, my Israeli boyfriend would walk by the mosque and utter..."I wonder what those motherfuckers are in there planning."
I guess he was right.