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September 28, 2004

This Isn't Kansas Anymore

I just got back in town, and I have tons of stories to share. The thing that has been on my mind most, however, has been all of the hurricanes hitting Florida where my Mom is. Her home has been thoroughly damaged, the roof collapsed, my old bedroom is destroyed and gone. The one thing found from my room that was okay was a picture of little Greta and I that used to be on the dresser.

A lot of people who live in Florida don't have power right now. It's difficult to get calls through, because many of the phone lines are down. My Mom did get through once to say that my family was safe. On the way back to New York in the plane, I watched CNN showing the town in Florida where I spent my teenage years getting hit by torrents of rain and wind bending the trees this way and that. Nature is a powerful thing.

The boardwalk is completely gone. The one in Stuart by the water. The one by the old theater that little Gret and I would run down to and have our lunches. The one that my Mom and I would often picnic at year after year. We would sit there for hours, watching the birds and the tide come in, telling stories and eating the homemade ice cream from the shop down the street.

I felt sad hearing those places and things were gone. It was kind of like when my Grandma's Japanese garden that I loved so much was destroyed by new owners. As sad as I was, the garden will always live in my memory, where no one can touch it. And the boardwalk, and my room how it used to be are now safe there, too.

I'm just thankful that my family and friends are okay. I just got off the phone with my mom this morning and the roof that had been fixed a day before Hurricane Jeanne landed is now half in the pool in the backyard and half in the front yard. My Mom has lived five different places over the past month - evacuating as far as Georgia with my Grandma, then later over to the west coast of Florida. She has a few of her favorite possessions sitting on the dashboard of her car, as she's been pushed from place to place because of the hurricanes hitting. She taking it all in stride, working hard to just make things right again. And as my Grandma said, "At least the people are okay, because the things are only things in the end." Those two women are my heroes.

Mark has been working with his fire-fighter teams, surveying damage, and helping others. He said that driving through places around where they live looks like a warzone. A lone television sitting in the middle of the road. Signs wedged into trees. People's personal possessions strewn everywhere for miles and miles.

I've spent the morning trying to arrange a flight to go down and help them rebuild as much as I can. Those times volunteering for Habitat for Humanity are coming into play now! And at the very least, with Grandma's oven still standing, I can bake up some mean cupcakes as we picnic in the rubble of it all.

I'm so very thankful you are all safe. I can't wait to give you huge hugs.

Keep up the fight.

I love you guys so much.

Posted by Veronica at 09:43 PM

September 11, 2004

Remembering

Three years ago at this time, we were still innocent.

Today is a hard day.

The above picture is one I took out of my side window at my apartment on a beautiful sunset in July of 2001.

When I first got to New York City in 1998 and was going to college, I made my living working as a tour guide on the double decker buses. New York City has always been a love story for me. Full of history and stories, poetry and bustling life. It was a place I dreamed of coming to for forever. After being here for years, I never lost my wide-eyed innocence of the city. I worked the tour buses, crusing the circles and streets of the city over and over each day. It was during this time, I immersed myself even further into the structure of the city. The buildings were my friends, in a time when I was lonely - I had their stories and their history to build around me and comfort me.

On Summer nights, I used to sit with my legs dangling out of my window, wishing on the red blinking light on top of the second tower of the Twin Towers. It's hard to see stars in the city sky, so I would look towards the peacefulness of the blinking red light on that tower. It was the highest point in the skyline of the city. I imagined that everytime the soft red light blinked, a wish would come true to all of the dreamers who looked out their windows in the city.

Three years ago, they were evacuating us. I was crossing the Williamsburg Bridge on foot with hundreds of other people when I heard that tower with the blinking light fall behind me. I knew what the sound was. I knew the second tower had collapsed. I didn't even want to turn around and look. I leaned against the railing with people that I didn't know and we all cried.

I got my things together and went back to the nearest trauma hospital to the towers to volunteer. I will never forget that day. We waited and waited for them to come in. Anyone. Someone we could save. The firefighters returned with eyes bloodshot from liquid glass. A man from the Ironworkers Union, a big man, came to me looking for his friends. They had all rushed into the towers to save people, the towers started to collapse as he was helping people out. He got seperated from his friends and couldn't find them. I held him in my arms for a really long time. The world changed that day.

The next day their faces were everywhere. Posted on missing person posters lining the city streets. I wrote down their names in my journal. I didn't want them to be lost. Writing their names down was my way to try and fight against death.

I wasn't going to write anything today. It was just really hard. But this morning, I passed by Engine Company 33, who lost many brave men to September 11th. I sat there, across from the firehouse at 7:30 this morning, when I saw moms and little kids walking in, families of the fallen firefighters. I knew I had to say something here. Something for them. For Michael Boyle, for David Arce, for Shannon Fava...for so many others.

My heart goes out to you that have lost loved ones. My heart goes out to the fallen heroes and the people that lost their lives three years ago today. I wish there was something I could have done.

I will never forget you.

Posted by Veronica at 10:41 AM