Olympus-OM
[Top] [All Lists]

RE: [OM] Re: (OM) (OT) Observations from NYC

Subject: RE: [OM] Re: (OM) (OT) Observations from NYC
From: "Timpe, Jim" <Jim.Timpe@xxxxxxxxx>
Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001 06:13:15 -0700
Wow...

-----Original Message-----
From: Rick Beckrich [mailto:RBeckric@xxxxxxxxxxxx]
Sent: Wednesday, September 12, 2001 5:33 AM
To: olympus@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [OM] Re: (OM) (OT) Observations from NYC


This was forwarded to me by Ken Gossett who does our
addressing and lettershop work....


Ken this is a note from my neighbors daughter

Today 
 of been my second day back in the office since my vacation in
Mexico.

When I woke up this morning, I still didn't feel in the work groove, so I
left about 15 minutes late.  When I got off the A train and began walking
down Fulton Street, I noticed everyone was lined on the sidewalks looking
in
the opposite direction.  I looked back and saw a crane and heard
ambulances,
so I just assumed that a workman had an accident or a Wall Street-type was
getting ready to jump.

Ten seconds later, a loud boom sounded.  Everyone began running in my
direction down Fulton Street.  It looked like and then felt like Godzilla
had landed.  I turned the corner and decided to go to my office.  I got up
in the elevators and made it to the 23rd floor of 160 Water Street when
every one pushed me back and told me on the ride down that the noise I
heard
was a second plane crashing.

We stood on the corner next to our office and watched the flames pour out
of
both buildings just five blocks away.  The metal on the World Trade towers
was pulled back and slivered and looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree.
Ash and debris were blowing at us. On the street, everyone was on their
cell
phones trying to get a signal.  After about two minutes we all decided it
was time to get the hell out of there.

At 9:15 a.m., I walked north to the Brooklyn Bridge.  I've never seen so
many people on the bridge - not even during a Walk-for-This or a
Walk-for-That-a-thon.  Women were crying "I just want to get home to my
baby" as we continued to get our heels stuck in between the bridge's
pedestrian walkway 2x4's.  One third of the way over, and elderly black
gentleman decided to befriend me and began telling me about the last World
Trade bombing.  We speculated about what might have happened as everyone
continued to march over the bridge hitting the redial buttons on their cell
phones.  About 1/2 way over the bridge, a man began yelling that the
Pentagon had been bombed.

That's when it all became too real to me.

I worked in the Pentagon in the early 80's.  I was around when they blocked
off the busses from running under the building.  I was around when security
checkpoints were added.  We joked about working at Ground Zero, but it was
just an occupational hazard.  Working for people who would die for their
country was cool back then.

By the time I made it to the end of the bridge, another loud boom sounded.
It couldn't have been another plane.  When we turned to look through the
smoke, it appeared the top of one of the towers had fallen, but none of us
were sure.

I said goodbye to my bridge buddy at the Jay Street subway station.  I was
ready to park my ass on a subway and get home to drink beer.  One Snapple
and one stop later, all train service had been suspended.

When I came above ground, the soot and smoke was following me home.  I
walked a couple blocks down Smith Street and realized that my stomach was
in
knots and I had to get to a bathroom.  I turned into the Rite-Aid and the
few people that were in the store were standing and listening to a radio
report describing the conditions of the towers.  The bathroom was closed.
Several doors down I stopped into a super market (super meaning 8 aisles
which is big for Brooklyn) and the guys took pity on me w/my briefcase and
let me go to the basement to use their employee bathroom.

Slightly rejuvenated, I headed back out only to discover the smoke was
worse.  I walked down Baltic past the Gowanus Housing project.  Kids had
bandanas over their noses and mouths.  Any other day, I would assume they
were off to rob someone.  Today they did it to keep the soot out.

When I hit Third Avenue I turned and joined an army of financial district
comrades who were walking zombies like me.  Ambulances rushed by, cars
honked, and we were the walking, living dead.

I turned up President Street, walking up the hill to my Park Slope
neighborhood.  The soot continued to blow and a black haze was beginning to
creep further into Brooklyn.  I passed an elderly woman who was keeping
occupied by sweeping the sidewalk in front of her brownstone.  In a typical
Brooklyn accent, she commented to me, "You know, it is December 7th!"

My dad was born December 7th and was drafted for World War 2.  I turned and
looked down the hill.  I couldn't see lower Manhattan at all.  I wondered
what he would think about all this if he were alive.  I remember being
young
and him saying, in a very Archie Bunker way, "Those slant-eyed bastards."
Who could we blame it on today?

I finally made it up to 7th Avenue and turned right.  The kids were playing
in the elementary school playground.  Life appeared to be normal here,
except the sidewalks were packed for a weekday.  Two blocks later, I
decided
to stop into Tarzian Hardware and pick up a flag pole.  When I walked in,
the young workers were all huddled watching the TV.  "We should run up to
the hospital and donate blood," they commented as they watched the carnage.
I walked straight past and looked for the flag poles.  I wanted to be
media-ignorant for as long as possible.  The store was out of flag poles.

Outside the hardware store, I passed three black kids in standard hip-hop
clothing yelling "fucking Arabs."  Yeah, if my dad were alive today, I bet
that's what he'd be saying too.

I continued down 7th Avenue and noticed a middle-aged eagle scout in full
Boy Scout regalia holding a poster board sign which said "Please Give
Blood."  I took the detour into New York Methodist Hospital and lost my
shit
in the lobby.  There were lines of people volunteering.  I wiped away the
tears, filled out the forms, was told to return in two hours.

Six more blocks and I'd finally be home.  I stopped at another hardware
store and it was closed, so I continued on.

I got home at noon and immediately called my mother.  She cried and said
they have all been trying to get through to me.  I then talked to my friend
from Vegas, my brother, and my sister-in-law.  My phone was bound to ring
all day, so I just decided to get online and write.  I still don't want to
watch the TV and I don't want to know what happened.  At least not yet.

I sit here drinking a beer realizing that on any other day, freedom after
work would mean taking my panty hose and bra off.  Today it has a different
meaning.

Now I'm going to take a curtain rod and take my father's retirement flag
and
hang it outside.  If he were alive, I think that's what he would do.

+=+=+=+
Marna Bunger
September 11, 2001
1:00 p.m.

< This message was delivered via the Olympus Mailing List >
< For questions, mailto:owner-olympus@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx >
< Web Page: http://Zuiko.sls.bc.ca/swright/olympuslist.html >

< This message was delivered via the Olympus Mailing List >
< For questions, mailto:owner-olympus@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx >
< Web Page: http://Zuiko.sls.bc.ca/swright/olympuslist.html >


<Prev in Thread] Current Thread [Next in Thread>
Sponsored by Tako
Impressum | Datenschutz