Sandra and I have traveled to NYC every year
since 2008. Even though we often find ourselves in Lower Manhattan for a walk
around Battery Park (not to mention the obligatory shopping trip to retail
shrine, Century 21), we have never visited the 9/11 memorial. We have our
reasons, of course, and chief among them is a desire to pay our respects far
away from long, snaking lineups of tourists waiting in 90F heat. We also steer
clear of the even more annoying hucksters that ply the area, hawking September
11th souvenirs, like maps, T-shirts and other memorabilia. 9/11 has already
been marketed to death and we see the result everyday: we have watched the
creation and implementation of myriad new security systems, institutions and
practices; we are forced to adhere to stupid rules and regulations in airports
(as if Osama bin Laden is alive and well and hiding in our toothpaste); we are
implored to 'remember' by purchasing all sorts of commemorative crap sold on
television; and what's left of our privacy bends over in the name of national
security. Thanks, Osama. And Rummy. And Wolfy. And that Dick Cheney.
We remember that morning in 2001 all too well;
even though we watched it unfold on TV we now have a very clear and personal
appreciation of how that event forever changed our favourite city - and our
friends & family who call New York home. We knew we would one day
remember and reflect in our own way at Ground Zero; we simply were never in any
great hurry.
As yesterday was our last day in NYC and since we
happened to be in the area (Century 21...mea culpa), we decided to finally
visit the Pools of Reflection. Line-ups are now a thing of the past,
thankfully, as passes and security screening are no longer required. Besides,
you can look down on the pools from the surrounding office buildings as well as
the observation deck of the new One World Trade Center. The pools are massive
square waterfalls situated on the footprints of what were the North and South
towers of the WTC. The names of the dead are engraved around the perimeter of
each pool. As expected, there were many visitors lost in deep and emotional
reflection in the park-like setting. I found the pools to be both haunting and
disturbing. If this was the intent, the designers succeeded: the water pours down
from all 4 sides, then flows - or rather drains - into a large square void in
the centre of each pool, falling into a black, unseen nothingness. Into
forever. Gone.
Many believe that the full story of 9/11 must be
viewed through the prism of US foreign policy. I tend to agree, although I also
believe indoctrinated and unreasonable douche bags flying planes into the Twin
Towers at the behest of other indoctrinated and unreasonable douche bags is a
pretty shitty and cowardly way to make your point. It's 'dirty pool', as they
say - the dirtiest, really - and many innocent people died during that game.
Sorry you bozos, but you failed spectacularly (see marketing of 9/11, above).
There are those as well who will point to the suffering and death that stains our
world, and that 3000 lives are nothing compared to the tens of thousands who
die unnecessarily every day. It's a spurious argument and insensitive in the
extreme. One is too many, anywhere, in any circumstance.
Our visit was not about politics. It was
about the names engraved on the edges of the pools. Mothers, fathers, sisters,
brothers; wives, partners, husbands, sons and daughters. They went to work one
day and fell into a black unseen nothingness. Into forever. Gone. I hold them
responsible for nothing more than being in the right place at the worst
possible time. Choose: burn to death or jump to death. Hell's oceans are a
contaminated slurry of confused politics and twisted ideology.
As we wandered around the pools, checking out the
very international collection of names, scattered among the reverential were
groups of seemingly brainless tourists posing - yes, posing - in front of the
pools like they were at the goddam Eiffel Tower or Empire State Building ('is
this my good side?' No. Your good side is behind you, just below your waist). I
mean, like, seriously. There they were, in what is essentially a public
cemetery, getting into position and smiling for the cameras, smartphones and
tablets. Imagine: the 9/11 memorial site as bucket list item to be ticked off
the been-there-done-that check box. I know: Sandra and I were tourists, too,
and my righteous indignation may come off as more than a little hypocritical.
So be it. I took no photos and stared at the black void.
Ok, I lied a little. I did take a number of
photos but the only images I shot were of the gleaming new One World Trade
Center standing tall, or, as a good friend remarked today, raised like a giant
middle finger with a message to those that would see it, too, knocked down. I
never saw the original Twin Towers in person; like many millions, I only saw
them fall. The images I took today are my way of celebrating fresh, powerful
and iconic architecture, while keeping alive the spirit of the original towers
- and the people who worked and died there.
