| John Voelcker’s letters are his own observations about life in NY following the events of September 11th, 2001. Written without foreknowledge of the times ahead, they provide insight into events that many of us are destined to remember as mere TV images long after the raw emotions of the day have faded into the past. The letters are a glimpse into life in the shadow of ‘ground zero’, in the days immediately following the WTC attack. Beyond the headlines. I am privileged to have John’s permission to publish them here. |
I’m struggling to put together a September 11 letter this year: 9/11 + 25 seems like an occasion that deserves one. But I don’t really know what to say about it that hasn’t been said before.
It was awful.
Every year, the commemorative ceremonies lead the news, with the aging families of the dead gathered at Ground Zero. This year aside, the ceremonies are less and less newsworthy.
Every year, the Tribute in Light public art display shines two closely spaced beams of light up to 4 miles into the night sky, before and on 9/11 to honor those who lost their lives. On a clear night, it’s visible up to 60 miles away.
Every year, more emergency responders and area residents sicken and die from an array of cancers from the toxins in the air. Just days ago, our new mayor released long-sought documents that show the city knew about the dangers at the time—and lied about them.
And yet … life goes on.
The Yoot, the new arrivals, and turnover
Estimates based on city turnover statistics suggest only about 25 percent of the 8.6 million people living in NYC today were here during 9/11. More than half the city’s residents arrived after 2001; more than a quarter of its population wasn’t even born then; and there’s always turnover in big cities as new residents arrive while others depart.
In that sense, I’m a relic: a person who was there then.
The New York Times did a piece on how younger people view 9/11 [GIFT LINK], interviewing nearly three dozen people 26 years old or less about what the anniversary meant to them. Though they were alive, neither of the reporters who did the story has any memory of 9/11.
“Young people across the country have watched their parents and teachers turn stony and quiet year after year on Sept. 11. Still, for them, the day feels more like a chapter of history than a part of their lives, the way they imagine Pearl Harbor or the Vietnam War must have felt for the generations before them.”
Life goes on.
What it was, then
In 2001, I was 42, working at the third of five startups in my so-called career. When the first plane hit, I was on a side street, headed to a 9 am meeting in our “lower conference room,” aka Starbucks. Down Sixth Avenue, I saw a wisp of smoke coming from a high floor of the North Tower. Several people were looking south; I asked one what happened. “Oh, a plane flew into it,” she said. Everyone assumed it had been a small plane.
My meeting was well underway when, around 9:40 am, the Starbucks staff abruptly announced the store was closing. “You have to evacuate now.” Confused, I walked back up to our office. Looking south, I just saw smoke.
As I walked into the office, I found the entire staff gathered around a radio. Seconds later, the announcer said—in a tone I’d never heard on news radio—that the second tower was collapsing. That was when it hit. This was a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions.
Two days later, the second sentence of my 9/13 letter was, “Bodies and body parts are being taken to New Jersey ice rinks on barges.”
But the third paragraph noted that streets north of 14th Street would reopen, as would Broadway shows and museums. “It seems important that we stick it out and work to get life and business underway again,” I wrote. The life of NYC is business—and that resumed, haltingly.
For a snapshot of the mood of NYC two weeks after 9/11, watch the SNL opener on September 29. It’s no longer on SNL’s YouTube page, so here it is on Instagram. Watch the faces of the invited audience of first responders throughout Paul Simon singing “The Boxer.” (Ten years later, he sang “The Sounds of Silence” at the Ground Zero ceremony.)
I find it hard to watch that clip. And I have ZERO desire to visit the National September 11 Memorial and Museum at Ground Zero, which is apparently now a mandatory stop for tourists, along with the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and so forth. The last time I walked past the site, I was surprised how tall the trees are now.
Life goes on.
What it is, now
The city now is far, far removed from the one I moved to 45 years ago. It’s much cleaner, remarkably safer, and immensely more expensive.
Global capitals don’t disappear due to acts of war, or natural disasters; they mostly wane due to changing trade patterns. New York City remains the center of many worlds: It’s still a hub of business, finance, the arts, and more. At least it is today. I regret I’m unlikely to see what it becomes in another 45 years.
Five years after that day, I quoted my father, who suggested this series of 9/11 letters was a way to make sense of what happened and how I experienced it. That seems right. Now, 25 years of hindsight let me view my reactions to 9/11—shock, grief, loss, depression—as much greater arcs in my life.
Trauma breaks some people; everyone else stumbles ahead, scarred and in pain, but still vertical. I’ve lived through coming out; a gay-bashing that left me with a brain injury and a new face; the deaths and horror of the AIDS epidemic, so little remembered today; my failure to save someone’s life while bodysurfing; the suicide of a boyfriend; the 9/11 attack; and more.
To quote Sondheim, “Good times and bum times / I’ve seen ‘em all and, my dear / I’m still here.”
That applied to NYC then, it applies to NYC now. Life goes on.
Final notes
First, this week has brought a predictable deluge of commentary on What It All Means 25 Years Later. I’ve not seen anything I felt was worth adding—but I do want to comment on our new, young mayor. He’s brought to NYC politics something missing for many years: a sense this city is to be celebrated, for its diversity and creativity and the essential joy of living here—despite all the hardships—and for the allure it continues to exert all over the world.
Zohran Mamdani is also a practicing Muslim. To quote Garrett Graff, “the attacks on the ‘fitness’ of Mamdani to attend this week’s commemorations of 9/11 are as a nakedly bigoted attack as we’ve seen in recent US politics.” If you’re a Boston Globe subscriber, his paywalled op-ed is here: “Twenty-five years after 9/11, to be Muslim in America is to be suspect”
Second, my friend Chris Barrett of Alberta, Canada, posted my series of 9/11 letters on his blog. I’ve lost touch with Chris, but the Wayback Machine has the first 10 years archived. If you want to revisit, they’re at https://web.archive.org/web/20160131093159/http://gnusworld.com/9-11-11.html
Finally, this may be my last letter in the series. I’m not sure what else there is to say. I chose three photos that—for me—sum up the before and the after. As always, feel free to circulate this if you know people who might be interested. Comments welcomed. Thanks for reading over the past 25 years.
Love, jv.