Friday, Sept. 14, 2001

I wish someone could tell me this week has been a really bad dream.

My mom is "stuck" Ireland since planes still aren't flying into New York's airports--not to mention I'm not sure of the current status of non-U.S. International flights in general. I'm not sure when she'll be able to get home. I assume she's safe though. And that's more important than her getting home ASAP.

I didn't get out of work tonight until 10:15, so I took the company's car service home. The driver was Middle Eastern. I later learned he was from Pakistan. I was actually somewhat afraid to get in the car, but told myself I shouldn't be so prejudice. But then--can anyone blame me for not being just a little bit reluctant about it? There's all this talk of terrorism...and it's a terrorist's job to blend with the crowd. Anyway, as I talked with him, he seemed very, very sweet, and I gradually overcame my fear. But when we got to my destination, and he told me to hold on a minute, rolled down the window and opened the glove box, I got nervous again. (I just had to sign the billing receipt!)

The city looks very, very sad. There's still lots of smoke rising up where the Twin Towers once stood. I keep replaying the events of Tuesday in my head and realized how much I detached myself from them as they were happening. I remember calling Joe and leaving messages for him on the answering machine that used the same tone I might have used to call to say I was going to be late coming home, or "Call me back I need someone's phone number," at best. I caught a glimpse of the first tower turning itself into a massive dust pile and I gasped in horror. But it hits harder as the time passes. So many were stuck in there. So many more were trying to help them out. They're all gone now.

Unless by miracle of all miracles there really are some people trapped but safe far below the surface. New Yorkers in particular still have so much hope there will be survivors. It doesn't matter what the odds are. There's always hope. There's reason to believe there's hope.

Joe had the day off Thursday and caught up on his sleep. Then he headed down to the Financial District at night with his brother, who is an iron worker, with the hopes of relieving others who might have been tired from working all day. I must say I was disappointed to hear Joe report that many workers don't feel like the efforts are very organized. Yeah, they've removed more than 10,000 tons of steel since Tuesday--that's nothing to be ashamed about--but they need more cranes, more equipment, and they don't have it yet. No one seems to be running the show.

There's the sense that so many people are there to lend a hand. I'm just a little concerned that businesses aren't helping enough. Where are the corporate donations? Why hasn't Home Depot or Sears promised the buckets and work gloves and shovels that these workers need?

I've been told that things like port-a-johns are scarce. Yet when news crews reported that bottled water was among the supplies needed, they received loads of it stacked taller than 5 feet! Hooray for the people and the small businesses coming through on things like that.

I past a fire truck Wednesday covered in ash and debris and a memorial for one of the many firefighters killed by fire and crumbling skyscraper. Many inscribed "Thank You" or "We'll never forget" or "In memory"-type sayings with their fingers in the dust on that truck.

It was so bizarre and eerie seeing army trucks cruising down an otherwise empty Seventh Avenue Tuesday night. But my heart sank when I saw that fire truck. And I sighed with sadness tonight, in the car crossing the 59th Street Bridge, looking out the window back at the city lights--noticing the huge hole in the skyline. I venture to guess there's a hole equivalent in size in the hearts of those mourning those they lost there.

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