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Word Trade Center Killing Grounds

I have been sitting here for three hours trying to find a way to begin this blog entry. Where should I start? How do I bring it all up again? There are some things you don’t ever want to recall. Forcible recall is treacherous.

Yesterday, for the first time since September 11, 2001, I returned to the killing grounds of the World Trade Center. I returned, not by choice, but by the happenstance of mass transit. In my GO INSIDE Magazine article, Celebrate the Dead, Mourn the Living I reflect on what the World Trade Center meant to me and to a city. I have been uninterested in returning to “Ground Zero” because I have no interest in gawking at the empty space where once stood giants.

Yesterday, I had a meeting in downtown Manhattan and I decided to jump on the PATH train and get off at the WTC stop. Now, “WTC” has always meant “World Trade Center” even when it was not operable for four years, but WTC has always been a destination, and not a place, in the minds of many who ride the PATH every day. The recently re-opened WTC stop on the PATH brought the end-of-the line back to Manhattan proper and, I while I was prepared to get off at the WTC stop, I was unprepared for what I was about to witness.

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12/7/41/9/11/01

by Steve Gaines

between what might otherwise have been
an arbitrary date in December nineteen forty-one
and another in September two thousand and one
the world has turned at an inconstant rate
sometimes at peace
sometimes not

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Crossing of the Lines

by Guy Lerner

In this time of contrast and conflict, where experiences that repulse and rejoice live side by side, the lines that keep right and wrong apart are dangerously entangled. Never has this been clearer than in the days and weeks following the senseless acts of violence by man on man in New York last September.

This may read to you like rehashed sentiment, but I’m not talking about the evils of terrorism or the heroism of the millions who revolted, united, against it. What I saw was hardly sensational; it didn’t make any headlines, wasn’t cited as a crime against humanity, barely fuelled a protest. But it was real all the same.

* * * * *

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A View From Poland

by Jorg Mutz

I don’t remember how many times I saw the same fragment: A man who suddenly looks up and says the memorable four-letter word which should be the only comment on what happened. Dead or alive, the man became a vital part of a new era. Conspiracy of evil surfaced and declared open war against “the bold and beautiful” (“cowardly and ugly,” in Muslims’ eyes).

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My Twenty-Third Psalm

by Tammy Tillotson

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” Psalm 23:5

December 28, 2001 was an important occasion. It was my twenty-third birthday and also the first time I flew in an airplane since the terrorist tragedies.

The Shadows of Death
I hesitantly planned this trip in November and, as the official take-off date crept closer, I nearly decided to cancel the flight and catch a Greyhound. In the end, a bus would have been cheaper, yet it would have taken two days longer to arrive at my destination. Living on a bus for half of my already short vacation was not my idea of feeling comfortable. I was going to fly. Yet, an internal debate and discussion raged between my logical and irrational fears and emotions.

This hesitancy over air travel was entirely out of character for me. I considered myself to be a somewhat seasoned and unique traveler, as I had flown at least a few dozen times. My last several flights had even been international ones. After much contemplation, I did not change my travel plans. As long as I felt afraid of flying, I recognized that the terrorists had successfully taken away part of my freedom. I wanted to regain that freedom.

Despite the still recent shadows of death, I was determined not to be fearful. I decided that the goal of my entire trip would be to find examples of everyday heroes, who despite their doubts, were still endeavoring to light the way as shining examples of people who were truly proud to be Americans.

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