If you are new to the blog, then welcome! Stay a while. Wanted to share a story with you:
I was working at The Most Caffeinated Place in Soho yesterday, and overheard this from a fellow barista:
"Yeah, [The Most Merciful Anointed One, Messiah] Obama is going to set a timeline for Iraq. Remember when he wanted to do it a few years ago, and everyone said he was crazy? Well, now McCain and Bush are both calling for it. And [The Most Merciful Anointed One, Obama] is also going to make us energy independent in ten years!"
He was telling a customer this, who apparently had made the mistake of either asking or referring to politics. I just smiled. I felt almost overprepared, as I pondering just going straight into him with the fact that The Most Merciful Anointed Messiah Obama's timeline is a piece of crap, and his energy independence plan has as much substance as the movie I watched a few days ago.
However, I resisted. I do realize, though, that I'm going to have to speak up pretty soon. Emmy Turnbow asked me last night when I was going to light up The Most Merciful Anointed Messiah Obama, and after a brief pause, I replied, "Soon."
There's a lot I don't like about him. I used to like the guy, at least personally, but thought he was the wrong choice for president. Now? It's a character thing. I think The Most Merciful Anointed Messiah Obama has some serious character flaws, and deep down, I believe he's not a very good person. Why am I telling you this? Just as a teaser.
BUT... it's September 11th today. And as I usually do a post that remembers this day, I don't have time for original material, as I'm headed to The Happiest Place in the Mall. But for you new Clouds in My Coffee readers, or you people who may have missed it, I wanted to give you some links to my 9/11 blogs in the past.
2005:
"Thoughts on THAT Day", a reflection on how I learned of the attacks. In Part II, you'll read about my trip to Ground Zero in 2002.
2006:
In "Five Years Later: Today's Thoughts", I listed some of my favorite 9/11 tributes and memorials.
A few days later, I posted "Five Years Later: Where Were Some of You?", where I asked for, and received, some personal thoughts from some friends of mine, including Brooklyn, P-Mack, Matta Latta and more.
2007:
And this year, I posted one of my favorite posts ever, "Rebecca Miller & the Divine Do-Over". This was not so much about September 11th, as more of an admission of grace, and how God lets us do things again. I thought it fitting.
Hopefully, if elected, The Most Merciful Anointed Messiah Obama will let us do things over again. Like pay taxes over and over. Exciting, huh!
Showing posts with label Ground Zero. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ground Zero. Show all posts
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
"102 Minutes"... Dave's Book Review
Finished a book recently, so I wanted to share it with you fine people.
Anyway, the book is called "102 Minutes" and its by Jim Dwyer and Bill Flynn. The book is an account of what went on inside the World Trade Center towers at 846am, when Tower 1 was hit, and 1028, when both towers had fallen, and the 102 minutes in between.
It uses interviews of survivors and eye witnesses, taped recordings and transmissions and histories gathered to give dozens of stories in the book. You see the story of Frank di Martini and Pablo Ortiz, two engineers in the building that had many chances to get out, but chose to continue upward to help people find a way down. They perished in the tower. Richard Fern, who had every bit of luck--or God's help--getting down, as in finding the correct staircases right away, or getting the one elevator in the building that worked, right before it stopped working.
There is the story of Ed Beyua, who had a medical condition that kept him in a wheelchair on the 27th floor, and his friend Abe, who could have left at any time, but stayed with Ed because they knew that help would come... and it did only when firemen saw them... and a breakdown in communications led some to think that others had Ed and Abe taken care of. Both perished when the tower collapsed. Considering they were on the 27th floor, and even running down the stairs for you and I would take ten minutes, and they were 900 feet below where the plane had hit, that leads us to the most disturbing part of the book.
Because of the 1993 WTC bombing, there was much anamosity between the FDNY and the NYPD over who should do what, and who should get the glory for what. This broken relationship, which should have been repaired, only furthered to deteriorate. That explains why there were dozens of new high tech radio systems in the trunks of some police cars, unused, and why joint training sessions between the two departments when highly unattended. Thats also why the police didn't try to rescue people off of the roof during the brief momentary window they had, or why there were up to 200 firemen in the North Tower, many on one floor taking a breather, getting water, unloading gear, when it fell--even though they had a warning of a few minutes that it would almost certainly collapse. No communication.
The book also goes into a brief history along the way, telling how the towers got built, and the edge-of-reproach way that the fire codes were skirted, making the first part of the building a monumental, almost indestructable section, while the top was flimsy, with sprayed on fireproofing material, and inconvenient--and it turned out deadly--exit and staircase system. But the people is what will get you. There is a list in the back of people, people accounted for in the book that perished somehow in the towers, or in Tower 7, the Marriott hotel in between 1 and 2. Everytime I read a new name, I would flip to the back to see if they made it. Sometimes they did... sometimes they didn't, and when they didn't, you would read on to determine how they died. Sometimes in the blaze. Sometimes from jumping. Sometimes you'd read their last phone call to their loved one.
Overall, the book is excellent and reads very easily. Highly recommended. Its due in paperback sometime this month (January) so look out for it, shell out the $15 and sit and read.
Anyway, the book is called "102 Minutes" and its by Jim Dwyer and Bill Flynn. The book is an account of what went on inside the World Trade Center towers at 846am, when Tower 1 was hit, and 1028, when both towers had fallen, and the 102 minutes in between.
It uses interviews of survivors and eye witnesses, taped recordings and transmissions and histories gathered to give dozens of stories in the book. You see the story of Frank di Martini and Pablo Ortiz, two engineers in the building that had many chances to get out, but chose to continue upward to help people find a way down. They perished in the tower. Richard Fern, who had every bit of luck--or God's help--getting down, as in finding the correct staircases right away, or getting the one elevator in the building that worked, right before it stopped working.
There is the story of Ed Beyua, who had a medical condition that kept him in a wheelchair on the 27th floor, and his friend Abe, who could have left at any time, but stayed with Ed because they knew that help would come... and it did only when firemen saw them... and a breakdown in communications led some to think that others had Ed and Abe taken care of. Both perished when the tower collapsed. Considering they were on the 27th floor, and even running down the stairs for you and I would take ten minutes, and they were 900 feet below where the plane had hit, that leads us to the most disturbing part of the book.
Because of the 1993 WTC bombing, there was much anamosity between the FDNY and the NYPD over who should do what, and who should get the glory for what. This broken relationship, which should have been repaired, only furthered to deteriorate. That explains why there were dozens of new high tech radio systems in the trunks of some police cars, unused, and why joint training sessions between the two departments when highly unattended. Thats also why the police didn't try to rescue people off of the roof during the brief momentary window they had, or why there were up to 200 firemen in the North Tower, many on one floor taking a breather, getting water, unloading gear, when it fell--even though they had a warning of a few minutes that it would almost certainly collapse. No communication.
The book also goes into a brief history along the way, telling how the towers got built, and the edge-of-reproach way that the fire codes were skirted, making the first part of the building a monumental, almost indestructable section, while the top was flimsy, with sprayed on fireproofing material, and inconvenient--and it turned out deadly--exit and staircase system. But the people is what will get you. There is a list in the back of people, people accounted for in the book that perished somehow in the towers, or in Tower 7, the Marriott hotel in between 1 and 2. Everytime I read a new name, I would flip to the back to see if they made it. Sometimes they did... sometimes they didn't, and when they didn't, you would read on to determine how they died. Sometimes in the blaze. Sometimes from jumping. Sometimes you'd read their last phone call to their loved one.
Overall, the book is excellent and reads very easily. Highly recommended. Its due in paperback sometime this month (January) so look out for it, shell out the $15 and sit and read.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Thoughts on 9/11, Part II
We continue with what was written in September 2002, a year after the 9/11 attacks. I had just gotten back from NYC--and Ground Zero--a month prior.
‘I give you this one though to keep, I am with you, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glint on the snow.
I am as sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain when you awaken in morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft starts that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone,
I am with you still in each new dawn.’ ”
--Brittany Clark, 11, reading a tribute to her father who was last seen helping a handicapped woman on the 88th floor of Tower 1.
We had been in New York City for eight days now, and were two days from heading home. The trip had been tiring, exhausting, but so rewarding and such a learning experience. I hate clichés, but that’s really the only way to describe it.
On this particular day, we had one task at hand. We had been scheduled to travel down to Manhattan to the First Nazarene Church, where we would meet up with the pastor and get some information on the Festival of Life. The Festival of Life was an upcoming (then it was, it’s already passed now) festival with musicians, speakers and the Gospel of Christ being shared. All we had to do was to take a handful of fliers, which were just postcards with info on both sides, and hand them out around Ground Zero and Battery Park.
For those of you unfamiliar with the area, as I was, Battery Park is the southern tip of Manhattan, close to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, across from Staten Island. Right above Battery Park is the financial district, Wall Street and the Stock Exchange area. To the northwest was the World Trade Center, both towers, and the seven other buildings that make up the WTC. Just so you know, the two towers were only part of the Center itself. There’s your history lesson.
"I was so overwhelmed that day that I couldn't watch anything... My aunt was in NY that day on business... that day they were in the building across the street. The smoke and heat and debris of the first crash literally pushed them out of the building. They were running down the street with t-shirts covering their faces. They looked back to see people jumping out of the towers before they got to Battery Park. This too will be a day to live in infamy. This is our Pearl Harbor. I still haven't figured out what that means for me yet.”
--Kasie Moser, Samford University
We arrived in the Trade Center area, which was weird, because there was this big patch of open clear beautiful blue sky where I know some buildings should have been. I had on my backpack, Erin had hers, we all had a handful of fliers ready to hand out. But as we got closer to the site, it became apparent to me that fliers weren’t even something I was going to be thinking of.
Going to Ground Zero… it didn’t necessarily excite me. Maybe it made me anxious, because we live in Alabama, and though we saw everything live on television, it still seemed like a world away. As we walked closer to the site, I began to recognize stores and shops that I had seen on TV, on specials, in pictures. The Century 21 Department Store building, the Famous Pizza sign on Broadway, things like that. The first thing we saw was the Memorial Wall, a fence that circled a church, a fence covered in things… I began to walk a little faster, ahead of everyone.
The area known as Ground Zero is surrounded by a maybe-seven foot fence, and most of the fence is covered in a black tarp. There are holes in the tarp, apparently where someone had torn through to see, but you still couldn’t see much. On the eastern side, however, is a platform with an uncovered high chain link fence set up for people to view the site. Because you can’t see Ground Zero, or the land itself, from the direction we were walking, the first thing that is noticeable is the high buildings around it, one of which, I am guessing One Liberty Plaza, is completely covered in a black tarp. I’m talking maybe 50 or 60 stories, covered in black. On the far side is another building (Dow Jones, if I’m right) which looks to be in use, with a roof that looks heavily damaged.
I was way ahead of everyone in our group, but it didn’t matter to me. I was ready to see this area. I somehow almost felt like I needed to see it, to piece together what I had witnessed on television to real life. I rounded the corner and came to the viewing platform to see Ground Zero, the site of where the two tallest buildings in the western hemisphere had once been. It was awe inspiring.
"I was, of course, in the best place to be, at church. Still in shock but comforted at the same time. Quietness was in abundance and time for reflection also. I don't think anyone in the office thought anything of any of us stopping to weep and pray for those families and rescue workers who were directly affected. I know that we have all been indirectly affected by the 9-11 attack and that life as we knew it is forever changed. [But we are reminded] God can take anything and use it for His glory."
--Lynn Nipp, Pastor’s Admin. Asst. Valleydale Baptist Church
The hole that was in the ground was indescribable. In addition to the two towers, also destroyed were the Marriott Hotel that sat between 1 and 2, and then World Trade Buildings 5, 6 and 7. So the land obviously had to be big enough for all of these buildings to reside on… and there was even a courtyard in the middle. But they all came down into this big hole, which was the “basement” of the World Trade Center, including shopping areas, restaurants and other office spaces.
The hole I stared at was at least 5 stories deep, and—I’m only estimating—a couple of football fields wide and long. There were 6 billion pounds of steel and wreckage when the buildings came down… it filled the hole I was looking at, and rose above it 7 stories. That’s at least 12 stories… 140 feet… high of stuff. Steel. Metal. Wood. Bodies. Computers. Chairs. Papers. Desk lamps. Counter tops. Pencils. Filing cabinets. Not only was it 140 feet high… the pile was probably a good ¼ to ½ mile in circumference. I never imagined it would be so big.
To be a fireman, or a rescue worker, going to the pile, pulling out stuff bucketfuls at a time… I can’t imagine it. I just can’t put it into my mind how they did it. Just seeing the emptiness of this pit, closing my eyes, and imagining what I saw on television actually being in a crater this size… it takes my breath away and breaks my heart into pieces.
Finally, I couldn’t look at Ground Zero anymore… it was just too much. I walked back towards the Memorial Wall, pulling out my fliers. I tried handing them out with very little luck… because I’m sure they didn’t want to be bothered, I managed to give out one for every ten rejections and pass bys I got. I made my way to the wall… and this is where it finally all hit me at one time.
“My AP physics teacher turned off the TV after a long time of watching, after the pentagon was hit, after hearing about the plane in Pennsylvania. He started to talk to us--mentioning that "if you're a Christian in this room right now, you need to be praying...” That was very bold to say in a public high school. Three girls grabbed their bibles and asked if they could have permission to go in the hall to talk - they went, I followed. I didn’t really know them. One simply asked, "You want to pray with us?" "Yeah." I remember getting tired of the people talking on the radio about it. I drove without any radio or music a lot of times after 9-11, just praying.”
--Tammy McLeod, Then a High School Senior
The church that sat in the middle… I don’t remember the name of it… I have been racking my brain, but I can’t remember the name of it… of this wall was closed. The sign in the front read something like, “This church was a command post and triage for the wounded during the attacks on September 11th. We are now closed to repair and make renovations following the attacks, and will reopen (it gave a date I don’t remember).” The fence that was around it was a tall, iron fence, and the church and fence made up the entire block.
"Working for the Red Cross, it was no time until our donor center was filling up with people wanting to donate blood. Here in Alabama, donating blood was therapeutic and gave people a way to feel like they were helping their fellow man. By lunchtime a long line had formed and people were patiently waiting to donate. As the afternoon progressed the line grew even longer. At one point the wait to donate was 5-6 hours but no one seemed to mind."
--Tad Roose, American Red Cross
I walked to the front of the block, the site of the first area that I had seen when I initially walked up, and began to look at the things on this fence. I was drawn to this fence… I put the fliers in my backpack (I’m sorry Fish, I didn’t do my job… please forgive me) and began to study this fence more closely.
There was a note from a little girl to her dad who had died in the Tower collapse. It said something like, “Daddy, I miss you.” And was written in crayon, laminated to survive the outdoor air.
There were thousands of paper cranes there. A school in Japan wrote, “The paper crane is our symbol of peace and healing. The crane was first created by a woman suffering from the effects of the bomb in Nagasaki, and throughout the century, has meant so much to so many people. We have made 7,000 paper cranes, one for each of your dead and your wounded in New York City.” And the cranes were everywhere.
There was a newspaper clipping of a young guy who had died, and how much his sister misses him
There was, of all things, a plastic mold of a seahorse, the kind you’d use in the sand on the beach. It sat in front of a ceramic angel, now faded and worn, chipped on the wings.
There was an Irish flag there, with the words “Ireland loves NYC! We are praying for you all!”
There was a poem there from a son to a father, who died in the crash
There was a letter from a wife to a husband who was aboard one of the plans.
There was a Mormon Bible there, inscribed to someone who was killed
There was a stuffed rabbit there, with a white coat, now brown from dirt and dust, from being outside so long. The fur was rough feeling, but the rabbit was very squeezable.
There were many I Love NY t-shirts, all with different things written on it, with signatures from California, Alaska, Mexico, Georgia, Japan and many other places.
And a fireman’s helmet, just hanging there on the fence. Nothing else with it, just a fireman’s helmet.
Crosses. Toys. Trinkets. Necklaces. Baby booties. Pictures. Frames. “Missing” photos. It was all there. I looked at a large wooden cross for several minutes, and then tears began to form. A light tap on my shoulder came from Fish, who was walking by. She saw me… I don’t know what she thought I was doing, but somehow I think she understood how taken in I was by all of this. She talked with me for a minute, asking me if I would go across the street to Office Depot and pick up a few things. She spoke very softly, very gently, as if not just in reverence for the lost lives represented on this wall, but almost seemingly out of respect for me, because she could see on my face that this was really hitting me hard.
Fish gave me a reassuring smile, a small squeeze on the shoulder and she walked past me. I turned back to the cross I was in front of, and a tear trickled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away… was it okay to cry in front of all these people? I mean, some of these people were taking pictures in front of the wall, like it was tourist attraction or something (which totally inflamed me)… could I cry? I think it wasn’t a matter of whether I should or not. I knelt down in front of the cross, took my backpack and laid it under me, and placed my hands on the iron fence and on the curb. I began to pray, and I prayed for at least twenty minutes right there. And as I prayed, the tears flowed. For the families, for the little girls who lost their mommies, for the little boys who lost their daddies, for the parents who lost their little boys and girls, no matter the age… for the lost, for the saved, for the entire area. I prayed for the survivors and their families, and the victims not just in New York, but Washington and Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
"[It didn’t hit me] until I was watching the news where all the people were crowding around with pictures of their loved ones, screaming for them, screaming for anyone to help them find them. Knowing deep in my heart that they were probably dead. That's when I cried. That's when I sobbed for 20 minutes or longer. I'll never forget their faces, or their urgent pleas. "My son, he was a window washer on the 102nd floor of the World Trade Center, Tower 2. If you see him, please call. . . ." "My husband. We have a little boy. . . please, please, if anyone has seen him, please call me." Here we are, a year later, and I know that I'll never forget the images I saw over and over again. I'll never forget some of those faces. I'll never forget President Bush's face when he found out, or the comforting words he gave out to the nation."
Stephanie Campbell, Atlanta, Georgia
Finally, I stood up and wiped my eyes. Behind me, I heard several people taking pictures… it would be arrogant to think they were taking pictures of me praying, but it’s possible. I didn’t even see anyone I knew, except for that brief moment with Fish, for another few hours. So I was able to walk the block… I was told to walk the block, from God I believe, and prayer walk. And so that was my afternoon… I won’t dive into that, because that goes into a whole other story…
I’ll stop now. I didn’t know quite how to end this, but I think I’ve found it. It addition to the comments Tammy McLeod sent me above, she included an excerpt from her journal, written on 9/11/2001. And it’s a fitting way to end this email, to end this letter to you guys.
"God, You are such a mighty and awesome God. I thank You for the peace You give me and everyone who trusts in You. I pray for the victims and their loved ones. I can’t pretend to know their suffering and pain. But You've not given me or anyone else more than we can handle. I’m glad that nothing surprises You. Thank You for the promise of working everything out for the good for those who love You. forgive me for all my ignorance - please stop me from making this simply an emotional time - I pray that I will be an effective Christ follower so that the people around me will see You in the midst of their uncertainty and questioning. I love you...”
Tammy McLeod’s journal
Thoughts on 9/11 Part II
“This poem makes me feel like my daddy is speaking to me.
‘I give you this one though to keep, I am with you, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glint on the snow.
I am as sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain when you awaken in morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft starts that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone,
I am with you still in each new dawn.’ ”
--Brittany Clark, 11, reading a tribute to her father who was last seen helping a handicapped woman on the 88th floor of Tower 1.
We had been in New York City for eight days now, and were two days from heading home. The trip had been tiring, exhausting, but so rewarding and such a learning experience. I hate clichés, but that’s really the only way to describe it.
On this particular day, we had one task at hand. We had been scheduled to travel down to Manhattan to the First Nazarene Church, where we would meet up with the pastor and get some information on the Festival of Life. The Festival of Life was an upcoming (then it was, it’s already passed now) festival with musicians, speakers and the Gospel of Christ being shared. All we had to do was to take a handful of fliers, which were just postcards with info on both sides, and hand them out around Ground Zero and Battery Park.
For those of you unfamiliar with the area, as I was, Battery Park is the southern tip of Manhattan, close to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, across from Staten Island. Right above Battery Park is the financial district, Wall Street and the Stock Exchange area. To the northwest was the World Trade Center, both towers, and the seven other buildings that make up the WTC. Just so you know, the two towers were only part of the Center itself. There’s your history lesson.
"I was so overwhelmed that day that I couldn't watch anything... My aunt was in NY that day on business... that day they were in the building across the street. The smoke and heat and debris of the first crash literally pushed them out of the building. They were running down the street with t-shirts covering their faces. They looked back to see people jumping out of the towers before they got to Battery Park. This too will be a day to live in infamy. This is our Pearl Harbor. I still haven't figured out what that means for me yet.”
--Kasie Moser, Samford University
We arrived in the Trade Center area, which was weird, because there was this big patch of open clear beautiful blue sky where I know some buildings should have been. I had on my backpack, Erin had hers, we all had a handful of fliers ready to hand out. But as we got closer to the site, it became apparent to me that fliers weren’t even something I was going to be thinking of.
Going to Ground Zero… it didn’t necessarily excite me. Maybe it made me anxious, because we live in Alabama, and though we saw everything live on television, it still seemed like a world away. As we walked closer to the site, I began to recognize stores and shops that I had seen on TV, on specials, in pictures. The Century 21 Department Store building, the Famous Pizza sign on Broadway, things like that. The first thing we saw was the Memorial Wall, a fence that circled a church, a fence covered in things… I began to walk a little faster, ahead of everyone.
The area known as Ground Zero is surrounded by a maybe-seven foot fence, and most of the fence is covered in a black tarp. There are holes in the tarp, apparently where someone had torn through to see, but you still couldn’t see much. On the eastern side, however, is a platform with an uncovered high chain link fence set up for people to view the site. Because you can’t see Ground Zero, or the land itself, from the direction we were walking, the first thing that is noticeable is the high buildings around it, one of which, I am guessing One Liberty Plaza, is completely covered in a black tarp. I’m talking maybe 50 or 60 stories, covered in black. On the far side is another building (Dow Jones, if I’m right) which looks to be in use, with a roof that looks heavily damaged.
I was way ahead of everyone in our group, but it didn’t matter to me. I was ready to see this area. I somehow almost felt like I needed to see it, to piece together what I had witnessed on television to real life. I rounded the corner and came to the viewing platform to see Ground Zero, the site of where the two tallest buildings in the western hemisphere had once been. It was awe inspiring.
"I was, of course, in the best place to be, at church. Still in shock but comforted at the same time. Quietness was in abundance and time for reflection also. I don't think anyone in the office thought anything of any of us stopping to weep and pray for those families and rescue workers who were directly affected. I know that we have all been indirectly affected by the 9-11 attack and that life as we knew it is forever changed. [But we are reminded] God can take anything and use it for His glory."
--Lynn Nipp, Pastor’s Admin. Asst. Valleydale Baptist Church
The hole that was in the ground was indescribable. In addition to the two towers, also destroyed were the Marriott Hotel that sat between 1 and 2, and then World Trade Buildings 5, 6 and 7. So the land obviously had to be big enough for all of these buildings to reside on… and there was even a courtyard in the middle. But they all came down into this big hole, which was the “basement” of the World Trade Center, including shopping areas, restaurants and other office spaces.
The hole I stared at was at least 5 stories deep, and—I’m only estimating—a couple of football fields wide and long. There were 6 billion pounds of steel and wreckage when the buildings came down… it filled the hole I was looking at, and rose above it 7 stories. That’s at least 12 stories… 140 feet… high of stuff. Steel. Metal. Wood. Bodies. Computers. Chairs. Papers. Desk lamps. Counter tops. Pencils. Filing cabinets. Not only was it 140 feet high… the pile was probably a good ¼ to ½ mile in circumference. I never imagined it would be so big.
To be a fireman, or a rescue worker, going to the pile, pulling out stuff bucketfuls at a time… I can’t imagine it. I just can’t put it into my mind how they did it. Just seeing the emptiness of this pit, closing my eyes, and imagining what I saw on television actually being in a crater this size… it takes my breath away and breaks my heart into pieces.
Finally, I couldn’t look at Ground Zero anymore… it was just too much. I walked back towards the Memorial Wall, pulling out my fliers. I tried handing them out with very little luck… because I’m sure they didn’t want to be bothered, I managed to give out one for every ten rejections and pass bys I got. I made my way to the wall… and this is where it finally all hit me at one time.
“My AP physics teacher turned off the TV after a long time of watching, after the pentagon was hit, after hearing about the plane in Pennsylvania. He started to talk to us--mentioning that "if you're a Christian in this room right now, you need to be praying...” That was very bold to say in a public high school. Three girls grabbed their bibles and asked if they could have permission to go in the hall to talk - they went, I followed. I didn’t really know them. One simply asked, "You want to pray with us?" "Yeah." I remember getting tired of the people talking on the radio about it. I drove without any radio or music a lot of times after 9-11, just praying.”
--Tammy McLeod, Then a High School Senior
The church that sat in the middle… I don’t remember the name of it… I have been racking my brain, but I can’t remember the name of it… of this wall was closed. The sign in the front read something like, “This church was a command post and triage for the wounded during the attacks on September 11th. We are now closed to repair and make renovations following the attacks, and will reopen (it gave a date I don’t remember).” The fence that was around it was a tall, iron fence, and the church and fence made up the entire block.
"Working for the Red Cross, it was no time until our donor center was filling up with people wanting to donate blood. Here in Alabama, donating blood was therapeutic and gave people a way to feel like they were helping their fellow man. By lunchtime a long line had formed and people were patiently waiting to donate. As the afternoon progressed the line grew even longer. At one point the wait to donate was 5-6 hours but no one seemed to mind."
--Tad Roose, American Red Cross
I walked to the front of the block, the site of the first area that I had seen when I initially walked up, and began to look at the things on this fence. I was drawn to this fence… I put the fliers in my backpack (I’m sorry Fish, I didn’t do my job… please forgive me) and began to study this fence more closely.
There was a note from a little girl to her dad who had died in the Tower collapse. It said something like, “Daddy, I miss you.” And was written in crayon, laminated to survive the outdoor air.
There were thousands of paper cranes there. A school in Japan wrote, “The paper crane is our symbol of peace and healing. The crane was first created by a woman suffering from the effects of the bomb in Nagasaki, and throughout the century, has meant so much to so many people. We have made 7,000 paper cranes, one for each of your dead and your wounded in New York City.” And the cranes were everywhere.
There was a newspaper clipping of a young guy who had died, and how much his sister misses him
There was, of all things, a plastic mold of a seahorse, the kind you’d use in the sand on the beach. It sat in front of a ceramic angel, now faded and worn, chipped on the wings.
There was an Irish flag there, with the words “Ireland loves NYC! We are praying for you all!”
There was a poem there from a son to a father, who died in the crash
There was a letter from a wife to a husband who was aboard one of the plans.
There was a Mormon Bible there, inscribed to someone who was killed
There was a stuffed rabbit there, with a white coat, now brown from dirt and dust, from being outside so long. The fur was rough feeling, but the rabbit was very squeezable.
There were many I Love NY t-shirts, all with different things written on it, with signatures from California, Alaska, Mexico, Georgia, Japan and many other places.
And a fireman’s helmet, just hanging there on the fence. Nothing else with it, just a fireman’s helmet.
Crosses. Toys. Trinkets. Necklaces. Baby booties. Pictures. Frames. “Missing” photos. It was all there. I looked at a large wooden cross for several minutes, and then tears began to form. A light tap on my shoulder came from Fish, who was walking by. She saw me… I don’t know what she thought I was doing, but somehow I think she understood how taken in I was by all of this. She talked with me for a minute, asking me if I would go across the street to Office Depot and pick up a few things. She spoke very softly, very gently, as if not just in reverence for the lost lives represented on this wall, but almost seemingly out of respect for me, because she could see on my face that this was really hitting me hard.
Fish gave me a reassuring smile, a small squeeze on the shoulder and she walked past me. I turned back to the cross I was in front of, and a tear trickled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away… was it okay to cry in front of all these people? I mean, some of these people were taking pictures in front of the wall, like it was tourist attraction or something (which totally inflamed me)… could I cry? I think it wasn’t a matter of whether I should or not. I knelt down in front of the cross, took my backpack and laid it under me, and placed my hands on the iron fence and on the curb. I began to pray, and I prayed for at least twenty minutes right there. And as I prayed, the tears flowed. For the families, for the little girls who lost their mommies, for the little boys who lost their daddies, for the parents who lost their little boys and girls, no matter the age… for the lost, for the saved, for the entire area. I prayed for the survivors and their families, and the victims not just in New York, but Washington and Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
"[It didn’t hit me] until I was watching the news where all the people were crowding around with pictures of their loved ones, screaming for them, screaming for anyone to help them find them. Knowing deep in my heart that they were probably dead. That's when I cried. That's when I sobbed for 20 minutes or longer. I'll never forget their faces, or their urgent pleas. "My son, he was a window washer on the 102nd floor of the World Trade Center, Tower 2. If you see him, please call. . . ." "My husband. We have a little boy. . . please, please, if anyone has seen him, please call me." Here we are, a year later, and I know that I'll never forget the images I saw over and over again. I'll never forget some of those faces. I'll never forget President Bush's face when he found out, or the comforting words he gave out to the nation."
Stephanie Campbell, Atlanta, Georgia
Finally, I stood up and wiped my eyes. Behind me, I heard several people taking pictures… it would be arrogant to think they were taking pictures of me praying, but it’s possible. I didn’t even see anyone I knew, except for that brief moment with Fish, for another few hours. So I was able to walk the block… I was told to walk the block, from God I believe, and prayer walk. And so that was my afternoon… I won’t dive into that, because that goes into a whole other story…
I’ll stop now. I didn’t know quite how to end this, but I think I’ve found it. It addition to the comments Tammy McLeod sent me above, she included an excerpt from her journal, written on 9/11/2001. And it’s a fitting way to end this email, to end this letter to you guys.
"God, You are such a mighty and awesome God. I thank You for the peace You give me and everyone who trusts in You. I pray for the victims and their loved ones. I can’t pretend to know their suffering and pain. But You've not given me or anyone else more than we can handle. I’m glad that nothing surprises You. Thank You for the promise of working everything out for the good for those who love You. forgive me for all my ignorance - please stop me from making this simply an emotional time - I pray that I will be an effective Christ follower so that the people around me will see You in the midst of their uncertainty and questioning. I love you...”
Tammy McLeod’s journal
Thoughts on 9/11 Part I
Can you believe its been 4 years since the 9/11 attacks? Like the Challenger explosion, Princess Diana's death, and for older people, the moon landing and JFK's funeral, this is one of those rare events where everyone remembers where they were when it all began to unfold.
I wrote the following essay below, in two parts, and I want to add a third part later this week about my re-visit to Ground Zero about a month ago. When 9/11 happened, I attempted to write some things... but nothing made sense. A year later, I finally was able to produce my thoughts on paper; mind you, this was before I dated Stephanie, this was before I worked at NBC, this was in the midst of The Deuce, so this was a long time ago. So, here we go...
Oh, the rhetoric we are thrown this week… “Tuesday morning began as such a beautiful day…” “Everything seemed so normal on Monday…” “Our lives would change forever on that day…” But here’s the crazy thing… it’s all true. Tuesday morning was a perfect day. Monday was your typical Monday. And nothing would be the same.
To spare you from what you’ll hear over and over and over today and tomorrow and in the next few days, I want to share with you a few different things. I want to give you my Tuesday morning. And then I want to share with you my Wednesday afternoon that occurred eleven months later. These are my thoughts… maybe they ramble, maybe they are boring… but I wanted to share. The stats I have come from USAToday.
I work at 1069 the Point and 973 Oldies, but last September, it was Oldies 106.9, and down the hall was Rock 97.3. Rob and Shannon premiered on Monday on the 106.9 station, stolen from up the hill at Magic 96. I had already me t both of them, and had applied—and been granted—an internship with their morning show. The first day was really hard, being there at 5:45, answering phones, telling people where Burt and Kurt went (the old morning show, now you can find them on 101.1 The Source in the afternoons), telling people about Rob & Shannon, talking on the air some, being introduced as SuperDave. Katy still calls me that… I like it.
I’d been at Cox Radio for almost three months, I was still learning my way around, still learning my place. My computer was old, the only person I knew really was Michelle Carr, then the national sales assistant, and she was even kind of intimidating, because she was tall and knew everyone and everything much more than I did. I made it through the morning show, Rob and Shannon made it through the show as well, and I came back to my desk to work on Alabama Football packages. I didn’t know Katy. I didn’t know Lori. I barely knew Tammy McLeod, Jason Demastus and knew nothing of Alex and Erin and Melanie and the Shades church up the hill.
Tuesday morning, I awoke at 5:30 am, got into the shower and headed to work. Rob & Shannon’s second day on the air, one of today’s big features was that a guy from San Francisco was going to call in about pricing records. He’s a big vintage record expert, and we were going to invite listeners to call in with their records to be priced. I found out my vintage “The King and I” soundtrack album, with the Deborah Kerr and Yul Brenner cover, was worth about 18 dollars.
At 8:50am, the phone rang, and I answered it… it was Ericka Woode, our lovely midday host, also stolen from Magic 96. She was letting me know that since 8:46am, the World Trade Center had been on fire, and that we should turn on the television in the studio. We did, and Rob began to announce over the air that the tower was on fire, and that this was something that everyone needed to watch. We played another song, as Rob, Shannon and I were talking about it, and then at 9:02, Rob was on the air again.
Shannon and I stood transfixed on the TV, watching this image of the tower burning, knowing now it was a jet that had crashed into the side. Rob began to say, “Folks, if you are not hearing the news, it appears that a plane has crashed into the side of one of the buildings…” when I noticed a small image in the background of the TV getting bigger. I pointed it out to Shannon, who said “That looks like a plane.” The image got bigger and bigger and then, on live TV, crashed into the other tower. It was surreal… the people on the news on ABC were quiet for just a few seconds, and then people were screaming, with the newscaster yelling, “Oh my God! A plane has just hit the second tower!”
Shannon and I gasped, as Rob was also quiet for just a moment. “Folks, we have just seen history… another jet has gone into the World Trade Center. You need to turn your television on right now!” Suddenly, everything was different.
The phones began to ring off the hook, the program director came running in the studio, the new director began to go ballistic, pulling every news story he had to put this on the air. Within an hour, we were directed to go straight to news and news only, as every Cox Station joined a news feed. We then began to answer phones, finding out information, answering questions to what we knew, being clueless to what we didn’t know.
At 9:59, on live TV again, I saw the South Tower began to shake and then fall.
At 10:28, I saw the next tower come down.
I was in New York City in 1998, and had visited those towers. I didn’t go to the top, but stood outside looking at their might, their majesty. They were 1,300 feet tall, straight up in the air. I was 5’7, with a straining neck, not able to see the top the closer I got to the base of the buildings. In 102 minutes, the world I knew had gone from pricing records to seeing both of the World Trade Towers collapsed. And I had no clue how to react to that. It was surreal. It wasn’t happening. This was a movie, this was a disaster movie from the 70s starring William Holden and Shelley Winters.
I answered phones for most of the morning, but then just grew weary… I got tired of people saying the same things over and over, asking the same unanswerable questions over and over… I just wanted to go be somewhere else. I tried logging on to the news sites but they were jammed. I remember ESPN.com, my favorite site, having a small picture in the corner with the announcement “North tower struck by plane”. After the South tower was hit, the entire site was devoted to the coverage.
There are several things I will never forget…
The smoke from the first tower
The plane slamming into the next tower
The shrieks of the news people when the second jet hit
And that video of the man with the towel…
I saw video of a man hanging out the window of the North Tower, the first one struck, waving a white towel. He was close to the top of the building, maybe the 90the floor or so… he had no chance. The rescue helicopters couldn’t get to the roof, the firemen couldn’t get past the 90th floor, where the jet hit. He was just waving his white towel… I saw a firefighter later talking about it. He was in tears, simply saying, “This man… wanted us to help him… but there was nothing… there was nothing we could do…”
200 people packed into the 78th floor lobby of the South Tower. They are all there, some going up, some going down, because they were told that the tower was secure. It was that floor, the 78th, that was sliced in half when American Airlines Flight 175 rammed through it. 200 people were there. 12 survived. Twelve people out of two hundred survived the left wing of a plane flying 417 miles per hour slicing through the floor they stood on, waiting for an elevator.
Another thing I can’t imagine is the desperation… being on the 100th floor, knowing you are going to die. Knowing you can’t go down. Knowing you can’t go up. So… you jump. I’ve seen video of this as well… and it’s haunting. What do you do? An estimated 212 people died by jumping. But you have to think that there were scores more that we’ll never know about that found a way to die without jumping… stabbing themselves, hitting themselves, maybe helping each other die somehow. Maybe taking an overdose of Benadryl in a co-workers office to knock you totally out.
I went home that day during lunch, sat in my room and cried. My tears flowed for a few minutes, watching the television, watching the people running around, scared, hurt, lost… watching the thick smoke, watching the fires blaze out of control. When I went back into work, I stopped at a gas station… already, gas prices were rising because of gas shortage fears. There, I ran into a college friend of mine, Donna Tucker.
Donna is my height, very pretty, very plucky and perky. She graduated a few years after me at TSU, but we knew each other instantly, and gave each other a hug. “How are you?” she asked. “Oh, I’ve seen better days. It’s been crazy today,” I replied. “Yes, I know.” We chatted for a few more minutes, about the past, about life and other things… I think God sent Donna that day to me, because for four minutes, I knew nothing about New York City, I knew nothing about Washington DC, I knew nothing about Flight 93 in Pennsylvania… I only knew of Donna and her life, her husband and how she was doing. It was a break from reality, even if ever so brief.
Rudy Giuliani made a good point… we’ll never know all the heroes. Of course, we know the firemen, the rescue workers, the police officers… but there must have been so many people who died we’ll never know of. Those people who helped usher people down the stairs just in time. Those people who gave up spots on the elevator, just in time for someone to be saved. Or maybe those people who helped comfort those others, when they all knew they were going to die. I’d like to think I’d have been that person.
Reflecting back, I’d like to think I’d have been th,e person to stand up and say, “People, Christ loves you. In a few minutes, you’ll have to stand before God, but right now, you can make a decision to live with him forever!”… but I am afraid I might have been the guy (this actually happened, according to reports) who told a lady trying to get on the elevator in front of him, “Lady, this isn’t the Titanic, woman and children aren’t first.” Who would I have been? It scares me to think about.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence for me. Usually, my cd player at my desk blares out whatever music I’m in the mood for, but not today. Many people in my office left early to go to their families. I called my mom and told her I loved her. I went home, and as cheesy as it sounds, I was really happy to see Michael, Tom and Shawn there. It was a comfort zone, and right then, on that day, I didn’t want to be challenged with anything. I wanted to be with people I cared about, and it was a relief to see them.
At Bible Study last night, John’s main point was to say there are no accidents. You can say this was or wasn’t the will of God, but you have to know that despite the devastation, so many people know Christ. So many people have heard the gospel. So many people are going to spend eternity with him as a result of September 11th. You can say, “Why would God sacrifice so many to save others?” but you know what, I don’t have an answer. I don’t have a clue. I do know though, that God uses everything for His glory and His purpose.
I wrote the following essay below, in two parts, and I want to add a third part later this week about my re-visit to Ground Zero about a month ago. When 9/11 happened, I attempted to write some things... but nothing made sense. A year later, I finally was able to produce my thoughts on paper; mind you, this was before I dated Stephanie, this was before I worked at NBC, this was in the midst of The Deuce, so this was a long time ago. So, here we go...
Thoughts on 9/11, Part 1
Oh, the rhetoric we are thrown this week… “Tuesday morning began as such a beautiful day…” “Everything seemed so normal on Monday…” “Our lives would change forever on that day…” But here’s the crazy thing… it’s all true. Tuesday morning was a perfect day. Monday was your typical Monday. And nothing would be the same.
To spare you from what you’ll hear over and over and over today and tomorrow and in the next few days, I want to share with you a few different things. I want to give you my Tuesday morning. And then I want to share with you my Wednesday afternoon that occurred eleven months later. These are my thoughts… maybe they ramble, maybe they are boring… but I wanted to share. The stats I have come from USAToday.
I work at 1069 the Point and 973 Oldies, but last September, it was Oldies 106.9, and down the hall was Rock 97.3. Rob and Shannon premiered on Monday on the 106.9 station, stolen from up the hill at Magic 96. I had already me t both of them, and had applied—and been granted—an internship with their morning show. The first day was really hard, being there at 5:45, answering phones, telling people where Burt and Kurt went (the old morning show, now you can find them on 101.1 The Source in the afternoons), telling people about Rob & Shannon, talking on the air some, being introduced as SuperDave. Katy still calls me that… I like it.
I’d been at Cox Radio for almost three months, I was still learning my way around, still learning my place. My computer was old, the only person I knew really was Michelle Carr, then the national sales assistant, and she was even kind of intimidating, because she was tall and knew everyone and everything much more than I did. I made it through the morning show, Rob and Shannon made it through the show as well, and I came back to my desk to work on Alabama Football packages. I didn’t know Katy. I didn’t know Lori. I barely knew Tammy McLeod, Jason Demastus and knew nothing of Alex and Erin and Melanie and the Shades church up the hill.
Tuesday morning, I awoke at 5:30 am, got into the shower and headed to work. Rob & Shannon’s second day on the air, one of today’s big features was that a guy from San Francisco was going to call in about pricing records. He’s a big vintage record expert, and we were going to invite listeners to call in with their records to be priced. I found out my vintage “The King and I” soundtrack album, with the Deborah Kerr and Yul Brenner cover, was worth about 18 dollars.
At 8:50am, the phone rang, and I answered it… it was Ericka Woode, our lovely midday host, also stolen from Magic 96. She was letting me know that since 8:46am, the World Trade Center had been on fire, and that we should turn on the television in the studio. We did, and Rob began to announce over the air that the tower was on fire, and that this was something that everyone needed to watch. We played another song, as Rob, Shannon and I were talking about it, and then at 9:02, Rob was on the air again.
Shannon and I stood transfixed on the TV, watching this image of the tower burning, knowing now it was a jet that had crashed into the side. Rob began to say, “Folks, if you are not hearing the news, it appears that a plane has crashed into the side of one of the buildings…” when I noticed a small image in the background of the TV getting bigger. I pointed it out to Shannon, who said “That looks like a plane.” The image got bigger and bigger and then, on live TV, crashed into the other tower. It was surreal… the people on the news on ABC were quiet for just a few seconds, and then people were screaming, with the newscaster yelling, “Oh my God! A plane has just hit the second tower!”
Shannon and I gasped, as Rob was also quiet for just a moment. “Folks, we have just seen history… another jet has gone into the World Trade Center. You need to turn your television on right now!” Suddenly, everything was different.
The phones began to ring off the hook, the program director came running in the studio, the new director began to go ballistic, pulling every news story he had to put this on the air. Within an hour, we were directed to go straight to news and news only, as every Cox Station joined a news feed. We then began to answer phones, finding out information, answering questions to what we knew, being clueless to what we didn’t know.
At 9:59, on live TV again, I saw the South Tower began to shake and then fall.
At 10:28, I saw the next tower come down.
I was in New York City in 1998, and had visited those towers. I didn’t go to the top, but stood outside looking at their might, their majesty. They were 1,300 feet tall, straight up in the air. I was 5’7, with a straining neck, not able to see the top the closer I got to the base of the buildings. In 102 minutes, the world I knew had gone from pricing records to seeing both of the World Trade Towers collapsed. And I had no clue how to react to that. It was surreal. It wasn’t happening. This was a movie, this was a disaster movie from the 70s starring William Holden and Shelley Winters.
I answered phones for most of the morning, but then just grew weary… I got tired of people saying the same things over and over, asking the same unanswerable questions over and over… I just wanted to go be somewhere else. I tried logging on to the news sites but they were jammed. I remember ESPN.com, my favorite site, having a small picture in the corner with the announcement “North tower struck by plane”. After the South tower was hit, the entire site was devoted to the coverage.
There are several things I will never forget…
The smoke from the first tower
The plane slamming into the next tower
The shrieks of the news people when the second jet hit
And that video of the man with the towel…
I saw video of a man hanging out the window of the North Tower, the first one struck, waving a white towel. He was close to the top of the building, maybe the 90the floor or so… he had no chance. The rescue helicopters couldn’t get to the roof, the firemen couldn’t get past the 90th floor, where the jet hit. He was just waving his white towel… I saw a firefighter later talking about it. He was in tears, simply saying, “This man… wanted us to help him… but there was nothing… there was nothing we could do…”
200 people packed into the 78th floor lobby of the South Tower. They are all there, some going up, some going down, because they were told that the tower was secure. It was that floor, the 78th, that was sliced in half when American Airlines Flight 175 rammed through it. 200 people were there. 12 survived. Twelve people out of two hundred survived the left wing of a plane flying 417 miles per hour slicing through the floor they stood on, waiting for an elevator.
Another thing I can’t imagine is the desperation… being on the 100th floor, knowing you are going to die. Knowing you can’t go down. Knowing you can’t go up. So… you jump. I’ve seen video of this as well… and it’s haunting. What do you do? An estimated 212 people died by jumping. But you have to think that there were scores more that we’ll never know about that found a way to die without jumping… stabbing themselves, hitting themselves, maybe helping each other die somehow. Maybe taking an overdose of Benadryl in a co-workers office to knock you totally out.
I went home that day during lunch, sat in my room and cried. My tears flowed for a few minutes, watching the television, watching the people running around, scared, hurt, lost… watching the thick smoke, watching the fires blaze out of control. When I went back into work, I stopped at a gas station… already, gas prices were rising because of gas shortage fears. There, I ran into a college friend of mine, Donna Tucker.
Donna is my height, very pretty, very plucky and perky. She graduated a few years after me at TSU, but we knew each other instantly, and gave each other a hug. “How are you?” she asked. “Oh, I’ve seen better days. It’s been crazy today,” I replied. “Yes, I know.” We chatted for a few more minutes, about the past, about life and other things… I think God sent Donna that day to me, because for four minutes, I knew nothing about New York City, I knew nothing about Washington DC, I knew nothing about Flight 93 in Pennsylvania… I only knew of Donna and her life, her husband and how she was doing. It was a break from reality, even if ever so brief.
Rudy Giuliani made a good point… we’ll never know all the heroes. Of course, we know the firemen, the rescue workers, the police officers… but there must have been so many people who died we’ll never know of. Those people who helped usher people down the stairs just in time. Those people who gave up spots on the elevator, just in time for someone to be saved. Or maybe those people who helped comfort those others, when they all knew they were going to die. I’d like to think I’d have been that person.
Reflecting back, I’d like to think I’d have been th,e person to stand up and say, “People, Christ loves you. In a few minutes, you’ll have to stand before God, but right now, you can make a decision to live with him forever!”… but I am afraid I might have been the guy (this actually happened, according to reports) who told a lady trying to get on the elevator in front of him, “Lady, this isn’t the Titanic, woman and children aren’t first.” Who would I have been? It scares me to think about.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence for me. Usually, my cd player at my desk blares out whatever music I’m in the mood for, but not today. Many people in my office left early to go to their families. I called my mom and told her I loved her. I went home, and as cheesy as it sounds, I was really happy to see Michael, Tom and Shawn there. It was a comfort zone, and right then, on that day, I didn’t want to be challenged with anything. I wanted to be with people I cared about, and it was a relief to see them.
At Bible Study last night, John’s main point was to say there are no accidents. You can say this was or wasn’t the will of God, but you have to know that despite the devastation, so many people know Christ. So many people have heard the gospel. So many people are going to spend eternity with him as a result of September 11th. You can say, “Why would God sacrifice so many to save others?” but you know what, I don’t have an answer. I don’t have a clue. I do know though, that God uses everything for His glory and His purpose.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
NYC Entry #9: The Bling of Jesus
Welcome to Saturday, the last full day of NYC-dom. Started early, this time meeting at 7am for breakfast... of course, I was wrong in thinking of the departure time. I thought it was 745, it was actually at 730, so I learned of this when Mark banged on the bathroom door. The shower I had used all week was in use by someone else, so I walked around the the other shower on the floor, one that some of other team had used. Let me just tell you how jacked up this shower is... the faucet is on the left side of the shower, where the showerhead is located. The drain, however, is on the right side of the shower. So, as you turn on the water to get it just the right temperature before you turn on the shower, the hot scalding water is draining around your feet, burning you. Or freezing you if you start with the cold water instead.
Made it to the West Way Cafe, where this time, Larry and I were joined by Colby, Geryl, Daniel & Chuck, Mark and Philip--so even though we were supposed to leave at 730a, Philip the fearless leader was with us, so it was okay. Most of us got the Belgian Waffle, which looking back, I liked the french toast better.
Our plans were to travel down to Ground Zero, do some touristy type things, then meet back at Crotona Park by 3pm to set up for the Block Party that was being thrown.
Oh, come to find out, the man who was murdered while we were in the Bronx was a cabdriver from Senegal. It seems a homeless man walked up, and asked the cabbie to buy him a cigar. When the cabbie refused, the man pulled out a knife and simply slit his throat... then just walked away. The cabbie was DOA at the hospital. Very sad and scary... we've been approached probably a dozen times collectively for money, usually without incident even with rejection, but to know that something like that could have happened makes me shiver.
At Ground Zero, they have put up a new memorial fence around the entire area, with pictures, plaques and timelines in various places. GZ is very difficult for me. The last time I came, I knelt in front of the make-shift memorial fence at St Paul's Cathedral and prayed until I cried. This time, I walked down the fence a few times, and read and observed the things that had been placed on the fence. Two stood out at me... a picture of Chris Amoroso, a Port Authority Police officer, and Moira Smith, a NYPD officer. Both pictures showed them with people who appeared to be hurt, and both captions had basically the same text--officers who helped people, and went back inside the towers and never came out. After a little while, while other team members were taking pictures and reading, I had to walk away before I cried. I couldn't help it... it just tears my heart to read and see what happened here, though I personally think we should all be reminded of what happened on a regular basis. Four years later, much of the country has forgotten that yes, we were in fact attacked unprovoked.
Okay, I'll stop before I get on a rant, and this isnt the time nor place for it.
So, we moved on as a group, walking down to Wall Street, seeing the financial exchange building, the Trump Building (making me wonder if thats where the Apprentices get fired--though that could be just a movie set), and other various and assundried money-related building type things. From there, we walked on down to Battery Park. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the NYC area, let me see if I can draw it out for you...
New York has five boroughs, or sections. Coney Island is a part of Brooklyn, on the right lower section--its huge. On the left is Manhattan, it is a long "Florida without the panhandle" looking section. To the southwest of that is Staten Island. Right above Brooklyn is Queens, and right above Manhattan (and next to Queens) is The Bronx. Looking at Manhattan, Central Park's southern border is pretty much right in the middle of the Manhattan island. Of course, it extends up for 60 something blocks, so it ends close to The Bronx border. We were staying close to the upper west side, only a few blocks from Central Park, and from the Hudson River on the other side. Funny story--Paula was so jazzed she went to Central Park, only to find out, she actually had visited Riverside Park, which is right on the beach of the Hudson River.
At the bottom of Manhattan is Battery Park, and you can catch a ferry here to go down to Staten Island, past the Ellis Island location of the Statue of Liberty. Right above Battery Park is the Financial District, where you'd find Wall Street, Trump and the World Trade Center, not to mention the big hole in the ground that is currently the former WTC Tower site.
Geography lesson over.
As we walked to Battery, we met a gentleman sitting with his suitcase on the corner, selling his wares--bootleg dvds. The Dukes of Hazzard was one (which had actually hit theaters yesterday, August 5th), and Lil Josh bought it. Bigger Josh bought Batman Begins, but he had a number of dvds for sale. Mark and I both agreed that we didnt want a dvd that might not play in our player, or would have the back of someone's head in the picture.
We entered Battery Park and we were bombarded by guys selling three things... dvds, watches and sunglasses. Oh, there were purse salesmen too but mostly "Hey, we got Oakleys!" and "You need a Rolex!" and "come and see my movies for sale!". Our team went to wheelin' and dealin', and Tim ended up buying a silver Mercedes logo pendant on a large silver chain for $10. I'm not sure what is funnier, Big Tim with this Mercedes hood ornament hanging off of his neck, or all the really white people on our team using the word "bling" over and over again, like it was a common white word like "Condo" or "Volvo". Geryl negotiated with one guy for something, got him down to $5, then walked away because she was annoyed. I think had she kept going, the man would have paid her a few bucks to take it.
One guy had the little bottle caps with some paper under it, hiding the paper and sliding the caps all over the table, wanting money to gamble to see where it was. We watched for a minute, and one lady there kept winning. A couple of times he turned to me, held out a few hundreds and said "if you got a hundred, you can make it five" or some crap like that. I kept expecting him to say "hey, i am a Nigerian prince with millions in the bank, and all I need is a bank account number to transfer it over--can i have yours, and you can have half!" I told him no over and over, though he kept holding his money out for me to play. We just walked away. Though I think that the winning woman was in on the hustle, this con man was a God blessing, as you'll read later.
Everyone walked down and took pictures of the Statue of Liberty that you could see in the distance, though personally, I would have loved just taking a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. Here's the thing... I've been here already, I've seen this stuff before. I have seen Chinatown, Little Italy, Central Park, FAO Schwartz, The ESB and so on and so forth... really, what I wanted to do was go to Midtown Comics and maybe take in an afternoon at the Metro Museum. However--this wasn't about me. This whole trip wasn't about me, it was about Him. And many people going had never seen this stuff, so hanging out with them made it fun.
Philip and Josh told everyone that we could all split up, go in smaller groups and such, and visit, just be back in Crotona for the Block Party set-up by 3pm. I decided to go with Paula, Josh, Brandon, the Herringtons because they were headed to Chinatown, and also with Natalie, because, well, she's my homegirl. =)
Everyone departed their own way, going to various places and such, so we took the train up to Canal Street where Chinatown was located. We got above ground from the subway station and found it was packed out. A little while later, Geryl, Tim and Anna Lynn decided they would meet us at the Park, because keeping up with all of us was too difficult with the swarms of tourists and Chinese selling their wares.
Josh B had a just a little bit of money, and wanted some cologne. He wanted a big bottle of Ralph Lauren Polo Blue, retailing for $50, but the vendor wanted $18. He said "how mucha you got?" and Josh said "I have ten dollars" and the guy replied "Issa eight-teen dolla!". From out of nowhere, Paula firmly said, "Ten." The guy looked at her, looked at Josh, and defeated, said "Gimme ten". Josh handed the last of his money over, and he got his cologne.
We were all getting hungry, but let me say I don't dig on chinese. Actually, I don't dig dog and cat, so I tend to stay away from the oriental food (Japanese I can handle sometimes) which presents a problem for Steph, because she loves chinese food. However, being the selfless guy I am, I told Paula, the B-Boys and Nat that I would go and sit wherever they wanted to eat. They chose the Hon Wong Restaurant, and to me, it was pretty sketch. I ordered a Coke, and got a can with a big hair on top of it. Needless to say, I drank it with a straw.
After lunch, we walked through C'town, and they ended up buying various things there and here. I bought a pair of NYC Socks for The Lovely Steph Leann (she loves decorative socks) but that was all for me. Natalie got her a Louis Vitton purse, while Paula bought some random stuff as well. We strolled on over to Little Italy from there, where I went in and had some not-very-tasty-for-the-twelve-bucks-i-spent spaghetti at some hole in the wall "authentic" Italian joint while everyone else shopped.
And finally, it came time to head to The Bronx. Our plan was to get on the subway at 2pm, so we'd have a full hour to travel to Crotona Park, but none of us figured into our brilliance that we were on the bottom of Manhattan, and Crotona was on the other side of the top of Manhattan. Didn't help that we got on the wrong platform waiting for the wrong train. When we finally got on the right one, it was 230pm and we had 14 stops to make before arriving at 174th Street station, where we needed to be. Yeah, we walked off the platform at 174th around 310pm. I called Josh & Staci, who were already there, and told them we were almost there. After a quick stop at the Williams Grocery, for some 50 cent water and other assorted items, we walked up to the park.
Philip and Colby to meet us to walk us to the Block Party location, which seemed strange to me until I discovered that not only were we on the other side of the fairly large park, the block party we were to tend to was being held on the same day that the neighborhood did their monthly block party, complete with dental screenings, doctor check up booths and other needed things. "Hmm.. popcorn maker, check. Cotton candy machine, check. Lots of drinks, check. A day when nothing like the monthly neighborhood party is planned... hmmm." Just my thoughts. Didn't feel bad being there at 320 either... Geryl, Tim and Anna Lynn got lost, as did Mark, Chuck & Daniel, on the subways, and the entire group wasn't there until at least 4 or 415pm.
Fluid, baby, fluid--pardon my cynicism. It worked out, though.
The block party was being thrown in conjunction with a local church, Lighthouse (which Pastor Kitchens headed up) one guy said it best: "Pastor Kitchens is a great man. I just wish his congregation was like him." That is to say, there werent a whole lot of Lighthouse people there. The other church that was working on it was Hepsibah Baptist from South Carolina, who was just beginning a five day mission trip in the area, where they'd be doing VBS and Bible camps on a different side of the park.
Josh C started working on the sno cone machine, I took a hold of the popcorn machine, and Satci did the cotton candy, until she decided to be with Josh on sno-cones, which was good, because that was definately a two person job. Nat took over cotton candy then. Slowly but surely, kids and parents came. There were hot dogs and chips available, as well as games and one of those big blow up inflatable jumper-mabobs. Mark ended up doing that with Leslie, one of the mission directors, and became an Inflatables Bouncer. So many kids wanted in that thing they had to let them in depending on size for a few moments at a time. I saw one kid go running and diving in the opening, but before he could get through, Mark grabbed his legs, yanked him out and dropped him on the ground. Quite priceless.
Some of the kids we had worked with all week showed up to help, and before long, we had kids taking our places on sno-cones, popcorn and cotton candy, which was fine with us. I wandered down, got a hotdog, had a cheap (re: free) dinner and then got to watch three girls throwing down on some double dutch jump rope. They told me how, but when I did it, I managed to get in about four hops before the rope (which was a long piece of phone cord, I noticed. Had I money, I would have immediately gone and bought them a proper rope) tangled around my legs. I think Staci got in about six jumps, but neither Josh did much.
Made it to the West Way Cafe, where this time, Larry and I were joined by Colby, Geryl, Daniel & Chuck, Mark and Philip--so even though we were supposed to leave at 730a, Philip the fearless leader was with us, so it was okay. Most of us got the Belgian Waffle, which looking back, I liked the french toast better.
Our plans were to travel down to Ground Zero, do some touristy type things, then meet back at Crotona Park by 3pm to set up for the Block Party that was being thrown.
Oh, come to find out, the man who was murdered while we were in the Bronx was a cabdriver from Senegal. It seems a homeless man walked up, and asked the cabbie to buy him a cigar. When the cabbie refused, the man pulled out a knife and simply slit his throat... then just walked away. The cabbie was DOA at the hospital. Very sad and scary... we've been approached probably a dozen times collectively for money, usually without incident even with rejection, but to know that something like that could have happened makes me shiver.
At Ground Zero, they have put up a new memorial fence around the entire area, with pictures, plaques and timelines in various places. GZ is very difficult for me. The last time I came, I knelt in front of the make-shift memorial fence at St Paul's Cathedral and prayed until I cried. This time, I walked down the fence a few times, and read and observed the things that had been placed on the fence. Two stood out at me... a picture of Chris Amoroso, a Port Authority Police officer, and Moira Smith, a NYPD officer. Both pictures showed them with people who appeared to be hurt, and both captions had basically the same text--officers who helped people, and went back inside the towers and never came out. After a little while, while other team members were taking pictures and reading, I had to walk away before I cried. I couldn't help it... it just tears my heart to read and see what happened here, though I personally think we should all be reminded of what happened on a regular basis. Four years later, much of the country has forgotten that yes, we were in fact attacked unprovoked.
Okay, I'll stop before I get on a rant, and this isnt the time nor place for it.
So, we moved on as a group, walking down to Wall Street, seeing the financial exchange building, the Trump Building (making me wonder if thats where the Apprentices get fired--though that could be just a movie set), and other various and assundried money-related building type things. From there, we walked on down to Battery Park. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the NYC area, let me see if I can draw it out for you...
New York has five boroughs, or sections. Coney Island is a part of Brooklyn, on the right lower section--its huge. On the left is Manhattan, it is a long "Florida without the panhandle" looking section. To the southwest of that is Staten Island. Right above Brooklyn is Queens, and right above Manhattan (and next to Queens) is The Bronx. Looking at Manhattan, Central Park's southern border is pretty much right in the middle of the Manhattan island. Of course, it extends up for 60 something blocks, so it ends close to The Bronx border. We were staying close to the upper west side, only a few blocks from Central Park, and from the Hudson River on the other side. Funny story--Paula was so jazzed she went to Central Park, only to find out, she actually had visited Riverside Park, which is right on the beach of the Hudson River.
At the bottom of Manhattan is Battery Park, and you can catch a ferry here to go down to Staten Island, past the Ellis Island location of the Statue of Liberty. Right above Battery Park is the Financial District, where you'd find Wall Street, Trump and the World Trade Center, not to mention the big hole in the ground that is currently the former WTC Tower site.
Geography lesson over.
As we walked to Battery, we met a gentleman sitting with his suitcase on the corner, selling his wares--bootleg dvds. The Dukes of Hazzard was one (which had actually hit theaters yesterday, August 5th), and Lil Josh bought it. Bigger Josh bought Batman Begins, but he had a number of dvds for sale. Mark and I both agreed that we didnt want a dvd that might not play in our player, or would have the back of someone's head in the picture.
We entered Battery Park and we were bombarded by guys selling three things... dvds, watches and sunglasses. Oh, there were purse salesmen too but mostly "Hey, we got Oakleys!" and "You need a Rolex!" and "come and see my movies for sale!". Our team went to wheelin' and dealin', and Tim ended up buying a silver Mercedes logo pendant on a large silver chain for $10. I'm not sure what is funnier, Big Tim with this Mercedes hood ornament hanging off of his neck, or all the really white people on our team using the word "bling" over and over again, like it was a common white word like "Condo" or "Volvo". Geryl negotiated with one guy for something, got him down to $5, then walked away because she was annoyed. I think had she kept going, the man would have paid her a few bucks to take it.
One guy had the little bottle caps with some paper under it, hiding the paper and sliding the caps all over the table, wanting money to gamble to see where it was. We watched for a minute, and one lady there kept winning. A couple of times he turned to me, held out a few hundreds and said "if you got a hundred, you can make it five" or some crap like that. I kept expecting him to say "hey, i am a Nigerian prince with millions in the bank, and all I need is a bank account number to transfer it over--can i have yours, and you can have half!" I told him no over and over, though he kept holding his money out for me to play. We just walked away. Though I think that the winning woman was in on the hustle, this con man was a God blessing, as you'll read later.
Everyone walked down and took pictures of the Statue of Liberty that you could see in the distance, though personally, I would have loved just taking a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. Here's the thing... I've been here already, I've seen this stuff before. I have seen Chinatown, Little Italy, Central Park, FAO Schwartz, The ESB and so on and so forth... really, what I wanted to do was go to Midtown Comics and maybe take in an afternoon at the Metro Museum. However--this wasn't about me. This whole trip wasn't about me, it was about Him. And many people going had never seen this stuff, so hanging out with them made it fun.
Philip and Josh told everyone that we could all split up, go in smaller groups and such, and visit, just be back in Crotona for the Block Party set-up by 3pm. I decided to go with Paula, Josh, Brandon, the Herringtons because they were headed to Chinatown, and also with Natalie, because, well, she's my homegirl. =)
Everyone departed their own way, going to various places and such, so we took the train up to Canal Street where Chinatown was located. We got above ground from the subway station and found it was packed out. A little while later, Geryl, Tim and Anna Lynn decided they would meet us at the Park, because keeping up with all of us was too difficult with the swarms of tourists and Chinese selling their wares.
Josh B had a just a little bit of money, and wanted some cologne. He wanted a big bottle of Ralph Lauren Polo Blue, retailing for $50, but the vendor wanted $18. He said "how mucha you got?" and Josh said "I have ten dollars" and the guy replied "Issa eight-teen dolla!". From out of nowhere, Paula firmly said, "Ten." The guy looked at her, looked at Josh, and defeated, said "Gimme ten". Josh handed the last of his money over, and he got his cologne.
We were all getting hungry, but let me say I don't dig on chinese. Actually, I don't dig dog and cat, so I tend to stay away from the oriental food (Japanese I can handle sometimes) which presents a problem for Steph, because she loves chinese food. However, being the selfless guy I am, I told Paula, the B-Boys and Nat that I would go and sit wherever they wanted to eat. They chose the Hon Wong Restaurant, and to me, it was pretty sketch. I ordered a Coke, and got a can with a big hair on top of it. Needless to say, I drank it with a straw.
After lunch, we walked through C'town, and they ended up buying various things there and here. I bought a pair of NYC Socks for The Lovely Steph Leann (she loves decorative socks) but that was all for me. Natalie got her a Louis Vitton purse, while Paula bought some random stuff as well. We strolled on over to Little Italy from there, where I went in and had some not-very-tasty-for-the-twelve-bucks-i-spent spaghetti at some hole in the wall "authentic" Italian joint while everyone else shopped.
And finally, it came time to head to The Bronx. Our plan was to get on the subway at 2pm, so we'd have a full hour to travel to Crotona Park, but none of us figured into our brilliance that we were on the bottom of Manhattan, and Crotona was on the other side of the top of Manhattan. Didn't help that we got on the wrong platform waiting for the wrong train. When we finally got on the right one, it was 230pm and we had 14 stops to make before arriving at 174th Street station, where we needed to be. Yeah, we walked off the platform at 174th around 310pm. I called Josh & Staci, who were already there, and told them we were almost there. After a quick stop at the Williams Grocery, for some 50 cent water and other assorted items, we walked up to the park.
Philip and Colby to meet us to walk us to the Block Party location, which seemed strange to me until I discovered that not only were we on the other side of the fairly large park, the block party we were to tend to was being held on the same day that the neighborhood did their monthly block party, complete with dental screenings, doctor check up booths and other needed things. "Hmm.. popcorn maker, check. Cotton candy machine, check. Lots of drinks, check. A day when nothing like the monthly neighborhood party is planned... hmmm." Just my thoughts. Didn't feel bad being there at 320 either... Geryl, Tim and Anna Lynn got lost, as did Mark, Chuck & Daniel, on the subways, and the entire group wasn't there until at least 4 or 415pm.
Fluid, baby, fluid--pardon my cynicism. It worked out, though.
The block party was being thrown in conjunction with a local church, Lighthouse (which Pastor Kitchens headed up) one guy said it best: "Pastor Kitchens is a great man. I just wish his congregation was like him." That is to say, there werent a whole lot of Lighthouse people there. The other church that was working on it was Hepsibah Baptist from South Carolina, who was just beginning a five day mission trip in the area, where they'd be doing VBS and Bible camps on a different side of the park.
Josh C started working on the sno cone machine, I took a hold of the popcorn machine, and Satci did the cotton candy, until she decided to be with Josh on sno-cones, which was good, because that was definately a two person job. Nat took over cotton candy then. Slowly but surely, kids and parents came. There were hot dogs and chips available, as well as games and one of those big blow up inflatable jumper-mabobs. Mark ended up doing that with Leslie, one of the mission directors, and became an Inflatables Bouncer. So many kids wanted in that thing they had to let them in depending on size for a few moments at a time. I saw one kid go running and diving in the opening, but before he could get through, Mark grabbed his legs, yanked him out and dropped him on the ground. Quite priceless.
Some of the kids we had worked with all week showed up to help, and before long, we had kids taking our places on sno-cones, popcorn and cotton candy, which was fine with us. I wandered down, got a hotdog, had a cheap (re: free) dinner and then got to watch three girls throwing down on some double dutch jump rope. They told me how, but when I did it, I managed to get in about four hops before the rope (which was a long piece of phone cord, I noticed. Had I money, I would have immediately gone and bought them a proper rope) tangled around my legs. I think Staci got in about six jumps, but neither Josh did much.
Kendall showed up a little while later. I also noticed Tim sitting with another little girl, Vernalisa, whom I recognized from camp. It was her 11th birthday, and turned out to be another birthday as well... her first spiritual one. She accepted Christ right there in the park, and it was awesome. She was the cutest darn thing. Later, Kendall got to pray with another little girl, Arelis, who was probably about eight, maybe younger, to recieve Christ. I only envy that they got to pray with the kids, but I think its AWESOME!
I have to tell you this part though... the coconut shells. Some of the games were set up around the food, and I dont mind telling you, they were a wee bit cheesy. Throw the hackeysack into the hole in the wood, and toss the plastic ring on the plastic dolphin... no, I dont know that I could have come up with better stuff, given the time constraints, but its my site, so I can say that yes, they were cheesy.
Anna Lynn was running one booth that I can only call "Guess Where the Shell the Ball is". It was like the street hustle game we saw in Battery Park, only the small object to find was a blue foam ball, and the cups were plastic coconut shell cups, the kind you'd slap a lid and a crazy straw on, sipping pina colada in a hammock, kicking back, enjoying the... wait. Lords work. So, she was having a hard time with this, and finally asked me to do it because she was tired. Not really wanting to, I stepped in and said "Sure."
My mad skillz at doing such a game, moving the upside down shells around quickly so people lose track of the ball, aren't so much skillz as, well, incompetence. I learned quickly, however, that you dont have any problems guessing when there are price tag stickers on the bottom of the cups, all placed in different places. No wonder they were killing Anna Lynn. "The ball is in the cup with the sticker in the corner. Hmm, I will just pick that one." So I peeled off the stickers, and went to work. I'm a show-off, really, so thats what I did. I started flipping the cups, moving them around quickly, I'd pick them up while moving the cups in a circular motion so as to keep the ball in the cup, I'd pick up two of them together, move the ball between the two then slam the cups down, still moving them... yes, this might sound impressive, but I dropped the ball half the time, or the ball would fall out of the cup when I slammed it down. Still, it made for a good show, and the kids all enjoyed it. One kid was talking smack, and I burned him seven straight times. Felt good. =)
When we were about to leave, I suddenly announced that my time was up, I took a bow, and left the cups... only I had to come back, because one little girl starting crying, saying "I dinna get to do it!". So I did an encore performance, cutting my right hand middle finger in the process somehow. Bleedin' for Jesus.
A few minutes later, Arelis joined the faith family via Kendall's lead, and we all began to walk back to the 174th Street Station. We walked by the Williams Grocery store, and I shook the attendants hand and told him we were gone for good. He looked and smiled and said "see you tomorrow?" and I replied, "no, we're heading back to Alabama." I dont think he understood anything I said. That's allright, though. He was a blessing to us all with his 1/2 a dollar water and no tax 20 oz Cokes and for Colby, cheap pecan spinwheels.
Tim still had his bling on, and I was still getting a kick out of hearing white-bread Paula and white-bread Geryl saying the word "bling" all the time. As we stood awaiting the train, Josh B put Tim's bling on Philip, and made him turn his hat cockeyed... Philip then did this rapper pose that was simply priceless... you can't make this stuff up. Hence, P-Wat, or as I call him, P to the Wat to the E, R, S was born.
And finally, we said our goodbyes to Kendall on the train and walked away. Staci, Josh and Mark all headed back to Times Square for a few more purchases, while we were just too tired to do anything else. I went back and began to pack my junk, finding it strange how I had more stuff than I came with, when all I did was flippin' eat while I was there. Larry and I encouraged each other in that we only had one more night of sweaty backs and wet mattresses to endure for the Glory. We kept wondering if we'd see The Naked French Guy, or if I'd get one more chance to turn my head from Foreign Chick in a Towel, but it didnt happen.
So the plan is to be outside with our luggage by 545am, so we can catch the M60 bus to La Guardia by 6am. Early, once again.
I've got one more day... or morning, rather, to blog, and I'll tell you about Trevor, Terry and Keith, the Irishmen at the Palace, and also about the ride home. Then I think I'll relay to you my thoughts of the trip, my favorite moments and wrap it up. Thats coming Wednesday, so stay tuned.
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