September 6, 2010
9/11: Daria’s Story
A different 9/11 story will be posted every day this week. Please share.
The morning of September 1, 2001, I was in Lower Manhattan. My colleague Jeffrey Lerner and I had just finished a short walk and were about to join a friend of his for breakfast when the doorman at the Gramercy Park Hotel told us an airplane had accidently flown into one of the World Trade Center Towers. We were gorging on eggs and has browns when our server brought the news that a second plane had hit another tower. We rushed up to my room to watch Aaron Brown deliver the awful truth on CNN. Jefffrey and his friend, a young cinematographer, headed for what would become known as “Ground Zero” to videotape what they could. I stayed in my room, fantasizing a nuclear attack while frantically trying to reach my daughter, who lived in the City, and my wife, whose office overlooks the White House.
Thousands of police officers, firefighters, construction workers and medical personnel weren’t so self-absorbed or fearful: they picked up their tools and rushed downtown to help with rescue efforts, many of them losing their lives as a result. A few months later, the actor (and trade unionist) Richard Masur and I visited Ground Zero and videotaped interviews with a dozen construction workers who were still working 24/7 in the recovery effort. We used the material gathered to produce a video for the Building Trades Department, AFL-CIO, and I later created some composite characters and fiction work from what I’d learned. My first piece was inspired by the fire fighters and police officers who go there first. I told a part of their story through the words of a of a restaurant worker from “Windows on the World’ who managed to escape before the twin towers collapsed. I tried to confront the horror as well as my own failings of that day by melding her voice into a short poem:
Body Parts
A hand lies trembling in the street.
It has no mouth, it cannot speak;
It cannot run, it has no feet.
Up they went, hats and boots and legs and heads.
Down they came, no shouts or screams, already dead.
Bodies was dropping everywhere, Daria said.
Me and someone else saw a shoe under a piece of car,
so we lifted it up and there was a leg with nothing else attached..
There were strollers with babies in them, turned on their side.
I saw a rescue worker with his arm and shoulder blown off.
He was screaming and running and the policeman
was trying to stop him to help him, but he was panicked
because the blood was coming out of him.
I saw so many people jumping and falling out the building.
One couple took each other’s hands as they jumped..
Up they went, young and strong and full of heart.
Down they came, broken picks and body parts.
A hand lies decomposing in the street.
The living stare, but do not weep;
The dead look down, but do not sleep.
-end-
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