My wife Veronika and I took the Metro-North train from our sleepy suburb of Chappaqua to the one-of-a-kind hustling and bustling energy of New York City. It was the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, and we wanted to experience firsthand the twin beams of blue lights pointing to the Heavens, emanating from where the Twin Towers once stood.
We arrived at Grand Central Station around 4:44 PM and made our way on foot to the Garment District. Veronika checked out some of the craft stores while I waited outside. I was people-watching and chomping on a fine Punch cigar. There is no place like New York City to people-watch or just take in the sites. Veronika bought a few things, and then we made our way to the subway for our trip Downtown.
Arriving in Lower Manhattan, I could sense the somberness of the day. As always it was touristy, but there was a reverence of sorts in the air. Maybe it was just me allowing the feelings of 9/11 I carry every day to have a little more breathing room today. I recall some of the sights and smells from back in 2001, a few days after the collapse of the towers when I had the privilege to help out in the recovery efforts. I played a very small role, but it was a profound time for me, and the proudest I have ever felt to be an American. I will never forget that time, along with the sights, sounds, and smells of the terrible tragedy as long as I live.
Veronika suggested that we walk the Brooklyn Bridge to view Lower Manhattan from across the East River. I had never walked the historic bridge, so I thought it would be interesting. To be honest, I did think about all the walking involved when we got halfway over the bridge and could see our riverside destination, the Brooklyn Bridge Park. The park seemed like it was five miles away and a mile and a half below the bridge. The trek was not as bad as I thought. In no time at all the bridge was behind us, and we were enjoying the beauty of Brooklyn’s well-maintained park.
We decided to have dinner at a little romantic place near the park. We had a little time to kill until there was enough darkness to support the Ground Zero lights. The night was the perfect canvas for the beautiful Manhattan skyline, and the defiant blue rays of light piercing the darkness were magnificent. It was an awesome perspective from Brooklyn, my wife had chosen the perfect place.
I was a bit weepy all day, as I am every year on this day. I even had tears in my eyes on the train into the city, recalling September 11, 2001, and trying not to anticipate the day ahead. I had seen the lights before, on many occasions in fact, but it was always from 30 miles away in my comfortable Westchester County setting far removed from the true emotion and drama.
I resigned myself to wholeheartedly participate and not anticipate anything this day of remembrance would hold for me. I wanted to absorb everything, and open myself to the lessons this tragic event had to teach me about myself, and what I believe deep in my heart.
As we were walking halfway back on the Brooklyn Bridge, I noticed objects floating and sparkling by the thousands in the blue columns of light.
Still too far away to make out what these objects could be, we continued towards the source of light, the focal point of our journey. The closer to Ground Zero we traveled, it seemed the soaring objects grew in their numbers. I engaged a few people along the way as to what they thought these “things” could be. One man with a professional-looking camera on a tripod said he thought they were moths at first, but then retracted his statement realizing there was no way moths were that big or could be seen from the Brooklyn Bridge with the naked eye.
As we approached Ground Zero, there was a crowd gathered taking pictures of the lights, and the amazing illuminated objects floating overhead. A book I read some time ago by Squire Rushnell called “When God Winks at You” came to my mind as I stared into the blue lights. The premise of the book was that God gives us what Squire calls “God Winks” from time to time just to let us know He’s here. Now I am not saying these objects were Angels or the lost souls of those that perished there nine years ago. But the very fact that they were there caused me to think of that hallowed ground differently, and even in a more heavenly-minded way.
For all I know it was just sheets of paper floating around in the wind currents, illuminated by the brilliant lights, that will be picked up for trash when their flight has ended. I choose to see more to it, to see something bigger at work, or maybe even someone. What I do know for sure, it was breathtaking to see and experience firsthand. Maybe that’s what a “God Wink” is all about. An experience that causes us to see something deeper, with more clarity, and it allows us to stand in awe of something beautiful.
I still don’t know for sure what was in the lights that night. I cherish the excitement I felt watching the beauty of it unfold amid a painful and tragic reminder. Maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, or maybe sometimes the lining is a beautiful blue.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Dancing in the Blue Light
My wife Veronika and I took the Metro-North train from our sleepy suburb of Chappaqua to the one-of-a-kind hustling and bustling energy of New York City. It was the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, and we wanted to experience firsthand the twin beams of blue lights pointing to the Heavens, emanating from where the Twin Towers once stood.
We arrived at Grand Central Station around 4:44 PM and made our way on foot to the Garment District. Veronika checked out some of the craft stores while I waited outside. I was people-watching and chomping on a fine Punch cigar. There is no place like New York City to people-watch or just take in the sites. Veronika bought a few things, and then we made our way to the subway for our trip Downtown.
Arriving in Lower Manhattan, I could sense the somberness of the day. As always it was touristy, but there was a reverence of sorts in the air. Maybe it was just me allowing the feelings of 9/11 I carry every day to have a little more breathing room today. I recall some of the sights and smells from back in 2001, a few days after the collapse of the towers when I had the privilege to help out in the recovery efforts. I played a very small role, but it was a profound time for me, and the proudest I have ever felt to be an American. I will never forget that time, along with the sights, sounds, and smells of the terrible tragedy as long as I live.
Veronika suggested that we walk the Brooklyn Bridge to view Lower Manhattan from across the East River. I had never walked the historic bridge, so I thought it would be interesting. To be honest, I did think about all the walking involved when we got halfway over the bridge and could see our riverside destination, the Brooklyn Bridge Park. The park seemed like it was five miles away and a mile and a half below the bridge. The trek was not as bad as I thought. In no time at all the bridge was behind us, and we were enjoying the beauty of Brooklyn’s well-maintained park.
We decided to have dinner at a little romantic place near the park. We had a little time to kill until there was enough darkness to support the Ground Zero lights. The night was the perfect canvas for the beautiful Manhattan skyline, and the defiant blue rays of light piercing the darkness were magnificent. It was an awesome perspective from Brooklyn, my wife had chosen the perfect place.
I was a bit weepy all day, as I am every year on this day. I even had tears in my eyes on the train into the city, recalling September 11, 2001, and trying not to anticipate the day ahead. I had seen the lights before, on many occasions in fact, but it was always from 30 miles away in my comfortable Westchester County setting far removed from the true emotion and drama.
I resigned myself to wholeheartedly participate and not anticipate anything this day of remembrance would hold for me. I wanted to absorb everything, and open myself to the lessons this tragic event had to teach me about myself, and what I believe deep in my heart.
As we were walking halfway back on the Brooklyn Bridge, I noticed objects floating and sparkling by the thousands in the blue columns of light.
Still too far away to make out what these objects could be, we continued towards the source of light, the focal point of our journey. The closer to Ground Zero we traveled, it seemed the soaring objects grew in their numbers. I engaged a few people along the way as to what they thought these “things” could be. One man with a professional-looking camera on a tripod said he thought they were moths at first, but then retracted his statement realizing there was no way moths were that big or could be seen from the Brooklyn Bridge with the naked eye.
As we approached Ground Zero, there was a crowd gathered taking pictures of the lights, and the amazing illuminated objects floating overhead. A book I read some time ago by Squire Rushnell called “When God Winks at You” came to my mind as I stared into the blue lights. The premise of the book was that God gives us what Squire calls “God Winks” from time to time just to let us know He’s here. Now I am not saying these objects were Angels or the lost souls of those that perished there nine years ago. But the very fact that they were there caused me to think of that hallowed ground differently, and even in a more heavenly-minded way.
For all I know it was just sheets of paper floating around in the wind currents, illuminated by the brilliant lights, that will be picked up for trash when their flight has ended. I choose to see more to it, to see something bigger at work, or maybe even someone. What I do know for sure, it was breathtaking to see and experience firsthand. Maybe that’s what a “God Wink” is all about. An experience that causes us to see something deeper, with more clarity, and it allows us to stand in awe of something beautiful.
I still don’t know for sure what was in the lights that night. I cherish the excitement I felt watching the beauty of it unfold amid a painful and tragic reminder. Maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, or maybe sometimes the lining is a beautiful blue.
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