NEW SERIES
Ground Zero
By Eugenia Vogel

One Thursday afternoon, early in November, I visited Ground Zero with my friend Bill. He understands the horrors of war after serving in Vietnam. Fortunately he knew a firefighter that was working that day on the rescue effort and we were able to get really close to the disaster area.

At the site of 16 acres of total destruction a profound desolation inundated my whole being. Bill’s eyes searched the site almost professionally. A dense smoke filled the air —a foul odor of burning human remains and high-tech plastic from the working tools of thousands of men and women who earned a living facing computers in the towers. Fires still burned among tall piles of crushed cement and twisted iron girders. Pieces of sharp metal, looking like bayonet tips, cover patches of indented earth.

A metal piece of the north tower façade stood up skeleton-like among the endless debris, creating the image of a chilling sculpture immortalizing annihilation. It reminded me of Picasso’s famous Basque painting Guernike, a memorial to that city after the Luftwafe bombarded it non-stop for four hours during their first European air raid.

I stood frozen as Bill walked further into the disaster area with the firefighter. A chill ran through my spine seeing up close what the enemies of our free society did on September 11th, and my thoughts were flashing. Four Englewood homeowners died here and others lost loved ones. This was the work of organized terrorists—a terror that should have never infiltrated this land of freedom and opportunity. It is obvious that our immigration laws are weak, and the INS bureaucracy so far is total incapable to do their job. Millions of people are living in the U.S. with expired Visa’s, without any intention of becoming U.S. citizens. The saddest part is that we educate their dependents for free in our public schools, including Englewood. Also we give billions in foreign aid. No other country in the world would allow such a burden on their citizens and taxpayers. Tragically, all this generosity has not brought us either respect or gratitude. On the contrary our country is disliked by many.

We as American citizens pay billions in taxes and it is our right to have a safe country first and foremost. We must not be afraid to demand safety from all our representatives in Washington. They are elected to listen and we should remind them they work for us. If our government had done its job, the World Trade Center would have never been destroyed and thousands of lives would not be lost.

Bill returned to my side, and as we were leaving the unforgettable site, other people gathered nearby. Some were just curious. Others took pictures and a few had their video cameras rolling. An older woman laced her fingers and said a prayer while two school-aged children held lit candles at her side. Someone in the crowd shouted “Peace.”

We walked silently back to the ferry, immersed in our thoughts. I thought about how just 12 days before the attack, my husband Howard and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary at Windows of the World – the former restaurant at the top of one of the towers. Our table was next to a large window, and we felt as if we were sitting side by side a sky painted red with the brush of a setting sun. Now the enemies of our country have stolen that view, and with it much more. The terrorists robbed our sense of security, showing the world how vulnerable our country was, and still is, to all kinds of terrorist groups. Some come from far away places, and others come from within our own ranks.

Bill didn’t utter a word as we walked back to the ferry that would take us home. Finally I broke the silence. “Do you think the towers will be rebuilt?” Bill looked at me in disbelief and said, “I’m not a dreamer. All I know is that the shadow of death will hang around that place for decades.” I placed my arm around his shoulders for a moment and said—“True. It’s New York’s wound.” He pointed to the large hole in the skyline where the Towers once stood, and said “No! It’s America’s open wound!”

Bill dropped me at home. My house seemed like a refuge. I ran upstairs looking for my 14-year-old daughter Alex. She was writing an essay on Orwell’s Animal Farm as Britney Spears screamed from her radio. What a combination! I interrupted her homework and hugged her. The phone rang. It was Howard letting me know he will be late for dinner. What else was new? I headed for my bedroom hoping a hot shower would wash away memories of the afternoon. The warmth of the water was soothing and it felt like tempered summer rain.

I wrapped myself in Howard’s huge bathrobe and as I was drying my hair, Alex walked in, radio in hand, and said, “Isn’t Britney’s new song cool, Ma?” I smiled and held her close, wondering whether she will live under the threat of terror here, like I did in my native Basque land? Or will the threat fade with time?

Eugenia Vogel

The EHOA News Bulleting welcomes letters, essays and poems from memberships in good standing. We will publish your contributions in our 2002 issues. (For privacy reasons you may sign them with your initials if you wish.) Theme: Where were you on 9/11? How did the terrorist attack at the WTC affect you? Maybe it didn’t. Tell us why?

Next | Previous | Home | Previous Newsletter

designed by gyrotel.com