September 10, 2002 -- Light and Darkness and all the shades between


A year, minus a day. What an odd chunk of time. One year ago,  while the wheels were in motion, the world was
unaware, except for a select few, who were acting, and waiting, with cold hearts to hear the next day's events unfold.

On the 9th, last year, I had just spent three days on the water, 15 miles east of Manhattan, on Long Island sound. For three days, we hoisted sails, fought our way around the race course, and enjoyed the perfect weather. The city skyline, innocent and unscared, was a backdrop. The twin towers, as they had for thrirty years, anchored one end of the familiar setting. On the 6th, we had motored the boat down the sound, ahead of our weekend of racing. We pulled out around the east end of the Norwalk Islands, and pointed out bow west, "Aim at the towers." We'd done that going west for years.

Last Friday, at about 1:00 pm, we rounded the east end of the Norwalks again, headed back to the same patch of water. The air was crisp, the sky clear, but, of course, our landmark was gone. Manhattan still hove over the horizon, some thirty five miles distant, the taller buildings cresting the watery horizon, but two were gone. It will be a long time,  nearly a century, before people can look at that vista and not be reminded, in some small way, of what has changed.

Last night, we were at a party. Downtown. Not all the way downtown, but, below 14th. The streets were themselves, people were enjoying the light warm evening.With children underfoot, conversations did not wander towards the 11th. But, in the moments between, when all the little ones had charged off to play in a bedroom, the topic floated up, at once to the surface.

On our way home, we made our way south on West street, and around the Battery. The Winter Garden, at the World Financial Center, was lit. The glass shining, the tops of the palm trees just visibible, lit from below and within. New light, new life, in the sudden open space that adjoins the site. Television trucks were lined up along the way. More than we could count, therie little uplink dishes all pointing skywards, ready to play their part in marking the 11th.

Up the FDR drive. In Queens, the tallest building on Long Island stands alone, as it has since it's been built. No cluster of skyscrapers keeping it company, it draws the eye. Only, tonight, as has been the case since last year, the building's giant sign is dark. No gleaming letters announce, with pride who owns that building. Rather, the  building blends into the night sky, the top few stories pockmarked with lit offices, and then ill defined, the eye cannot find the exact top of the building. Innocence lost, the skyline diminished, in the ever so slight fear that, standing out proudly, announcnig its presence,  it might be more of a target, and easier mark to aim at.

The water of the East river  holds lights. Blue strobe light fireflies dot the water. Abeam of the UN, a small Flotilla
bounces on the current churned water. A gleaming white Coast Guard patrol boat, several smaller launches, NYPD, from
the look, and other boats, all showing the blue strobe of  officialdom buzz about.

Everywhere, there are hints and portents of what has changed, and what we fear has not changed, the threat that people lurk at the edges of our life, waiting, as they did a year ago, with cold hearts, to emerge from the darkness. The city is calmer than it was, in the months after the attacks. But, not as calm as it was a month ago. Once again, the wail of a siren brings a momentary thought. Is it alone? Is it normal? Is it just the mundane tradgedy of an ambulance, a fire truck, attending to the routines of urban life?