Side Effects

Today is the 10th anniversary of September 11th.

I'm not here to recap the "where was I" on that day; I've already done that in the past. And in fact, I've probably retold my 9/11 story dozens of times over the past 10 years. In the days following, my story was retold among friends and acquaintances. In the months following, every person at college heard the story after asking me if I had known anyone who died in the Twin Towers when I said that I was from New York. Every year since as people stop to remember that day on message boards and social networking sites, I retold my story.

But what about the story of what happened after 9/11? How has life been affected over these past 10 years?

That is the story I'm here to share today.

September 14, 2001: It was the day that I left for college. My father and I packed up a rental car and drove all the way to Boston. I just remember the eerie feeling of their being no planes in the sky, a site rarely seen in the northeast where so many major airports are in close proximity. In fact, it wasn't until the next day when they lifted the ban on aircrafts and, while crossing a Boston street, I looked up and saw a commercial jet and felt a little lump rise in my throat. Two of the planes that crashed had taken off from Logan Airport. What if it happened again? My first semester, I had a class that met in the mornings on the top floor of a building from which I could look out the window and see the top of the Prudential Building from my seat. Every day I sat in that class looking out at that building thinking, what if a plane crashed into that building right now? What would I even do? It would be a slow trickle back to normalcy.

October 26, 2001: I came home for the weekend to go to a Halloween rave party in the city with friends. We took the subway downtown and got off at the Chambers street station, just blocks from Ground Zero. The thing I will remember the most was the smell; of burning debris, steel, plastic, asbestos and most of all, the undeniable smell of burning bodies. We rounded a corner and there it was: surrounded by wooden fences, smoke still rising from the ruins. Even in the middle of the night, work lights were on and workers were in the rubble working diligently in their rescue efforts.The fences were adorned with posters: some were looking for missing persons, some were memorials. There were flowers and rosaries and prayers. There was a cop car on the corner across the street. We stopped to ask them for directions and I remember just wanting to reach into the car and hug one of the police officers, to thank them for anything they might have done on 9/11.

September 11, 2003: I moved back home and was attending school in NYC. I had a break in between classes and decided to go down to Ground Zero to pay my respects. I had printed the lyrics to the song "Believe" by Yellowcard, which is a tribute to the firefighters who lost their lives on 9/11. I put the sheet of paper in a plastic holder and I had found a rose on the sidewalk. I walked around the viewing area where the flower arrangements were and next to a metal memorial vigil of the twin towers, surrounded by flowers, candles and poems, I lay down my lyrics and placed my rosebud on top.

Think about the love inside the strength of heart
Think about the heroes saving life in the dark
Climbing higher through the fire, time was running out
Never knowing you weren't going to be coming down alive
But you still came back for meYou were strong and you believed

.....

Think about the chance I never had to say
Thank you for giving up your life that day
Never fearing, only hearing voices calling out
Let it all go, the life that you know, just to bring it down alive
And you still came back for meYou were strong and you believed

September 11, 2011: Ground Zero is no more. Long gone is the rubble, the ruins in the depths of which the yearly memorial was held in its early stages. What remains is a beautiful, glorious memorial in the footprints of the Twin Towers. The beginnings of the Freedom tower and several small towers that will surround the old WTC site. I watched the families of those lost on 9/11 find the names of their loved ones on the walls surrounding giant waterfalls that pour into the footprints, leaving roses and creating rubbings of the engraved names. A memorial not just for those who were lost that day but for those who gave their lives. A memorial for those in decades to come to look at and remember what bravery occurred on that fateful day.

"We still here! And we're building four more new towers!"
.......

I recently read an article about people who developed post-traumatic stress from the events of 9/11, even if they weren't directly in any of the buildings or in the area of the WTC; PTS developed simply from knowing, from watching the news non-stop, from worrying. All these years I thought I was being dramatic in my thinking that maybe I had developed some kind of PTSD after 9/11, but after reading their stories, maybe I was right? I can't even think about this day without bursting into tears, remembering my city in ruins, watching the people running, people jumping from buildings, people burned and covered in dust, firefighters and police officers and medical personnel simply overwhelmed. I've developed several anxiety disorders and gone through periods of social isolation, constant worrying, constant fear of the "what if" - things that have been a severe impediment on my personal growth in a time when it was needed most.

The 10 year anniversary of 9/11 has really amplified these past ten years of my life. In a year where I also graduated from high school and was going to be starting college, 2001 suddenly became this enormous cornerstone of my life because of the events of September 11th. That post-graduation decade, in which many young adults begin to find themselves and grow and come into their own with careers and families, was drastically altered by what happened that day and all the events that have happened since. I know at least 6 people who became firefighters (either through volunteer services, local departments or FDNY) because they were so touched by the acts of the firefighters that died on 9/11 that they wanted to give back. I have known another handful of young men who joined the Military to try and fight back and "get the bastards who attacked us"; one of which was my former roommate who was deployed in Iraq at the time when a fellow unit captured Saddam Hussein - to which he disclosed that they had actually captured him a month before it was announced here in the United States due to the fact that that they had to be sure it was really him because he had so many doppelgangers.

The invasion of the Middle East, the killings of Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden. The recession/depression/collapse of the American Economy. These are not the typical events that most high school graduates have to deal with but all of us who have become adults in these past 10 years have had to struggle with it. With deciding what to do with our lives and our futures while struggling to find jobs and stability. As children, we were promised safety and security, a solid education, a thriving jobs and housing market, a warm and welcome place to start families and raise children, freedom and equality, with liberty and justice for all. And instead, over the past 10 years, we have watched the America that we grew up with, the America that we were proud to call home, become a shell of its former self. Would things have turned out much differently if 9/11 never happened? The world will never know.

Ten years, Teen years.

In exactly one month from now, I will have graduated from High School exactly ten years ago. A milestone like that can certainly make someone feel old. As I ride the bus to work in the mornings and see local teenagers getting off to go to school, it makes me feel even older. All the weird clothes and cell phones and strange music, vibrant hair colors - things that were blatantly taboo while I was growing up have all become common place. Kids used to defy their parents by getting a random piercing on their face; Today, parents are willingly taking or allowing their kids to get these metallic deformations. (like those 'snake-bite' double lip piercings. Really? You're letting your 14 year old walk around looking like they just got snagged by a fishing hook?) I remember my mom freaking out because I put red streaks in my hair. A teenage girl I ride the bus with has bright purple layering underneath her jet black dyed locks. As her and her friends hop off the bus, they're quickly lighting up cigarettes and texting their friends before walking to homeroom. Oh, sure, there was smoking and other debauchery that went on amongst my peers back then, usually under wraps and out of the unseen eyes of adults - but today, it seems to have become so commonplace.The times, they are a changin'!

When I was 14, I started my freshman year of high school. I had short, pixie/boy cut hair. I wore vintage t-shirts and pants with legs so wide you could practically fit another human being in them. I had a backpack covered in ska & punk band patches. I wore a ball chain necklace and rubber bracelets and a chain attached to my wallet. Sometimes, I was even known to wear a studded choker or a white leather cat collar with a bow, encrusted with blue rhinestones. I would wear a vinyl skirt with a button down shirt, tie and wingtips - occasionally I added a tiara to the mix. I spiked my hair with pomade and carried an old metal lunchbox as a purse. I wore a dark blue hoodie every day with holes cut out in the arm bands for my thumbs. I put red streaks in my hair. I wore oversized "metal" band (Korn, System of a Down, Kittie, Stain'd, etc of the day) t-shirts. I wore out several pair of red & gray contrasting Vans skateboard sneakers - even though I'd never skateboarded a day in my life. I was a band geek - I played the flute in the marching and symphonic bands. My best friend & I started and were the only 2 members on the marching flag squad - for all of one parade. I was part of the TV station. I played JV lacrosse for their start-up season. I went to prom my junior and senior year and wore candy colored dresses to both of them.

By senior year I had toned down my look, grown out my hair, started wearing more sensible clothes and was preparing to head off to college in Boston. I wore a pink flowered dress with white sandals to my graduation under my white graduation gown. I got my diploma and tossed my hat in the air - no more teachers, no more books! I worked at a camp with my friends all summer and partied on the weekends at clubs and raves and had a relationship with a boy while cheating on my shut-in RPG playing boyfriend. Little did I know that in three months, my life would be changing forever. And not just because I was going to college, but because that year, ten years ago, September 11th happened - exactly 5 days before I was due to move into my college dorm for Freshman orientation. (My college was on the trimester system, so we had a late start.)  

Now, 10 years later - here I am. Living on my own in Philadelphia with my Master's degree. My hair is all one color, my jeans are normal and I wear plain t-shirts. The road has been rocky, but I'm still standing. And as I speak, construction crews are working on rebuilding the Twin Towers so that they too can stand strong again one day.

10 years may seem like a long time, but we're just getting started.

Dear Jon...

It's been a long time, huh? Glad to see you're happy and doing well.

It's funny - I found myself thinking about you lately. Just this past Saturday night, I recalled the time you set a blanket on your lawn on a sunny Sunday afternoon and you read my fortune with tarot cards, looking up to see what each one meant from this book you had. Your spirituality was always one of your biggest passions and one of your most endearing qualities.

Remember our first date? Where we got bad Chinese food at that place on Mass Ave with the orange tables. Then picked out 2 movies at Blockbuster - Friday & Minority Report. We never did make it to Minority Report. We went to sleep in my dorm and in the dark, under the covers, I tickled you. You squirmed and then we kissed under my navy blue blanket. Our first kiss.

I think most of the reason I've thought of you lately is because I've met someone who reminds me so much of you. I see so many of your traits in him. You both are gentle and kind and well read. Sensitive. Smart. Caring. Comedic. Lovers of obscure bands/DJs and clove cigarettes. You both love animals and make funny faces and are skinny and fun to hug. You both have dimples with amazing smiles. You are both free spirited, yearning to travel, to see what the world has yet to hold. You march to the beat of your own drums and, in doing so, make the most beautiful kinds of music.

We were young and foolish at a time when it was great to be young and foolish and in love. Alas, distance always gets in the way. The physical distance between us, as well as the distance between us physically.  It makes me sad the way things ended between us, but deep down, I think we know it was the right thing. Our paths had crossed and then one day, my path shifted, but we shared some great times along the way.

I remember the last time I saw you. October, 2005. Club Shampoo in Philadelphia. You came up to me and gave me a hug, stepped back, holding me at arms length and said, "You look great."

"Thank you.", I replied, smiling.

Those were the best kind of words we could have parted ways with.

xoxo

I Heart New York.

I Love New York.

I am a native New Yorker. Bronx born, Westchester raised. Manhattan was my playground as a teen and young adult. I played at Carnegie Hall was I was 16. I graduated from Graduate School on the stage at Radio City Music Hall. Whenever I am away from it for too long, there is this intense sense of yearning, a deep need to be back on those concrete streets surrounded by sights and sounds and skyscrapers. The crowds can be soothing though; One union of people all moving at the same pace. Everyone always yells at me for walking too fast, but it’s just the New York in me. Nothing can bring a tear to my eye more than seeing that famous skyline in the distance. I am proud to be a part of this amazing city with so much culture, so much history, so much vibrancy.

Some people become jaded on New York, but not me. New York is absolutely, positively the one place I could see myself living the rest of my life and never getting bored or sick of it. Sure there are a lot of things that just don’t faze me anymore (homeless people, street performers) and in those moments I wonder what brings people here from all over the world, why do people want to come to New York City? But then there are always new things to see and wonders that never cease to amaze me (festivals, artwork and yes, even the homeless and street performers at times as well) that make me go, “Oh yeah, this is why.”

New York City has been a part of all my 26 years of life and yet, I still haven’t even seen a quarter of it all. It is always changing, evolving, and becoming something different entirely but still just as amazing. Some of the best nights of my life have taken place in the City, the ones with the strongest memories that I will always hold true to my heart: Meeting new friends, having amazing times with old friends, first kisses, drunken adventures, trying new things, getting into trouble, late nights and early morning sunrises. The list could go on forever.

I always get a deep sense of pride when friends from out of town want to come to New York, especially if they have never been there before. I go crazy thinking of all kinds of things to see and places to go; Ways to show them My New York. I also get a sense of relief when they don’t want to do all those crazy, intolerably touristy things like go see the Statue of Liberty or go to the top of the Empire State Building. Time Square is enough tourist trap for me to handle. Over the years, the tourists have started to bother me less and less – mostly because I tend to stay away from tourist-laden spaces as much as I can – but I still get frustrated when people stop in the middle of the streets to read their maps and snicker when people point their cameras up at that big weird looking silver skyscraper on 42nd street to take pictures of the “Empire State Building”. (FYI – It’s the Chrysler Building.)

September 11th really affected me deeply as a New Yorker, as I’m sure it did many other New Yorkers, and it still does to this day. It was an attack on our City. Our little island in this great big world and these two amazing buildings, one of which I had the privilege to go up to the top of when I was 8 years old. I remember riding the elevator up to the 107th floor on a cold, December evening. My aunt and I had watched a performance of “The Nutcracker” in the Atrium then decided to go up to the observation deck. I went around to every window, looking at New York from all 4 sides of that building, my nose cautiously pressed up against the glass. I was in awe. The city was so huge, so expansive, and to a little girl like me, it was just impressively vast and beautiful. My aunt bought me a pink pencil shaped pencil case that had the famous New York landmarks on the side of it; The Twin Towers being one of them. When it was nicer and warmer out, you could have gone up to an outdoor observation deck as well. I never got the chance and it’s heartbreaking to think that neither I nor anyone else ever will.

I have lived in Philadelphia now for the past year, and while it is a beautiful city rich with its own history and culture, it will never be New York. It will never give me the same nervous, tingly, awestruck feeling when I look at its skyline or walk down its streets. I’ve never even ridden on the subway here, something I could do with ease and navigate blindfolded in NYC. I have made it my goal in life to move back to New York within the next five years and to live within the five boroughs until the day that I die. It’s only fitting. NYC is in my blood. It is as much a part of me as I am a part of it. A city of 8 million and growing – I want the chance to be able to finish the story that I started.