At the first anniversary ceremony at Ground Zero a small army of bagpipes finished "Amazing Grace." That slow beating drum synchronized the souls of all who stood waiting for the tradition-to-come reading of the names.
The first names of the those who died on 9/11 were slowly pouring into the air. My brother and I were standing a little bit off to one side of the podium, our feet already tired, and we talked about how Mitch's name wouldn't be read for hours. I remember that it wasn't really quiet. People were coming and going, phone-talking, or chatting softly. Occasionally a joke or remembrance told would bring a soft laughter into the morning.
Sometimes the clan of the victim was close by. The name, no matter how softly read, slashed the morning air and focused seemingly at random on a group of ten, or two, or occasionally of one, in the tens of thousands who had gathered.
"I knew him," Ken said quietly. And then, after more, some more names came off the podium, each one slashing the morning air, he said, again, "I knew him." I stopped counting after a couple of dozen lives known and now gone were acknowledged. He had helped some get their jobs in the Twin Towers. Some were colleagues, friends, or competitors.
September 11, 2015 by Yaseen, 121Contact