You are currently browsing stories tagged with “9/11 and its aftershocks.”
At Thomas Street, about six blocks North of the World Trade Center, the nature of the crowd on the street changed. There was more urgency and less mirth, more police shouting, and amidst the crowd was a guy who had been on the 81st floor on Two World Trade Center when the plane hit. It was just after ten AM. [...]
All of us who were in Manhattan on September 11th have our own harrowing, freakish and scary stories to tell, but of all the stories I heard directly that day, my neighbor Jennifer's story takes the cake: Jennifer was on the 92nd floor of 2 World Trade Center on Tuesday morning. She looked out her window and saw a plane [...]
The story unfolded quickly, but with the usual peculiar sense that we are always on the verge of being at the end of the event. We always think that what we can fathom is all there is to fathom. Like during a blackout, when our first thought is always, "Oh! My lights are off." For all of us yesterday, following [...]
So it began at the dry cleaners, at five past nine, when someone said a plane had hit the World Trade Center, and Chris, the Jamaican tailor, turned from his sewing machine in the front window and said, "Two. Two planes have hit the towers. Both of them." The dry cleaner is Le Kang, an Asian name, and the woman [...]
And again they are dancing on the roof. And again they hand out candies in the street. And the level of their joy rises in proportion to the number of casualties reported. And the grandpa who dreamed about peace, I mean dreamed until yesterday, kisses his grandaughter during her sleep, in the hope that her dreams will come true. Didi [...]
From 1965, when the World Trade Center was in its planning stages, until 1972, Edith Iglauer was a frequent visitor to the construction site of the World Trade Center, researching an article about the building’s foundation, known as "The Big Bathtub." The article, 'The Biggest Foundation', appeared in the New Yorker on November 4th, 1972. In 1993 she wrote a [...]
I used to gloat about it. Somebody would ask for my work mailing address and I’d reply slowly, evenly, Two-World-Trade-Center. And then pause a beat, just for effect – seventieth floor. Seven –zero. That’s right. There’d often be a comment, sometimes even a gentle, "wow." My reply varied depending on circumstance or mood. Occasionally, however, I was dead honest. It’s [...]
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