One night on my way home from my internship, I decided that I would get off at a different subway stop and just try to find my way home. Considering my sense of direction, I should have known this was a bad idea. I got flustered, confused, and lost. Eventually, I found Broadway and a savior who pointed me in the right direction. But not before I stumbled across Ground Zero. The gash in the concrete was lit with stadium lights giving off a deceptively safe glow compared to the dim street lights. I stood on the abandoned street, laced my fingers into the chain link fence that surrounded the area, and watched the rubble shimmer in the light. In this surreal scene, I resolved to come back in the daylight.
On Saturday, I returned and found the street bustling with activity. In a bizarre juxtaposition, a Century 21 (a huge designer discount store) stands across the street from Ground Zero. Waves of people pushed and squeezed their way into the store for its annual winter clearance sale. They fought for the best deals, unsheathed hangers, clutched the good finds to their chest, and triumphantly waited in the check out line with their latest fashion statement, oblivious to the wreckage resting outside the window. At first, I was horrified. How could these people completely ignore the site of destruction, terror, and sadness across the street?
After my initial disgust, I realized that this commercial gluttony represented how far the city had come since 9/11. As Don Henley once sang, "everything can change in a New York minute." In recognizing that in one moment Manhattan can be devastated, New Yorkers understand that every moment holds infinitely positive potential as well. The best way to pay to tribute to the tragedy and the city is to recognize the dynamics of a New York minute and allow the change to carry them through their lives. Formerly a wasteland of ruins, the area surrounding Ground Zero now houses people, businesses, and culture. I had no reason to be disgusted; pride would be a more appropriate response.
