A Tragic Week, but Rebuild we mustSep 17 '01 Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line This tragedy has not defeated us, but left us stronger and better. Terror that one only reads about in newspapers, or watches on TV, stuff that regularly happens in someone else’s corner of the world, unfolding instead in your own backyard. It is a chilling wake-up call. The shock was indescribable. It is surreal when something you are familiar with, something that is indestructible, crumbles before your eyes. The lives lost, and missing for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Friends, family, loved ones, and strangers alike all swept up in disaster. As the crisis unfolded, people banded together. Traffic in normally gridlocked New York disappeared, and the city turned eerily quiet. Evacuees covered in concrete dust, almost resembling an army of undead, straggle en mass over the Brooklyn Bridge to safety. Almost like a scene from Escape from New York, Manhattan is shut down, with no one allowed to enter, nor allowed to escape. Residents make runs to the supermarket to stock up in case of the inevitable. High above, F-16 fighter jets replaced helicopters and airplanes, and in the streets, police, and the National Guard patrolled the streets. With the faint smell of smoke in the air, and the plumes of soot visible in the background, rescue volunteers at the front lines eagerly signed up for a chance to dig through the rubble. Many young, college types leave their name, telephone number, and the name of a next of kin. They don flimsy paper masks, effective as magic amulets, to guard against potentially toxic dust clouds. On TV, people mouth the words, “I will trade freedom for a bit of safety.” It’s a forgone conclusion; your rights and freedoms are fast disappearing as fear replaces rational thought. News, tragedy, death, and destruction, it’s no use watching TV with such sadness replayed over and over again. It’s trite and sad, tragedy turned to a one-minute sound bite for the evening news. There are better things to do beside dwell on death. Life must go on, and besides, it’s a really nice day out, as it always is after a rainstorm. Out in the streets, people relieved stress and forgot about the day’s events through shopping, and chores. Like a lazy Sunday afternoon at Central Park, people laughed and played in the grass, and sunbathed the afternoon away; only a faint burning smell to remind us of things happening downtown. In the sky, fluffy white clouds replace pale clouds of soot and ash, and a hawk can be seen circling instead of F-16’s. All over town, American flags pop-up as symbols of hope and defiance, as well as a sign of patriotism to ward off would be no-nothings looking to pick a fight with immigrants. Window displays all over Fifth Avenue feature the American Flag instead of Hugo Boss, or Calvin Klein. It is an American tragedy, we are told, and the world is united in sympathy with America. Missing also in the disaster are untold hundreds from other countries such as the UK. Makeshift memorials spring up everywhere, at parks, and at firehouses. As the city copes, the President visits. Deep in the rubble of ground zero, rescue workers urged war. At Union Square, where hundreds gathered to seek solace, and to light candles for the missing, all they want is peace and justice, not revenge. Scrawled in chalk on sidewalks over the Upper East Side, the message “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” A fire truck suddenly speeds by and people start clapping. New York’s Bravest, they lost hundreds when the towers crumbled. With steely resolve, fire rescuers dig through the rubble intent on finding lost comrades, most trade sleep for more time searching. The victims do not rest easy. Police frozen zones are moved progressively south in the days after the disaster. The zones stall at Canal Street. Barricades spring up, and like a city divided, some communities are off-limits to non-residents. Chinatown is once again split in two by the city, but they will persevere, as they always do. The weather turns hot, and then it turns cold; it rains; and it pours. Smoke from the disaster site is replaced by days of bone-chilling cold. Tired rescuers are fed and clothed by more volunteers. Exhausted workers are bused out, cheered on by still more volunteers and onlookers lining the West Side Highway, most hold up placards of gratitude, “Thank you”, reads one, “NY’s Bravest”, reads another. At Saint Vincent’s Hospital, doctors and nurses stand idle waiting for ambulances. A mere handful arrive, most bring injured rescuers with eye and respiratory problems with a precious few survivors counted among them, but hope does not fade. There are hundreds of rescuers searching for you. At a nearby pizza shop, a makeshift missing persons wall springs up alongside ads for Italian ices. Most of the posters feature pictures of smiling faces, whereabouts unknown. The company Cantor Fitzgerald is mentioned most frequently, they were located in the top floors of the first tower. More rescue volunteers sign up at the Jacob Javits Convention Center, but most are turned away. The outpouring of help, material assistance, and sympathy has been more than overwhelming, and the mayor advises, spend dollars to help New York. Yes, light a dollar and a joss stick, and pray the economy does not tip into recession. Saturday, the soot, and ash covering downtown is washed away. Wall Street must reopen Monday, and the streets are scrubbed clean, cleaner than any rain shower, and certainly cleaner than any sanitation street sweeper. The stink of death still lingers in the air near the disaster area, but it is business as usual, and the city must begin rebuilding. As the TV tunes out, the McDonalds commercial replaces Dan Rather. Big Brother, Lost, the Amazing Race, and other reality shows fill the airwaves once again. Up-to-date links for disaster relief information http://www.nyc.gov http://www.nytimes.com/national/resources/index.html http://www.nypost.com/news/regionalnews/wtchelpinfo.htm  |
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