New York did rise from the ashes

On September 11th of 2001, they took a slice out of the Big Apple and a chunk out of my heart.

Born and raised in Brooklyn, one of the five New York boroughs, my proudest times are when someone says, “You’ve got to be from New York, right.?” Of course a Nu Yawker says you gottabe be from Nu Yawk. Yes, we speak our own language.

On June 1st of that year, I relocated to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Not from New York, but from South Florida. I did not like South Florida, but I do like New York and Santa Fe.

So much happening in New York, and now you can add these moving moments when first one airplane flew into One World Trade Center, and followed by another crashing into the other side of the huge building.

I remember I was out taking a morning run, and when I got home, a neighbor called out that ‘We have been attacked.’ So I rushed upstairs, turned on my television and couldn’t believe what I was seeing on all the channels. Who, when, what, where were questioned to be answered.

Except I myself didn’t have a clue, but as the minutes became mid-morning, I heard more details, not much yet about who was operating these planes, but it would come later.

As the smoke continued to pour out of the buildings and the cameras focused on people desperately jumping from the building, One World Trade Center was rocking, finally collapsing and falling to the ground as people fled and police and firemen hurried to save survivors as the fires blocked the way into and up to the above offices.

I could only watch, thinking about those I know or knew who worked in that building and also Two World Trade Center next to it that also tumbled down. I knew my long-time friend Jimmy Sansone’s son Jim, worked there for the FBI and relocated there after several years spent in Washington D.C. I also knew that his younger brother, T.J., had visited him there recently.

So I tried to contact T.J. and his dad, but never reached either one. I checked newspaper lists the next day to check on those that had survived and those that died, but no luck there. Then there were my friends from New Jersey, Karen and Mark, who spent all of Wednesday passing out fliers regarding their missing father, Roger Mark Rastweiler, who worked for an insurance company of the 100th floor of Two WTC.

But I couldn’t reach them either, so I just sat home and continued to watch this dismal happening, even learned that both planes were taken over by terrorists when they took off from Boston. Difficult to believe that this was happening, but it sure was.

Now I’d been through many of these happenings. In 1965, the first of two massive power failures brought blackouts that occurred during the rush hours. I was on the E train heading home from Manhattan when everything came to a half on the Brooklyn Bridge and a crowded train sat there for hours.

In 1977, the power blew around 8:30 at night, and when I stepped into my building elevator, everything went dark and nothing operated. So I walked six flights in total darkness as the entire city shut down.

Yes, New York has really been struck. The transit strike, the taxi cab strike, the sanitation workers strike, the newspaper strike, and even the strike by the police department at the same time that Mohammed Ali was fighting Ken Norton at Yankee Stadium for the heavyweight championship.

Then there was 1993 when a bomb was placed in the lower half of One World Trade Center, and seven lives were lost.

But nothing like this. This is one I missed. This is one I was missing some friends, some employed in the WTC, some in nearby buildings. I never found out what happened to them.

On 90 Church Street — just north of where this unimaginable tragedy crushed the heart and soul of Manhattan’s West Side, where I first enlisted in the United States Navy, I signed up with my neighborhood friend, Tony Buscemi, and when he finished his tour, I found out he was working for Secret Service in One WTC. I few years later I did find him alive and well as actor Tony Darrow.

It was in 1966 that construction began on the Twin Towers. It was completed in 1970 and looked out at the Statue of Liberty that stood tall on Liberty Island in upper New York Bay. I drove past them many times on the West Side Highway, where the lower end led to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, which had to close down that day and still had traffic backed up on both ends.

The long, narrow island of Manhattan, upon which New York’s complex network of bridges and tunnels converge, is the city’s economic and cultural heart. It is the country’s largest port and world leader in trade and finance.

The NYC Marathon has to be regarded as one of the best sporting events in the nation because of how people embrace it. I know, I’ve run it 11 times, including the first time in 1970 around two long loops in Central Park.

There’s music in NYC, “New York, New York,” “East Side, West Side” “New York, New York is a Wonderful Town,” “We’ll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten Island,” “Every Street’s a Boulevard in Old New York,” There’s even a song for the 59th Street Bridge.

But my favorite is Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” Imagine, there’s so much to this city, they have to say it twice.

Eleven bridges, four tunnels. The Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges connect Brooklyn to Manhattan. The Williamsburg Bridge connects Queens to Manhattan. The Bronx-Whitestone Bridge connects Queens to the Bronx. The Triboro Bridge connects Queens to Manhattan and to the Bronx.

Yes, NYC is a real trip, and on this Tuesday morning added to the hard times its people have gone through. But believe me, these folks always pull together, except that now two decades after this disaster, up in Albany the governor has resigned for personal reasons, the New York mayor has wiped out all the glory and happy times that the city once enjoyed, but thank you Mets, Yankees, Nets, Knicks, Rangers, Islanders, and Giants and Jets for hanging in there.

Flying into NYC is a real treat, especially when you approach the southern end and especially at night where you marvel at the sights below. It’s even better when you have a window seat. No politics here, only a picturesque look at something special.

The city that never sleeps? Whatever, it was a target that Sept. 11th morning, it was an awaking call, but nothing to fall asleep over from New York, New York, because there’s always a happening there, and this disaster, a surprise attack from the skies proved it.

I thought President George W. Bush and New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani did a marvelous job being at the scene. They took turns reassuring the concerned people that help is being offered then and will continue. There were those who prayed for those still trapped inside both WTC buildings.

It was the only thing that all network channels ran that day and through the night. It brought constant discussions throughout the country. Among the many casualties were the firemen and policemen, as well as volunteers who hurried to assist. Meanwhile, families searched for lists of survivors, for lists of those that perished, checked out the nearby hospitals, most asking questions as tears flowed.

To write about it two decades later isn’t easy. It’s a reminder of memories that fell on the big city that morning. At the site, there’s a new, tall World Trade Center standing as well as reconstructed buildings in the area that were damaged. More reminders, but to be honest, never to be forgotten.

Yet, even with this disaster, it’s still New York, New York. The only changes through these years has been danger in the streets from the east side to the west side, from north to south. This has brought rioting, shooting, killing, people moving elsewhere, and a confused mayor who probably doesn’t have a clue and no doubt sleeps a lot.

AMEN!