Mr. Vanderleun, you have captured in a very short essay, all of the tragedy of 9/11 in New York. Thank you sir, from the bottom of my heart.

This says a great deal about grace, sacrifice and more. It reminds me of this:

“Was not Nagasaki the chosen victim, the lamb without blemish, slain as a whole burnt offering on an altar of sacrifice, atoning for the sins of all nations during World War II?” - Dr. Takashi Nagai 1908-1951, on Martyrdom, from All Saints by Robert Ellsberg

Every day, sometimes several times a day, I log onto American Digest, and I am disappointed that there is no new essay. And then, when I am almost hopeless, there is today's beautiful writing.

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Wow. Just... wow.

I've written to you once before to compliment you on your writing skills and on your very good humor. I write this time to say that I, too, had a view of that day, only after the events, from midtown where I work, and from the ferry that took me from 12th Avenue on the west side to Port Imperial in West New York. From there I walked a couple of miles to my apartment where I still live. The utter and complete disbelief I experienced that late afternoon as the ferry backed out onto the Hudson and the view of the entire southern half of the island engulfed in a white/gray cloud of smoke is still more than I can really comprehend. The fury and the sorrow I felt was even deeper than I knew in those horrific moments. I don't know that I have or ever will get over it. My neighbors, my countrymen, reduced to ash and smoke. Your description here is beautiful and so very painful. I was a mere 34 years old that day. I plan to live to be a very old woman, and for as long as I live I will never forget that day, the fury, the sorrow, and the absolute insanity that engulfed every single one of us who saw it up close. I thank you for not forgetting it either.

The quick intake of breath, the shock, the wide-eyed stare and later, the panting, grunting labor in the pit opened our bodies to receive their remains. They will ever be part of us, but our tears, still clear, never ran gold.

The Angel in thw Whirlwind.

The Angel in the Whirlwind.

I am without words, except to say thank you.

Thank you.

I consider myself very lucky to have found your blog. Thank you for sharing your talent.

Beautiful and evocative. The best essay I've ever read describing this time and place.

A beautiful piece. And heartbreaking.

Remember . . . THEY want you to forget.

History is coming for us all . . .

Wow.

Thank you.

We forget why we went to war, why men and women are in foreign lands giving their all---even their lives---to stop such things from happening again. Not just for us, but for people around the world.

What happened Sept. 11th 2001 was the act of bullies, an act of arrogance. It was done by men so sure of themselves and their motives they were convinced we would fold like a badly built tower of straw. And, with their greatest enemy made low, they would march on to glorious victory over a quavering world.

Thus is hubris brought low by its own deeds. A pustulent ambition cut off by the essential rot within and the work of those it treated so shabbily.

We made mistakes, we've lost good people, hysterics and control freaks slime our freedoms, but overall we've made progress. It would be a far different situation at home had the administration made the Iraqi violations of the armistice the causus belli, but we must live with what the administration did instead and continue with the struggle to save a nation and its people.

People insist that we complete the job in months, giving no thought to the possibility it may take years, if not generations. Are we ready to spend generations preparing a distant land for true independence? Are we ready to send our grandchildren and their grandchildren to the land between the rivers to work with the people there. Are we ready to make the Iraqis American like us if that's what it takes to get things working again?

On a morning in the late Summer of 2001 the world changed. Since then it has continued to change. What it will become is still to be determined.

just to state the obvious...you are a damn fine writer. Thank you for taking the time to maintain your blog.

Note that the specks almost never made it onto television. I only remember one, and the horror I felt at that hemisphere of gray and pink. Later that day, someone on NBC said that the networks had decided not to show any of the victims falling or hitting the ground -- because to do so would make us angry.
Thus spoke our owners.

As a young lady in the 70's I lived on Pierrepont St. in a beautiful brownstone apartment. Just the other day I was telling someone that the windows in the apartment were huge, the quality of light inside was fantastic and I had house plants as drapes. I regularly ate in the Middle Eastern restaurants on Atlantic Ave. and walked the promenade frequently.
Now a Long Islander, I also remember 9-11 as the day the air traffic stopped to be replaced by the distinctive sound of F-16's running a racetrack pattern out over my home and back in again.
What a beautiful essay. More so because I see through your eyes a horrific sight from a place that I know and love.

A haunting, melancholy essay. Thank you.

Gerard, there is something about the legendary, but even so much more about the legends which are true. We are blessed to live in a time in which there is a legend which we are able to believe because we were there.

That is to say, many legends are true, but over the years they get painted over so many times that we can casually disbelieve them. This, not so.

What is more saddening is that there even exist people who cannot believe what is right in front of them.

Beautiful. Thank you.

May I add my voice to the eloquent remarks above?

It is a joy to experience such powerful writing.

The juxtaposition of pictures featuring Barack on his bike and the whirlwind of dust at ground zero congealed into a that scariest of childhood emblems of evil: the wicked witch peddling through the Kansas tornado in The Wizard of Oz.

I remember this one. And I remember it every time I see dust blowing on the breeze, catching the light.

Sad, isn't it, that in only seven years people are already forgetting/disbelieving?

To comment is to stir the calm, and yet. . . just beautiful.

Some saw the Devil's face in the smoke.
Others don't believe in such things.

JWM

The words I'm typing are just standing in for bowing my head.

My country tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing.

Thank you Vanderleun.

Gerard, I am curious about political transformations, as I too have undergone an 180. My sense is that for most of your life you were to the left of the spectrum.

Was this the day that did it for you?

Evocative piece. Well done.

Well, I'd say that this was the day that did it for good, but I had been tending in that direction for several years before this.

Great piece. Thanks. And the site with the images is awesome also.

As a long time Heights dweller I can tell you that the locals voted for Obama in locksteps, notwithstanding the Arabic neighborhood 9/11 celebrations four blocks south ...