I grew up listening to some great music. My dad made sure I was indoctrinated to the sounds of the 60's and 70's. Clorinda and I celebrated my completion of the bar exam by going to see the Eagles at the MGM Grand--to this day, my favorite concert of all time. After that concert, I told my wife that if Simon and Garfunkel would just get back together and go on tour, I could die a happy man. Within weeks, lo and behold, they announced an "Old Friends" tour that would include a stop in Las Vegas. We took my parents, but I'm pretty sure that Clorinda and I were the youngest people there by 20 years.
At one point, Paul Simon was talking about his guitar and Art Garfunkel commented about his own instrument--his voice. The comment struck me as odd, I mean, Simon did a lot of singing, too, and had enjoyed a much more successful solo career than had Garfunkel. But Garfunkel has one song that I really love, and his voice is a primary reason I like the song. A Heart in New York is a simple, somewhat melancholy tune, but Garfunkel's voice is perfect in it. Here, listen for yourself:
I've only actually been to New York one time, at Christmas in 2013. But about this time every year I think a lot about New York, as do a whole lot of people in this country.
On September 11, 2001, we were all up early in my house getting ready for school and work. The TV was on while the kids ate breakfast (as I'm writing this I'm realizing that my college freshman was in pre-school, and my high school freshman was 4 months old--that's incredible). The national news was reporting that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. They were speculating that there was something seriously wrong with the air traffic control that resulted in the plane accidentally hitting the tower. As they were reporting, with video playing of the smoke arising from the first tower, I watched as a second plane hit the other tower. I watched in disbelief.
Moments later, as we were heading out the door to drop the kids at my brother's house before going to school, the news reported that a helicopter had crashed into the Pentagon in Washington DC. (Obviously, that was not correct information.) I turned to Clorinda and asked if we were under attack. It was just surreal.
I had an early class, and we only briefly touched on the planes and the tower. The professor was only aware of the first tower having been hit at that point. After the hour was up, I left class to head to my carrel in the law library. A large group had gathered around one of the TVs mounted in the hall, and I watched with them as the first tower came crashing to the ground. And then the second as well.
The University canceled classes for that day. Law students were assigned carrels, or desks, and mine was in the basement of the law library. All of us had our laptops glued to CNN and other news outlets and stared in disbelief at the destruction we were witnessing on American soil. I imagine that you were much the same. We watched in shock as people leapt from the buildings, and with awe as firefighters, police officers, and emergency medical responders ran in to those same buildings from the bottom. We combed through dozens and hundreds of pictures that people had posted online, each one adding to the weight of the situation.
That night I held my children closely and wept. I cried for the parents who would never get to hug their children again, and for those children that would not feel the safe embrace of their mom or dad. I wept for the families of the first responders that so bravely ran into the danger to help those not in a position to help themselves. As Clorinda and I knelt by our bedside to pray, I sobbed for hundreds and thousands of people I didn't know.
In 2013, Clorinda's brother took us to ground zero. The new Freedom Tower was nearing completion, but the block was still surrounded in protective plywood fencing. We stood in line at dusk in freezing temperatures and waited our turn to walk into the campus and to visit the memorial. It was a somber experience to walk around the reflecting pools and to consider the events from all those years prior.
I know my story is not unique, and it does not compare with those who lost family members and friends that day. I was there only because of modern technology sending me sights and sounds over the internet. But that experience impacted me. With apologies to Art Garfunkel, my words won't make a dime's worth of difference, but here's to you New York (and Washington DC and Pennsylvania).
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