New York landmarks remind us who we are
In uncertain times, hold on to our shared humanity
New York is a city of landmarks. For tourists, they serve as markers in an unfamiliar place. The Empire State Building — midtown. One World Trade Center — Lower Manhattan. The George Washington Bridge — uptown.
To natives, these landmarks are more than geographical markers, because they symbolize the place where we work and live. It seemed fitting that Tuesday night found me walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.
When Sayfullo Saipov drove a truck down a bike path killing eight people and injuring a dozen, I was in The Rec
ord and NorthJersey.com newsroom, across the Hudson River. I was in the same space when planes crashed into the Twin Towers on Sept. 11, 2001.
Tuesday’s terror attack was not like that, not cataclysmic. But to the families of the victims and injured, it is a small point. Tuesday — and 9/11 was a Tuesday if you note such things — was also Halloween. In New York City, there is an annual parade in Greenwich Village. It attracts thousands of people from all over the metropolitan region. By the time I made it into Manhattan, the city was quiet. I’m sure it was not so calm along the parade route, but the rest of the city was subdued.
I made a stop at a watering hole where there were a few scattered costumes and a few conversations about the terror attack, but for the most part, it was like nothing had just happened. New Yorkers and New Jerseyans who worked in New York City after 9/11 would often say that if you were not in Lower Manhattan or near the impromptu shrines to the missing and dead, you might not know something horrific had occurred.
Tuesday night, there was a greater police presence, but nothing extreme. I got on a No. 4 subway to get back to Brooklyn. The train kept stopping between stations. Eventually, an announcement was made that “due to police activity at Wall Street,” all trains would stop at City Hall.
Then those weeks after 9/11 came back to me, when the dropped frosting of doughnut could bring the transit sys- tem to a halt as police investigated. And here we were again at the same place. In my case, almost literally because City Hall is a casual 10-minute walk away from where Tuesday’s terrorist was stopped by one of New York City’s finest.
When it was clear no train would come soon and my transfer options involved at least two more subway lines, I walked up the stairs to the approach of the Brooklyn Bridge. On 9/11, this venerable landmark was a lifeline out of hell. People covered in ash, stunned and fearful, walked by the thousands over the bridge to get home, something nearly 3,000 people that day did not do in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and at the Pentagon. As I got on the near empty bridge, I couldn’t help but think back. Where have we come these 16 years if we are here again?
Americans want the impossible: a guarantee nothing bad is going to happen here. And if the right person pitches an idea to fix it or a person to blame for it, we easily can believe that’s the answer. It’s not.
A friend in San Diego texted me and asked, “Why do we need to kill?” I replied, “Cain and Abel.”
The idea that terrorism is a recent invention or connected to people of one faith is not supported by history. Saipov, who reportedly shouted, “Allahu Akbar” or “God is great” in Arabic, lived in Paterson, 10 minutes from The Rec
ord’s newsroom. Whether he is connected to a terrorist organization or acted alone is unclear.
What’s clear is these random attacks are our new normal.
So in uncertain times, all we can do is keep faith in ourselves to be better than we thought we could be, to not lose sight of our shared humanity in the face of inhumane acts.
We need landmarks to remind us of where we are, who we are.
When I reached mid-span on the Brooklyn Bridge, I stopped and took in the view. The Empire State — midtown. One World Trade Center — Lower Manhattan. The Brooklyn Bridge — home.
All we can do is pray we and our loved ones find that path to the Brooklyn Bridge at the end of each day.