It was a privilege to be in New York City yesterday. These folks are tough. Damaged, surely, but unbroken, unbowed. Resilient, respectful. Determined.
Got on my bike at 7am Wednesday, not sure what to expect. On my ride down to Lower Manhattan, there were folks on every corner also finding their way. Flags, homemade signs, pictures of loved ones departed. It seemed neither funereal nor celebratory, but quietly committed to remembering and carrying on with resolve.
The area around the World Trade Center had more security than usual. Hundreds of police standing vigil, checking under cars with mirrors, inspecting trunks. Like any other morning, but in greater numbers, an awesome presence. Cruisers would speed by continually, headed somewhere, and their sirens broke what seemed to me, the uninitiated, an ominous quiet.
But the more I looked around, it occurred to me that this wasn’t really that different a day at all, and that’s what made it so momentous. These folks live with this every day. They remember it every day, and continue with their lives and their work undaunted. I was awestruck, inspired, and terribly, terribly sad. Then I got on with my day, just the way a New Yorker would expect me to.
It would appear that Mordecai has settled in quite nicely. Gill took him out for a long walk this morning. Evidently it was quite exhausting, and he needed a comfortable place to rest all day.
We headed over to Union Square to hang out with the other dogs, then returned home to do some studying for the last day of class tomorrow.
Rained tonight for the first time since we got here. Poured, really. When I heard the thunder, I thought about the 3-legged rat in Washington Square, hoping he was alright. Apparently he’s been through worse – he’s got 3 legs. He’ll be fine.
Gill spent the thunderstorm parked on the Garden State Parkway, as someone ahead of her had been hydroplaning across the flooded-out asphalt. She had a great view of the lightshow, forked lightning coming fast and furious, and nothing but time to enjoy it.
Around 9, I met Gill at the parking garage with the umbrella . We picked up some wine and groceries, then headed home to make dinner. New York traffic is always an adventure, but they crank it up a notch when the rain comes and the streetlights fail. A life and death dance to a symphony of horns. And not a drop of wine spilled.