In my experience New Yorkers are, in an overall sense, a pretty genuine bunch.
It is said that “a drunken man”s words are a sober man”s thoughts.” In other words, what is already a characteristic of a person materializes; whether good or bad.
The people of New York City exposed who they were in time of tragedy, pain and immense loss on Sept. 11, 2001.
Amid the chaos the city”s collective consciousness emerged.
Some of the most beautiful, compassionate, thoughtful, caring and unselfish people surfaced, because that”s who they are, beneath sometimes surly or cynical demeanors.
New Yorkers have a tendency to do good deeds without fanfare and without need for recognition.
Countless times someone did something fantastic for me there. When I tried to offer thanks or even money I typically got the response, “forget about it” (pronounced something like: fahhw geet abowd it).
Often when a tragedy occurs, people are good to each other for a little chunk of time and then the memory fades. In my opinion, that is not the case in New York City. There is a silent understanding and appreciation for life — a knowing.
There”s also evidence of pain in people”s eyes. That is permanent, I fear.
I visited the World Trade Center nine months before the horrific happening. I did it as a favor to my former fianc?, Cody.
I grew up going on field trips to all the major historical sites and points of interest in the city.
But it was Cody”s first time in the Big Apple and he wanted to visit the twin towers, among all the other tourist attractions.
It wasn”t so much that I took the places for granted, or maybe I did, because there is so much do in Manhattan and never enough time to do it all.
I later thanked Cody for being the catalyst for my final visit to the World Trade Center.
At home in California, we watched the television in terror and disbelief, as most did — the broadcast interwoven with worry for my family and friends.
Relief washed over me when I finally heard my dad”s voice, even though his tone was one I didn”t recognize. He admitted, he would never be the same.
His train to work passed through the Trade Center not long before the first plane struck the tower.
It goes without saying, but I”ll say it anyway: I am so fortunate and grateful that my family is safe.
Though the city and its people persevere, the suffering continues. It is not limited to the monumental emotional scars.
Go ask Alice …
The Back Fence Bar on Bleecker Street at the corner of Thompson is a landmark music venue in Greenwich Village. Musicians perform every night.
It”s tough to secure a spot and you can”t sit at a table unless you”re with a group filling every available seat.
I stood against the wall by myself. I must have been in my late 20s then.
I was tapping my foot on the sawdust and peanut shells to Jim Croce”s hit “Don”t Mess Around With Jim,” performed by a talented man on acoustic guitar, Cary Scope. A woman stood next to me. She looked familiar. I would find out why later.
A table for two opened up. We both glanced over and fixed our eyes on it, as though we might make a mad dash for it before some lucky couple swooped in. She said, “Hey, you wanna pretend we”re friends and grab that table?”
Yep, I did. I told her “maybe we will be friends. Who knows?”
We are friends. We have been since that night.
I recognized her because she was the actress who played a nurse on Sesame Street.
She also appeared in many shows I”d never seen, such as Law & Order, One Life to Live, and All My Children, among hundreds of other television shows, movies and video games. She performed in Broadway productions regularly.
Her resume is far too extensive to list all of her accomplishments and I really only mention Alice”s accolades because her career slowed, nearly to a complete halt after Sept. 11, 2001.
The World Trade Center attack and its aftermath exposed hundreds of thousands of people to debris, dust, smoke and fumes.
Alice was one of those people.
Studies conducted among rescue, clean-up, office workers, evacuees and residents of lower Manhattan indicated increased respiratory problems, among many other symptoms — dubbed 9/11 Syndrome.
Alice lives in Lower Manhattan in a modest East Village flat.
In 2002, after about a year of a persistent cough and extreme fatigue, Alice went to a doctor who diagnosed her with sarcoidosis, an auto-immune disease that can attack any organ of the body.
It often starts in the lungs or lymph nodes. It typically affects people ages 20 to 40. Women are twice as likely as men to develop it.
It is chronic for about one-third of people suffering from it.
I”m afraid that Alice may be in that population.
It”s been 10 years.
She hasn”t been able to return to the tedious schedule and long hours required of an actor. She did write a cool book a few years ago and even used a quote of my review of it on the jacket.
I saw Alice two years ago when I was in New York. We met at the Back Fence.
I also finally went with my daughters to the site where the majestic towers once stood strong.
Gone, and in the place, a gaping hole with a wooden tunnel crossing.
Occasionally I check out the plans for the proposed new towers and anxiously await the day when the skyline makes sense again.
“On a morning beatific, in its Indian summer breeze. On the day that America fell to its knees …
“And the shock was subsonic. And the smoke was deafening. Between the setup and the punch line. ”Cause we were all on time for work that day. We all boarded that plane for to fly.
“And then while the fires were raging, we all climbed up on the windowsill. And then we all held hands and jumped into the sky. And every borough looked up when it heard the first blast. And then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed. And the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar, looked more like war than anything I”ve seen so far.” –Ani DiFranco (excerpts from Self-Evident)
Mandy Feder is the Record-Bee managing editor. She can be reached at mandyfeder@yahoo.com or 263-5636 ext. 32.
