"Violence...Not the pale, pallid nonsense Starsky and Hutch indulge in [on television] every week. Real violence. Sudden, inexplicable, ghastly...How seldom we see it. How unhinged we become in the face of it. Because when it really happens, when it manifests itself on its most primitive, amoral level...we understand just how fragile is the tissue of social behavior."

Harlan Ellison: Scenes From The Real World, Edgeworks, Volume 2

The month of September, 2001 is one I would like to forget happened. But no matter how badly I'd like this to be, it can't. My life changed forever in those black days of early September, 2001. This was without a doubt the darkest time of my life.

My father passed away on September 2, at around 8:50 p.m. He had been bed-ridden for two months, on a respirator. He was suffering from complications of diabetes. What finally killed him was a fierce bout of pneumonia. He had been sick for a long, long time. We knew it was coming. But no matter how much you try to prepare for a loved one's death, you can't. It crushed my mother and me. My dad was only 62 years old.

Nine days later, on the morning of September 11, 2001, thousands of families would join me in grief. What made their loss worse was the fact that their loved ones were butchered by heartless, misguided fools-sent on their ghoulish mission by a monster from a far-off land, under the guise of religion.

As I was about to head out with my mother that morning, a friend of mine called, telling me that a plane-a 737-had crashed into the World Trade Center. He invited me to his house. I rushed over. We went to the top of his building, which is across the river, in New Jersey. Upon reaching the top, I saw an eerie, horrifying sight. I will take it to my grave.

The top of both World Trade Center buildings were enveloped in thick, black smoke. Huge tongues of flame erupted from the floors immeditately below. My friend had binoculars. I asked for them, and took a closer look.

If you looked at the World Trade Center from the west, the tower to your left had a huge antenna on it. I was looking at the one on the right. About halfway down the side of that tower, there was a large hole, where flames were erupting forth. Smoke billowed high into the clear morning sky.

I then gazed at the left tower. Just below the smoke, whole floors were on fire. I estimated the flames were anywhere from 150 to 200 feet high. As I looked between the buildings, I could see debris falling from the south side of the north tower. One piece of debris stuck out. It was a large section of building, almost the size of a football field. It tumbled through the air, down towards the streets below. A chill unlike anything I've ever felt went through me. I realized I was watching thousands of people dying. And I knew that some of the debris I was observing had to be people.

I'll tell you this. No matter how many times you've seen this disaster on TV or in photos, it pales in comparison to seeing it actually happening live before your very eyes.

I briefly went downstairs with my friend, and caught some footage on CNN. We got his police scanner, and turned it on. As my friend and I were climbing the stairs to the roof, we heard something absolutely chilling on the scanner. It was a firefighter. His statement was loud and abrupt.

"The south tower has collapsed. I repeat-the south tower has collapsed."

My friend and I stared at each other in horror. We rushed upstairs in a flash. Upon reaching the roof, the right tower was gone. In its place was a massive cloud of grayish-white smoke. I took my friend's binoculars, and looked at the remaining tower. The fire continued to spread down, from floor to floor. The flames were huge. I turned to my friend. "That building will collapse, too." I said. "As the fire spreads downward, and the structures begin to fail, each floor will fall on top of the other." We headed downstairs again, to my friend's apartment. As we turned on CNN, we saw footage of the second building crashing down into the earth in a thick cloud of grayish-white smoke. Unfortunately, I turned out to be right.

I quickly did some shopping, figuring that perhaps folks were preparing for some sort of attack here. I went by Christ Hospital, where my father died. Rows upon rows of stretchers were waiting for the wounded. Across to the east, a great roiling cloud of white smoke rose from where the twin towers once stood. The rest of the day was absolutely surreal. We watched the news, and listened to the scanner some more. One policeman, his voice trembling violently from emotion, spoke about finding some of his comrades pinned under a car.

I have taken the train through there many, many times. Years ago, I stood at the top of the right tower. It was an incredible view. It chills me that I could easily have been among the thousands of dead. I was a witness to the greatest terrorist attack of the 21st century. It was the most horrific thing I've seen in my life. I never want to see anything like this again. It's not something anyone should be subjected to.

The lowest point of this period-and of my life-came when I had to bring my father's clothes to the Salvation Army. There were six bags in all. I brought them upstairs to the second floor. I looked at the young man behind the booth. "Where do I put these bags of clothes?" I asked. "In the dumpster-down the hall." he replied. I proceeded to dump the clothes in there. I felt like I was tossing trash. These were things that belonged to my father-my own flesh and blood. It was ripping my insides out. I left the Salvation Army. As I drove off, I thought about what I had just done. Then I looked towards the New York City skyline, where that massive white cloud rose from the World Trade Center ruins. I realized that thousands of families would have to do what I just did. I pulled off to the side of the road and cried like a baby for a solid twenty minutes. It was just too much to bear.

In early December, I made my second trip to the ruins of the World Trade Center. Earlier, I only gazed at Ground Zero from afar, and I was with friends. This time, I wanted to come back alone. It was something I needed to do. I had to go there to pay my respects and reflect on the greatest mass murder in 21st century America-and the greatest terrorist attack in world history.

I got onto the A train at 4th Street and Broadway and rode it down to Chambers Street. When the train arrived at Canal Street, the conductor's voice said over the loudspeaker, "Chambers Street, Ground Zero next."

I honestly didn't know what to think of that at the time. There was something...ridiculous about him saying this. Why advertise what it is? All you had to do was look at a subway map. There are plenty of them in the subway system-and you'd know from looking at it where Ground Zero was. As I think about it now, I'm actually offended by what the conductor said. What the hell was this-a carnival?? "That's right folks-to the left of you is the two-headed lady." That's what it felt like when he announced the next stop was Ground Zero.

I got off at Chambers Street and walked west a couple of blocks. Then I looked south. I could see one of the collapsed buildings, and some of the debris had been cleared away. I was a couple of blocks closer to it. I couldn't smell any smoke.

I decided to walk around the circumference of Ground Zero, to try and get a look at some different angles of the disaster. I walked across the West Side Highway. Security was pretty tight. There were plenty of police and Army around. I saw water being sprayed on the remains of a partially collapsed building. Eventually, parts of it crashed into the earth. There was no one nearby. No one got hurt, apparently.

I continued on South, towards Battery Park. I was passing the spot where the ferry crosses from Lower Manhattan into Downtown Jersey City. I looked at two structures in particular; one which had the appearance of a giant arch, which was made of greenish glass. There was some structural damage inside it. To its left was a tall building. Large chunks had been ripped out of the side of it. It looked as if a giant rat had taken bites out of it. Many of the windows were boarded up.

I continued on, and I saw a large shrine-probably the largest I saw at Ground Zero.

Candles were all along the ledge. Dozens upon dozens of soaked teddy bears were on the ground and up along the top of the ledge. It had been raining eariler in the day. What struck me was the amount of young folks pictured along this shrine. Many of these folks were people my age and younger. (I'm 36, as of this writing.) As I looked at each picture, I thought about the fact that they are with my dad now. As I said before-seeing something like this on TV is nothing compared to seeing it in person. That's when the full impact really hits you. Mothers and fathers...sisters and brothers, of different nationalities and different ages. All that is left of them are these images, some of them wet and dog-eared, placed along the ledge.

The smell hit me again. While not as powerful as before, it was still pungent. A terrible burning smell. As I looked at the images of the victims, I breathed in that horrid smell of death-still here two and a half months later. It added a gruesome quality to the moment.

I walked on. I saw what remained of the north tower. It seemed to be the northeast corner of the north tower. It was all that was left of the World Trade Center. It stood there like some ghoulish Erector Set from Hell. It was discolored and was whitish-gray, the color of soot, with blotches of reddish brown running up and down parts of it.

Many people had come to see Ground Zero. As I walked along a tiny street south of Ground Zero, the crowds of people were condensed into these little lines where no more than two people could stand shoulder to shoulder. It became the human equivalent of a traffic jam. I was patient. I moved along with them slowly, observing the surroundings. Large sections of street had been ripped open, and new pipes were being laid down, possibly to reroute them around the disaster site. I finally made it onto Broadway, and there was a thick, massive river of people moving along the west side of Broadway. It was like being in a sardine can at times.

I saw a young couple, squeezed in among the river of humanity, slowly moving forward in front of me. The man held a tiny baby close to his chest. From the looks of it, being so tiny, it had to be a newborn-no more than maybe a month old, if that. The mother had a camera, and was looking around for a possible shot. I couldn't help but be furious at this. What in the world were these people doing walking around here with a tiny infant?! I can't get over the irresponsibilty of some folks.

Eventually, the line of people moving forward slowed down. I found an opening in the barricade to my right and crossed Broadway. I made my way towards Park Row and got onto the subway again, heading up-town.

It was an emotional time I spent there. In closing, I want to share with you a moving piece someone wrote that had been placed alongside the picture of one young man, one of thousands who died that horrific morning of September 11, 2001.

Take care.

-Saul Trabal

December 25, 2001

MISS ME-BUT LET ME GO

When I come to the end of the road, and the Sun has set for me
I want no rites from a gloom-filled room
Why cry for a son set free
And not with your head bowed low, remember the love we once shared
Miss me-but let me go.

For this is a journey we all must take, and each must go alone
It's all part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home
When you are lonely and sick of heart...
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrow doing good deeds-
Miss me-but let me go!