It has been nearly a year since the horrific events of September, 2001. For me, that month will be the defining time of my life. My father passed away on September 2, after being bed-ridden in the hospital for two months. His diabetes had weakened him to such a state that he was not able to fight off the ferocious strain of pneumonia that would eventually kill him. Then, nine days later, I witnessed the greatest mass murder in 21st century America. From the roof of my friend's building, I watched in unspeakable horror as the twin towers of the World Trade Center burned and crumbled before my eyes-the targets of hateful, religious zealots from the east. It has been a very trying time for my mother and me. Both events ripped apart our lives. My mother was crying every single day since my father died. She also could not bear to see anything on television dealing with the twin towers. For both of us, the death of my father and the destruction of the World Trade Center will be forever linked, since both events happened so close to each other. New York City had always been an escape for me. I would go there to hang out, and try to relieve stress. But at that time, there was nowhere to go. Not that heading to New York City would have really helped much, if at all-but at least I could find some way to divert my mind from the loss of my father. The terrorist attacks of September 11 effectively snuffed that avenue out. Everywhere I looked, there was death. Everywhere I looked, people were grieving. There was no solace to be found. To add to all that, there was the all-too-real fact that I could easily have been among the thousands of dead at the World Trade Center. All this had a devastating effect on me. Then, on top of all this, I nearly lost my mother at the beginning of this year. Shortly before New Year's Eve, my mother was cooking a turkey. The cheap aluminum tray she was using bent on one corner, spilling scalding hot gravy onto her left foot. I took her to the hospital-the one where my father had died-and they decided to keep her there for a few days to make sure she wasn't suffering any infection. During one of the tests, the doctors found that her aorta was dilated. Blood had broken through the inner wall of the aorta, and was halfway through to reaching the outer wall. If the outer wall ruptured, my mother would die instantly. She was rushed to Colombian Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City for a 6-hour operation to have that section of the aorta replaced. I never thought things could get worse, but I was at the absolute lowest point of my life. There was no one I could really turn to for help. I really thought that my life was over by that point. After a month, my mother recovered enough to be sent home. Things slowly began to improve. While our financial situation wasn't great, at least we still had each other. It truly was a very trying six months for my mother and me. We are still recovering. I'm not the same person I was before all these events happened. I'll never be that person again. I look back at who I was, and that person is alien to me. I'm not sure I will ever fully heal. I never took things for granted even before these events happened, but I had never experienced the loss of a close family member before, nor had I ever witnessed a murder. Both these events of that black September taught me some hard, horrific lessons. For the first time, I fully understood loss. No matter how sympathetic you may be to another person's loss, you simply can't comprehend what that is like unless you've been through it yourself. And as for the 9/11 slaughter, there are other lessons. First and foremost, there is the huge difference in seeing such a disaster unfold on television as opposed to seeing it actually happening live before your very eyes. You see terrorist attacks on television, and while it may move you, it's still just an image. It's only a reflection of the real thing. Secondly, while this attack didn't surprise me, it did remind me that I am just as vulnerable to this type of insanity as folks half a world away. Despite feeling all this angst, fear, insecurity, and grief, I had to push myself to move on. My belief is that most people don't give a damn about anyone but themselves, and that if you sit around waiting for a helping hand, more often than not, you'll end up being ignored. Everyone has problems, and it's up to the individual to deal with them. So, I pushed through my pain. It isn't easy, but what about life is? And the victims of this tragedy, as well as the people of New York City, had to do the same. I went down to Ground Zero again at the beginning of June to take some more pictures. I thought that perhaps it would be a good idea for me to create my own visual chronology of the recovery effort at Ground Zero. At the time these photos were taken, enough of the debris had been removed so that people could get a closer look at what was left. I had ridden by there about a month before on my bike. It was an emotional time. And those emotions welled up again with this visit. In order to get a better look inside the pit, there was an elevated ramp across the street from the site. Once more, what moved me in particular was what wasn't there. There was this large empty area, where the twin towers and several other buildings should have been standing. Where the tops of the towers reached into the heavens, there was nothing but blue sky. All that was left was this massive square hole in the ground. It looked like your typical construction site. I wish it were. Overhead, a plane flew by. It was a commercial aircraft. I couldn't help but feel a chill. The irony was horrific. Afterwards, I walked around to take a look at different shrines that were set up. There were vendors who were selling magazines and post cards dealing with the attack. As before, there were quite a number of people in the neighborhood. There was a quiet reverence present. As of this writing, I have no clue as to what will be built on this spot. One thing that is almost certain is that there will not be buildings built to the height of the twin towers. While there should definitely be a shrine honoring the dead, I personally feel that a couple of buildings should be erected that are the height of the old towers. My feeling is that anything smaller would be caving in to the terrorists. But it really doesn't matter what I think. In the end, it will come down to the wishes of the victims' families, other New Yorkers, and economics. I'm able to go back to New York now, and experience the joy I once used to experience. But there will always be an under-current of sorrow. This city has the dubious distinction of being the site of the greatest mass murder in 21st century America. It is also the site of the greatest terrorist attack in world history. I'll never understand the kind of hatred that causes things like this to happen. Unfortunately, humans are a violent species, and have been so since their inception. I can't say I have a lot of faith in humanity. We boast about our technology. We are able to send probes out into deep space, and we are able to cure diseases. And yet, there is that savage, primitive part of us that still defines us as apes who have a lot of evolving to do. I'm not sure if we ever will evolve. One can hope, but frankly, hope is not enough in my opinion. Too much close-mindedness runs abound. Humans can be incredibly ignorant and fearful as well. There is also jealousy, rage, and a thirst for power and control. In order for there to be real progress, these problems have to be dealt with. And this is far easier said than done. It's easy to see why. Look at what's happening on television and in newspapers. Look at your daily lives. Yes, humanity has a lot of growing up to do. Will we ever truly mature as a species? I'm not holding my breath on that one. Saul Trabal August 20, 2002 I went to Ground Zero on the anniversary of the attacks. It was a sad, emotional day. To read about my experiences that day, go here. BACK TO THE THE LUCY LAWLESS IN GREASE PAGE