New York Re-Creation

As we stepped off the train in Manhattan and arrived at the top of the first flight of stairs, our eyes fell on a large blue sign, boldly announcing "World Trade Center." All was new and fresh, like bread just out of the oven. To our left, tarps covered most of a high wire fence beyond which could be seen, through gaps, a jumble of cranes, metal framing, and foundational concrete. To our right and on some side walls, quotations about New York, its spirit, its people and their courage. Directly ahead, long escalators bringing us up into the light and energy of a summer day in NYC.

An optimistic hum, belying any rumoured gloom emanating from Wall Street or any sense of a city defeated by one of the worst terrorist acts in history, poured into and out of this temporary station as people came and went, a station hurriedly constructed to serve the needs of Jersey passengers into and out of Manhattan, until the time comes to build a more permanent abode for these commuters.

I had been to Manhattan twice before: once when I was 13, en route to Mexico, my parents and I spent the night in a hotel here. When we ventured out in the evening, thinking we might catch the subway to midtown Manhattan, we quickly changed our minds. Those days in the early 70's, New York subway stations were particularly eerie places. Unable to shake our unease in one such station, we returned to the relative safety of our hotel room. Between 1973 and 2002, when I next visited Manhattan with a family of my own, something had changed. A city once legendary for its high degree of criminal activity had somehow significantly lowered its crime rate in this interim. I felt the difference. According to Wikipedia, the murder rate in NYC in 2007 was the lowest since 1963.

Barely post-9/11 on this second visit, I was generally occupied with rehearsals in the lead-up to a choral performance at Carnegie Hall. Brian and the girls would mostly experience the city without me. I did, however, have one afternoon - the afternoon of our arrival. At the top of my list was a visit to Ground Zero. I had to see it with my own eyes.

Smoke still rose from the rubble nine months after the horrific events of September 11th, 2001. The gaping hole where two enormous towers once stood was petrifying; onlookers stood in stony silence. Fences, walls and windows in the vicinity were still plastered with the images of missing loved ones, their faces seemingly appealing to us to learn something from this. One wondered how NYC would ever recover. In NYC, creativity and self-expression seem to occur as readily as breathing. It comforted me to think that with a small gesture of my own, I would make that kind of contribution. Days later I joined with hundreds of voices and instruments in a musical performance that offered songs about the resilient human spirit and about peace.

Last week, as our train rolled into the World Trade Center station for what would be my third visit to this city, we caught glimpses of the construction site, alive with activity. We learned that the current phase of work is the construction of a memorial to the victims of 9/11. There will be a reflection pool and two large waterfalls, and completion for this phase is slated for 2011. Before anything else could be built, erecting a befitting memorial became top priority. Filled with admiration, I watched the workers carry themselves, in their work and in their breaks, with such dignity and pride. The city is healing. These workers are among the healers. They know what they are building.

New York City has turned its attention to the present and future. The events of 9/11 are woven into the fabric of its character, just as the new building taking root at this site appropriately incorporates a memorial in its design; but these events have not destroyed its spirit. NYC is more vital than ever, more dynamic, more creative, more resilient. We were struck by the village feeling, at every turn, that we experienced in such a vast city. No matter what the quandary, big or small, help was always at hand, and often unsolicited. On a couple of occasions, members of the esteemed NYPD reached out to us. Kira had a queasy stomach from the heat one afternoon and, quickly observing that there was a need, these officers were equally swift to assist. Strangers on buses hearing us wondering aloud where to find certain landmarks would readily abandon their books and become city guides. In both such acts, a pride of and passion for NYC was evident.

The spirit of a city, after all, is not its buildings, its fame, or its wealth. To destroy a city would be to break the spirit of its people. Post-9/11, that spirit is more brilliant than ever.