Año 3 • No. 115 • septiembre 8 de 2003 Xalapa • Veracruz • México
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I remember the Twin Towers
By Jay Bildstein
There are few times when writing provokes in me the desire to cry. This is one of those times. I am a native of New York City. For ten years the center of my existence was the World Trade Center, globally known as the Twin Towers. The towers are gone. More than 3000 people of every nationality, race and religion are dead because of a barbarous, indiscriminate act of heinous violence perpetrated against people going about
the business of earning a living to feed their families. A substantial number of those lost on September 11th, 2001 were Mexican folks who on that day found themselves in New York . They are now gone, along with people of 80 different countries who had congregated in those towers for the purpose of being productive. I have no illusions about my country. I am a citizen of the United States of America. Sometimes I am very proud of what the nation of my birth does, sometimes I am profoundly ashamed of its actions, yet in this case, I write to all of you as not simply a citizen of the U.S.A, not simply as a New Yorker as ordained by my birth, but as a member of the actual community that was destroyed two years ago. If you never meet someone whose village was destroyed by violence, you have now.

For some years I lived literally across the street from the Twin Towers in an area known as Battery Park City. Then as now it was an enclave for people who worked in the Wall Street area. A beautiful neighborhood, it was filled with folks from all over the world. With its views of New York Harbor and the Statue of Liberty it was a most delightful place to live. I wonder how my old neighbors survive each day with that gapping hole, the loss of the Trade Center, branded into their consciousness, not simply by its horrific destruction but by its proximity to their dwellings.

The destruction of the Twin Towers and the surrounding buildings is said to equal approximately 75 city blocks. This would have to be the equivalent of the leveling of downtown Xalapa. To me that thought is as unimaginable as it is repugnant, yet it happened to my village, my neighborhood. It is now two years later and I have no adequate words nor have I really dealt with my emotions. In truth I am still in shock.
Last year, on September 11th, 2002, I led a 26 hour memorial radio program which was disseminated on the Internet, to hold vigil for those who fell to the tide of violence the year before. It took 5 hours and 42 minutes to read the names of all the people who died in the Towers on the prior September 11th . The memorial was almost as tough as the sickening experience of watching innocent people jump from a building, condemned to ruin by the misguided hatred of a few.

I have no vengeance nor hate in my heart, I have instead only sorrow for all peoples in the world who must bare the brunt of indiscriminate violence. I believe that most people are good people and their race, religion or country of origin matters to me not a wit. I would like to see peace in the world; not an endless cycle of violence. I believe that the humanity of peace loving peoples all over the world necessitates the realization that the terrorists acts of 9/11 must be forever condemned. No redress of grievance, no positive social impact can ever be made by wanton and indiscriminate violence. None. Not ever.

The heart of my village is gone, but the hearts of the survivors remain intact, open, forward thinking and loving. Friends, we are all we’ve got. We, meaning each other as fellow humans. We may look different, worship differently and speak in different languages but we are essentially the same. We men and women of the world have but a brief tenure on this mortal coil, a few precious nanoseconds in the face of eternity to do something of value. Violence is not valuable. Hatred is not valuable. Destruction is not valuable.

On this day, I simply seek to remember my village, my city, my home as it was when it was intact … before it had it’s heart ripped out of its chest and vaporized. I see the faces of the dedicated men and women going to work in the World Trade Center with the goal of being productive. People of far flung nations coexisting and laboring side by side to benefit their families and mankind. I remember them and always will. I will not allow my sorrow to turn to blind hatred. Instead I will forever remember the ethic of my village; that to be productive is the highest good and that to do it with people of diverse backgrounds is a moment of transcendental celebration. I look forward with great hope, to the day that on that site, when people shall once more congregate from all nations with the goal of being productive. I remember the Twin Towers. I always will.