No longer Zero

A few years after the horrible massacre that took place at the famous landmark of New York City, called the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, on September 11, 1901, my sister-in-law Elsa, and her daughter Kara and I visited the site and were appalled as well as saddened to see it and recall the TV footages that the whole world saw as it happened. Indeed, we felt like weeping for the almost 4,000 innocent people who perished there.

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The place then was full of workmen and equipment, trying to clear away the rubble, all grimfaced and silently plodding away at their task. Just looking at the fragments of cement and steel, and imagining the bodies that had been buried under them was enough to make one weep. I had visited the site several times since then, and kept wondering why the rebuilding was taking so long. It was only last year, also in July, when my nephew, Gino Tadiar, who is married to my brother Pros’ daughter, Peachy, drove me around the site, that I finally saw something taking shape.

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So, as soon as we planned our trip to New York on July 9, Allan and Lourdes Gomez and I, requested Peachy to see how we could gain access to the 9/11 memento portions that were already completed. We were disappointed when she found out that one needs to make reservations and go to the place as scheduled. But there was serendipity at work, and on our last day there, Peachy told us that she was able to get three passes for us. Oh lucky day!

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And so last Friday, July 13, with passes in hand, we took off for what used to be Ground Zero, but now had something. Oh, there were thousands ahead of us, our time was 1:30 p.m., and the sun was blazing, but we were determined. As soon as the time neared, we joined the line marked by ropes that wounded about 30 times before one reaches the security people waiting who seemed stricter than airport people. Only one building is finished, having been inaugurated on the 10th anniversary of the tragedy.

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After being cleared by security several times, we finally got into the site, and got to the brink of the South Pool, a wide square body with rushing waters dropping into it like a waterfall. This and the North Pool are located on the sites where the twin towers used to stand. On the edge of the pools are etched the names of the identified 2,977 people killed during the attack. I noticed a young girl positioning herself so she could take a photo of the name Alfred Miller on the brass edge. I asked her if she knew the guy, she said no, but somebody asked her to do it as a favor. Many others were standing there, looking at a name, or going around looking for a particular one. The sight of them brought back the horrors of that day. But it was consoling to see that one tower was already standing, and the ground was no longer zero.

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One of the places I never fail to visit whenever I am in New York is the St. Patrick’s Cathedral, a landmark of what is probably the most popular and most modern and attractive cities of the United States. However, it looked as if there would be no opportunity for me to do so, since it was rather far from Brooklyn, where I am staying, and my travel companions, Allan and Lourdes Gomez, had gone on to Washington and Airlington. But my prayers were answered magically. Suddenly, my niece, Peachy announced that she had to go to her office at CitiBank N.Y., where she is a vice president, and could drop me off at St. Patrick’s! Furthermore, Allan and Lourdes, coming back to N.Y., could meet me at the corner of 5th Avenue and 51st Street, and off I went, mumbling my thanks for the gift.

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New York City is as exciting as ever, especially if you have the energy to walk and walk and walk. That we did after the much awaited visit to the St. Patrick’s Cathedral, still as magnificent as ever, but this time shrouded with scaffoldings because of repairs being made on some cracks reportedly caused by an earthquake. Nevertheless, my companions and I were as entranced as ever by the beautiful works of art on the statues and structure of the cathedral, where we offered our mass for the birthday of brother Bing on the next day.

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As we sat in the pew waiting for mass to begin, I tried to picture how Imelda Marcos had looked when she reportedly prayed there and walked on her knees to the altar, while being tried by a New York Court, shortly after EDSA. But, see, she was acquitted on all those charges later. St. Patrick must have appreciated her “sacrifice”, and helped her. Will he help Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, if she also went there?*

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