New York still stings, five years on

It's September 12. And in an internet age there can be no excuse for being anything less than up-to-the-second. But sometimes life gets in the way. Yesterday, I was asked to write a piece for the Australian Jewish News, about what it was like to be in NY, on the five-year anniversary of 9/11. This is what I wrote: SITTING at my desk this morning, a television in a nearby room blares names of 9/11 victims, being read at a ceremony, currently underway at Ground Zero. Family members take to the podium, to read from a list of victims, usually ending with the name of their loved one: "… the loving and loved, joyful Ruth Ellen Ketler." "… and my husband – you still live in my heart – firefighter Thomas J. McCann" "… and my fiancé, Dennis who shared laughter with every life he touched, especially mine." It's now past 11.30am; these names have been streaming out since early morning. Moments like these force me to understand the enormity of what September 11 means. I never knew a pre-9/11 New York. I first visited (and fell in love with) the city in February of 2002. Back on the evening of that fateful day, like many Australians, I had watched the events live on TV, incredulously. As newsreader Sandra Sully announced each horrible development – one plane crashing into a building, then another; one building collapsing, then the next – I was glued to the television. Prior to that, I had never heard of these "Twin Towers", which dominated the New York City skyline. On September 12, I kept hearing the popular refrain, "the world will never be the same". But as a Jew who was painfully affected by the horrible and ongoing terrorist attacks in Israel, all I could think was: "No, you are wrong. This is the same world that I have come to know, only now your eyes have been opened to it." By the time I arrived in New York, six months later, Australians had reached that point after a tragedy when it is safe to make jokes. In New York, one faux pas was all I needed in order to realize that this city was not yet at that point. And today, it is the same. The pain of 9/11 remains fresh and bitter, five years on. It affects how New Yorkers perceive themselves and relate to one another. There is a strong sense of community spirit here, which I believe was not as much the case pre-9/11. I remember my surprise the first time I walked the streets of this city. As a child, I identified New York as a perilously dangerous and unfriendly place. I couldn't imagine why anyone would ever visit here. True, in the past New York did indeed harbour a seething, dark underbelly. True too, zero tolerance policing changed much of this. But what I witnessed in 2002 was not about criminality. It was people helping people; people caring about people. Five years later, this has not changed. Thinking back to the coverage I saw in Australia that night, I remember being struck by one particular omission. We saw smoke and rubble and blackened skies, but where was the footage on the ground? What was happening at street level? I wanted to know. Now with the breadth of Five-Years-On coverage I have been privy to, I see those scenes. I see the people, strangers, gathered on street corners gazing upwards in horror. They cry openly. They scream as they witness desperate office workers, hurling themselves from the upper floors of the building to avoid being burnt alive. After living in this crowded city for 10 months, I think I am beginning to understand all this. When something of such a magnitude happens to some of "us", it happens to all of us. It cannot be avoided. It should not be. On the streets of New York today, some people dressed in black. Others gathered on street corners to remember, and sing in defiance of terrorism and adversity. As I write this, I feel incredibly sad. As Jews we know, each of these names I am hearing was once a universe. They had a world of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances. They had a corner store owner who knew them by name, or maybe just by face. For each of those people, I grieve today.