Life after 9-11

After Sept. 11, a former Topekan who now lives near New York realizes that change is something all of us must do

LINDA LAIRD/The Capital-Journal

Brian Laird and his fiancee, Effie Golan, often walk along the river in Hoboken, N.J., where the ferries come in from New York's altered skyline.

BRIAN LAIRD/The Capital-Journal

Onlookers, feeling powerless and unable to help, continued to watch from across the river as the second tower fell.

By Brian Laird

Special to The Capital-Journal

To write about the changes in the world, specifically my world, since Sept. 11, I must say it's difficult to say anything so special as to catch anyone's eye.

After all, we as a society have grown thirsty for news containing freak accidents, the atrocities of war and random acts of violence. My outlook is a much more positive one.

I never really stopped to think directly about what has changed, although I know some things have. Some changes are very obvious, mostly physical or superficial.

Ferries get you to lower Manhattan now instead of trains, the World Trade Center towers are no longer in my view on my walk to work and I hear someone mention 9-11 at least once every day.

You can't walk anywhere without seeing a police officer now. They camp out at bridges, tunnels and train stations, and can be seen joking around with utility workers anywhere that a manhole cover is lifted.

No doubt about the new group of baby boomers --- pregnant women are everywhere now instead of the occasional sighting, and baby strollers are almost rivaling taxi cabs in their frequency.

In the months following Sept. 11, I realized just how special and important my girlfriend, Effie, was to me. I asked her to marry me.

We've been nothing but happy ever since. I suppose like those who chose to have children, I decided there is never going to be a better time. I knew it was going to happen someday, so why not now?

Some other things have changed, too. Habits I've developed that I may not have noticed without thinking about them. I sit facing the rear of the train now, rarely facing forward. I don't much like seeing the New York skyline anymore on the way to work. I've stopped carrying my camera everywhere I go, I suppose because if I don't have it, there won't be anything so terrifying to record.

It was about 20 seconds after the first plane hit when I snapped my first pictures, and I had my first set of pictures up on my Web site in about 20 minutes.

I wasn't able to use the phone for most of the day that day, but luckily the Internet kept on humming. I sent the link to the pictures on my Web site to about 10 to 15 people via e-mail, and within an hour I had more people slamming my site than I knew how to handle or the server could manage.

We hastily set up a number of mirror sites. Then things were back to a manageable amount of traffic. I've had a few friends who have linked into my site recently as well, and we have noticed traffic getting a little steadier as the anniversary date drew closer.

I briefly thought about heading back to Kansas after the attacks, not knowing what would happen next. I'm not a Knickerbocker but a Jayhawker. Yet during this last year and the events I saw, the strength of the people and the rebuilding I've witnessed have forever made me feel like a New Yorker. I'm here to stay.

In March, I was able to make a trip to Israel to meet Effie's family and was able to see the huge difference in worlds we live in. Being searched in the airport for weapons was one understandable thing, but being searched each time I entered a grocery store, a bar, a restaurant was another. It was a look at the way the entire world may have to react to the horrible actions of a few that shattered more than a few buildings, but also our trust for other human beings.

I think the East Coast residents seem to be more cognizant of their surroundings than they were before Sept. 11.

A fatal day has been forever carved into our hearts as a permanent memory of loss and has unveiled many to a new reality that has broadened narrow-minded approaches to life.

At times of prosperity, matters of war, hate and violence are separated from our conscious lives. No one wants to deal with issues that are far from the heart; matters that seemingly will not become a part of our nation's reality.

Sept. 11 has changed that line of thinking for many of us; I know it did for me.

I hope we can all remember what we were doing when we heard of the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001.

I was in an unusual position, one of the few people in the world who actually watched the planes hitting towers on more than a television. Sometimes I wish I hadn't witnessed these events with my eyes. I didn't feel any bigger because I saw things unfold in broad daylight; I felt small because I couldn't get across the river to help.

My biggest fear is no longer the terrorism itself or those who perpetrate it, but that through all of the obvious changes we will lose sight of those things that we need to do for each other, and that perhaps things will go back to a normalcy that was fraught with pettiness and prejudice.

I know these things have been said before, but it makes me feel much better to say them myself.

For all of you who lost a loved one or a friend in the attacks of Sept. 11, my heart goes out to you; I hope we have done everything we could to console you.

For those of you who dropped everything in your lives to help volunteer or to donate money, my hands applaud you; we hope you found your work more enjoyable than any other you've experienced.

For those of you who kept working when parts of the world were falling apart, I truly commend you. It has been difficult for all of us to concentrate.

For those who have not been changed by the events of Sept. 11 or those who cannot see a change: Please do what you can to realize our world and our cultures are fragile. We have all to lose by not changing at all.

Brian Laird, a native Topekan and son of Topeka Capital-Journal reporter Linda Laird, is senior application developer for Datepipe, Hoboken, N.J. He can be reached at [email protected] or by visiting his Web site www.brianlaird.com.

Copyright 2002
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