I didn’t lose any family and friends in New York that day. However, I did get chills when as I walked through the Museum. I remember the events of that day and the aftermath pretty clearly, since I was in my twenties when it happened and I was watching the live coverage on the news when the second plane hit. It was a scary and confusing time for all of us in the PNW (especially in my community which has a close relationship to the Naval Air Station), but now having experienced this city and the people who live here in a more intimate way, really put things into a a new context for me. As I viewed the wreckage of the Ladder 3 fire unit, I caught this story from the docent:
“A woman in her 50’s was in bad health and had a bad knee and ankle from a car accident was trapped in the upper floors of the first tower. When the firemen came to help her evacuate, she went as far and stopped from exhaustion. She said,’I can’t go any further. Go without me.’ Yet they refused. ‘We’re not going without you,’ they insisted. And so they stayed. Then they heard the floors above them crashing into each other as the building came collapsing down on itself. They were sure they were all dead. Yet they stayed. Finally the floor above them fell, and miraculously they were all left standing. Somehow the spot where they stood was in a pocket that remained in tact. They all survived. All because she could not take one more step.”
The woman lived another few years before a fatal heart attack. That fire unit had an an angel embroidered into her coffin to honor her for protecting them on that day.
Wow. Only one of many such stories. As frightening and terrible the events of that day were, these stories are testimony to the endurance, strength and compassion of the human condition.
How others made it—
The Vessey Stairs, now an artifact and monument of survival:
I’m not interested in how death and destruction occurs. It is inevitable. I am interested in how we survive, in the most terrible times. How do we go on? We just will. We will find a route, and run there, as fast as we can, save as many as we can, remember and honor as many as we can.
–Melissa Hand.
Presenting on Louise Bourgeois’, Spider, 1997 was an emotional moment for me and others. Sharing the intensity that she had for/in her work was difficult when you relate to her emotions. It was particularly emotional for me after the presentation seeing others react to the piece. I was the little girl on the playground who would cry when others got hurt. The Spider is such an evocative sculpture instillation that when others reacted to their feelings, I was overwhelmed. I had to get out of there. I admire those who could have an emotional release when viewing an art piece. I myself ran from my emotions. I felt something but couldn’t confront it. This trip had been baby steps for me in allowing myself to have these emotional releases in public. Eventually I hope/know I will see a work of art that I will either 1. Feel comfortable crying in public or 2. Will be overcome and won’t be able to help but cry in public.
