When I got ready to leave for an easy 6 miles this morning the readers had reached the letter B. I had listened to short speeches and poems, and to the name Peter C. Alderman, whose courageous parents and sister I met years ago for a story. I had paused what I was doing when the church bells sounded at 8:46 AM and 9:03 AM.
Then I ran in Riverside Park. Walkers and runners seemed both sadder and friendlier than usual. The mood in the park was subdued. Firemen in uniform strolled around. As I picked up bagels a woman sat and cried, and another lady sat with her and just put a hand on her arm. A smiling toddler told her: ‘It’s OK’.
After I returned home the reading was ongoing I heard the name Ingeborg Lariby, the only Dutch victim. I ate, spoke with a friend on the phone, showered, got dressed, and read the newspaper. Now, more than two hours after they began, the reading of the names –so many names from all corners of the world– has still not ended.
September 11 is, again, a perfectly clear, sunny morning in New York.