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Day out of Days

New York, January 26, 2002

As we pass through NY and have some day before our flight through to LA, my wife says "let's go by Ground Zero".

We get a cab and find ourselves on the edge of this mass grave where thousands of nameless people passed away.

Cops keeping tourists away. One of them comes up to us while we're getting out of the car. He says that nobody told him I was coming. Do we want him to take us around.

We wander the premises. Watch the windowless buildings which have black tarp on their side. Like one big concrete tombstone. My wife says she'd like to buy a NY policecap. He takes us to the station and many of the guys turn up for pics and autographs.

It is very clear they appreciate our occasional visit paying our respect to that horrible event.

We are very quiet driving back. It's a small blessing to me that something small like this can mean that much. The flight we are on next is the same flight as the one that hit the towers. It feels strange. Security is enormous.

It's weird that life can go on sometimes.


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