I
remember riding home on the train last night after reading New York
is being targeted for more attacks.
What
a surprise.
I--and
as I suspect other New Yorkers and lovers of freedom--feel this threat
most every day. Sure, there are days when it's not in the air, but not
often. Each landmark holds new beauty, precious sentimentality. Each
skyscraper a possession handed down from generation to generation like
jewelry.
I
stood and looked uptown and then downtown last night before heading home
to Brooklyn. I looked from the 12th floor
of the building I work
at on Sixth Avenue.
I looked to the west, toward the east, to the north
and finally to the south.
And
I let the buildings speak.
"We
will always be here," they said. "Even if they take one or two
or more of us out, we will always be here. Even if they take you out,
your loved ones, your enemies, the man at the fruit stand, the coffee
cart men, the babies, the mothers, the parks, the sick, the dying, we
will still be here."
"But
I want you here, always", I said. "Strong and as tall as you
are tonight."
"We
will be."
"But
I want you safe, Lady Liberty safe, not a finger laid on her."
"She
will be."
"I
want the Chrysler
Building
and the Empire
State
never touched!"
"They
won't be."
"Brooklyn
Bridge!"
"She
won't be."
"Can
you promise me?"
"Of
course. Just look at the darkness of this night. Look at it. See the
beauty swirling around us and cling to that. Fight for that. Be at peace
with that."
So
I went home. Rode the train home. And I looked at us, all of us, here,
for the duration. What a way to go.