For me, the Twin Towers were the symbol of New York.
When I was growing up, the Towers’ then-recent construction was still a big deal, and in comparison, the Empire State Building seemed noteworthy only because of its role in the movie King Kong. Riding the Staten Island Ferry across New York Harbor to Manhattan—which I did many times—you pass the Statue of Liberty, which makes you feel proud to be American. But the Twin Towers, dominating the Lower Manhattan skyline, made me proud to be a New Yorker.
They were hardly darlings of the architectural world, but I’d take them any day over the Frank Gehry-designed sludge that’s inexplicably popular right now. The skyline isn’t the same without them.
I was one of a minority who hoped the Twin Towers would be rebuilt as they were. Though that didn’t happen, two reflection pools, constructed in the footprints of the original buildings, drew deserved praise as tasteful and appropriate memorials.
Then, a year ago, the new One World Trade, colloquially dubbed the “Freedom Tower,” was completed. Despite its size and majesty, it’s the product of years of redesign and compromise, and although impressive in its way, there’s a subdued quality about it that doesn’t reflect the bold personality of the city the way the Twin Towers did. Freedom Tower is more about risk avoidance than about pushing limit, and something’s been lost in that.
In the years after 9/11, my occasional trips into Manhattan never took me downtown. While many people made pilgrimages to visit Ground Zero, I avoided it like those places on old maps labeled “Here Be Dragons.” I didn’t want to see the remnants of what once was; I’d wait until the rebuilding was complete. That opportunity came recently, when I visited the 9/11 Memorial Museum during its pre-public opening dedication period, courtesy of a friend who served as a firefighter that day.
The Museum has caught flak for its admission price ($24) and its gift shop. With such sensitive subject matter, it’s probably impossible to satisfy everyone. But to me, the Museum—unlike the Freedom Tower—is perfect, a place to reflect upon that day and its impact. It sparks memories that some people may find difficult to revisit; for me, those included my desperate clinging to hope the first plane had hit the North Tower accidentally—a hope extinguished 17 minutes later, when the second plane struck the South Tower.
From 1996 to 1998, I worked in 7 World Trade Center, a smaller building near the Twin Towers. Workers in that building were succcessfully evacuated before it was destroyed on 9/11, so even if I was still employed there in 2001, it’s unlikely I would have met my end that day. But as someone who still has nightmares of being late to work for jobs I held in high school and college, there’s always been a bit of a hint of a twinge of guilt, as if I should have been there to witness the events of 9/11 firsthand. It’s haunting to watch the 9/11 Memorial Museum’s video biographies of three of my high school classmates who were killed that day, young men whose faces will be forever frozen in time while the rest of us grow old.
9/11 was, along with the Challenger disaster, the defining “Where were you?” moment for my generation. No one wishes for those moments, but when they come, it’s important to remember they mark not merely grim tragedy, but an opportunity to unite for a common cause. The very best of humanity—the bravery and dedication of first responders, the noble and poignant final moments of those doomed to die, the incredible story of the passengers of Flight 93—is on display at the 9/11 Memorial Museum. I urge everyone to visit.
Peter Dabbene was born and raised in Staten Island. He lives and writes in Hamilton. His website is peterdabbene.com. His science-fiction graphic novel ARK (illustrated by Ryan Bayliss) and his book Spamming the Spammers (with Dieter P. Bieny) are available at amazon.com.
