10/2/01 -- A caravan of garbage trucks, under police escort, moves uptown like a funeral.

10/5/01 -- "We've been at war for ten years," said Debbie's uncle. "Only we didn't know it."

10/8/01 -- I attend a memorial service at St. Bart's for Richard Penny and Edwin Zambrana, Jr. They were Project Renewal employees who worked at the World Trade Center. We had a small business there, recycling paper in the towers. I helped get this contract, but I didn't know either of the men. It was an odd memorial service -- very few people who actually knew them spoke. Their supervisor was too broken up to speak. I was told that he kept searching for the missing that day until the police made him leave. I talked with some of their coworkers afterward. Edwin loved Michael Jordan, and was excited to see him play again. Edwin's father, who also worked at the WTC, had pulled some strings to get him the job. His father made it out; Edwin didn't. Richard Penny was sort of a quiet guy, but he loved the movies. His coworker said that he would spend all of his time at the movies -- foreign films, first-run films, everything -- and would talk all about what was good and what wasn't. I wonder about Richard. A guy who was valedictorian of his class, who struggled with addiction, who spent a decade on the streets, who finally had a home and a steady job, who loved the movies. A guy who is dead for no reason at all.

Here's what the Times wrote:

RICHARD A. PENNY Love of Work and Learning

Even during the 10 years he was homeless, Richard A. Penny loved to work. Even when he slept on a Harlem shelter cot, or dozed upright near Grand Central Terminal, he still rose to polish the brass at St. James' Church, scrub floors or sweep city streets. Three years ago, he found a steady job in the World Trade Center recycling program, now run by Project Renewal, and rented a room in Brooklyn.

"He totally went against all the stereotypes of homeless folks," said Jon Bunge, a caseworker with Project Hope, another of the social service agencies that found work for the "soft-spoken, incredibly thorough" man who listed his best quality as his love of learning.

Mr. Penny, who was 53, told his story as a fall from grace. An only child, he was the 1966 valedictorian of Metropolitan High School. He married young, had a son and worked as a communications craftsman for AT&T for seven years.

Then heroin and a 1975 robbery conviction swept it all away. After 14 months in prison, Mr. Penny retreated to his parents' Brooklyn brownstone. But they died, he was evicted and eventually he lost his metalworking job.

The hard climb from homelessness led to the upper floors of the twin towers, where he was collecting paper on Sept. 11. His memorial service drew more than 100 people. "We loved him," Mr. Bunge said.

10/15/01 -- And a happy ending, to boot: Project Renewal's organic farm is located at Camp LaGuardia, a former-prison-turned-NYC-homeless-shelter up in Chester, NY. When we moved in ten years ago, we inherited 1,500 pristine pairs of boots originally intended for the Marines fighting the Korean War. My coworker, Ruth, has been trying to get them out of storage for years. Sell them, ebay them, whatever. She even gave me a pair. (Including the original directions for "Boots, Combat, Rubber, Insulated, For Use in Snow, Slush, Mud and Water.") They're quite comfy. Today she told me what finally became of them: right after the bombing she heard that rescue workers needed boots. So if you see any rescue workers with 50-year old boots on, you know to thank Ruth.

10/17/01 -- In the lobby of BAM's Harvey Theater, I run into Camilla, a family friend. She and her friend have been up all night, volunteering at Ground Zero, working in the kitchen. She tells me about the awful faces of the workers, who are digging through the rubble six or seven days a week.

10/23/01 -- I realize that I no longer ignore the sounds of sirens.

10/24/01 -- If you haven't been to the Here Is New York show (at 116 Prince Street), go. They have collected photographs from amateurs and professionals, relating to 9/11, and they are displaying them, and you can submit your own pictures and they'll take them, and you can buy copies and the proceeds go to the Children's Aid Society WTC Relief Fund. It's there until 11/4 at least; I suggest you get there before 12:30 (they open at 11) if you want to avoid waiting in line. You can see (and buy) some of the pictures online at www.hereisnewyork.org, but there's only a fraction of them there. So go.

It's strange -- I thought that I couldn't look at any more pictures. And then something like this tears open my eyes and my heart again.

In the midst of the photos is a quote from E.B. White's book Here Is New York, from 1949:

"The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumple the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York, in the sound of jets overhead, in the black headline of the latest edition."

M E-L posted this on October 25, 2001
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It is also indexed with the following tags: 9/11 | New York City |