NEW YORK: Sixteen acres (6.4 hectares). Seven buildings. Tens of thousands of people. Two looming towers. A doomed Zip Code — 10048. This tour of ground zero included plenty of statistics.
Then, it was Marianne Barry’s turn to make it all real. So she held up her husband’s picture and began: Maurice Barry was a Port Authority police officer. His wife and children waited for him to come home September 11, 2001, but he didn’t. They got his gun, but no remains to bury.
“This is like a cemetery for us,” she said, glancing at the gaping hole behind her.
A visit to ground zero today requires an imagination. After all, what was once there no longer is. And what’s supposed to replace it won’t be there for years. Instead, even as the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks arrives, there is a fence around a construction site, with a few sombre signs describing the attacks and listing those who perished.
It’s not much, but the site nonetheless attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors a year, by conservative estimates.
About a year ago, a group of people with close connections to the September 11 attacks began offering tours through an organisation called the Tribute WTC Visitors Centre. The centre’s guides include survivors, people who lost loved ones, emergency workers and other volunteers.
“The people who were coming here not only want information about what happened but they want to pay their respects to somebody,” said Lynn Tierney, president of the centre, adding later, “It’s terribly intense interaction.”
Each tour usually includes two guides, or ‘docents’. The visitors walk along the fence around the site — they are not allowed inside the fenced off area — and into nearby buildings, including the World Financial Centre, to get optimal views. The guides are equipped with pictures of the towers and historical information about the site.
They spend a lot of time helping tourists get a sense of place prior to the attacks, something television and photographs can’t fully convey.
Paige Pantezzi, who fled one of the burning buildings that day, tells people the Twin Towers served as a navigational system for New Yorkers. “They were our compass,” said Pantezzi, 34. “They were like our sun and our moon.”
Mickey Kross, a lieutenant who recently retired from the fire department, was trapped under the rubble for a few hours. To those who ask him how it felt, many of whom are shy or nervous about approaching, he says, “Creepy!”
Some visitors don’t ask questions at all, offering tears and hugs instead.—AP
