Welcome back: I kept telling myself, It's just a train ride.
The last time I rode these tracks, as many of you know, was on the last PATH train into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Today, I returned. And I didn't know how I'd react. I often feel as I live with a webcam pointed at my psyche, always watching, always recording the reaction to anything 9/11: today sunken, tomorrow angry, the next day tired, the next day numb, someday hopeful. So what will it be today?
Well, the first, best indication of my own reaction came when the train pulled into Jersey City and the conductor droned, "World Trade Center." And I smiled. Relief. Even a touch of victory.
The midmorning train wasn't crowded. One grizzly guy sat by the front window; a tourist/pilgrim with camera sat a few feet away. I kept my camera in my pocket; I dislike turning tragedy into tourism.
As we went under the river, a guy in a PATH reconstruction jacket came up to the front window to look. So did the rest of us. The tunnel -- where rowboats navigated after the attacks -- looked new and clean. And up ahead, we saw daylight. That, alone was shocking; this station always seemed as if it were a mile underground. Now, of course, there is nothing above.
The train halted just at the entrance, as if to let us get ready. The grizzly guy muttered, "Graveyard." The rest stared ahead. I felt a clutch coming but then stopped.
It's just a train ride.
There was no more enormity to it. I've felt the enormity again and again; have not stopped feeling it. We came out into the Trade Center site, with the floors chewed off by the devil himself, the scarred walls, the ramps, the yellow construction equipment. I've seen it from above. Now I see it from below. Same enormity.

The train takes a big loop around the site and then pulls into the station.
It's odd that the authorities try to subtly stop us from looking even as millions are drawn to the site just to look. The new bridge over West Street, which also opened today, is designed to block the view. The grate and green canvas surrounding the site all but block it. In the new PATH station, there are huge, transluscent fabric walls with quotes about New York that don't quite block the view but do block cameras. We can glance. We can't stare.
"Something's always happening here," said Myrna Loy. "If you're bored in New York, it's your own fault." It borders on bad taste to stare through that quote at the destruction and rebuilding. But, hey, this is New York; we love the edge.
So people stood and stared, of course. On the platform -- pure, clean concrete -- some stood. Up a level, more stared.

And then came the escalators. Those were the most striking feature of the original station: So many stairs going so high, always moving, forever full. They symbolized New York business and ambition to me. And on
That Morning, it was coming up those stairs and hearing silence -- a sound never heard in this place -- that made me realize something was wrong, very wrong.
Now there are fewer stairs. But they are back and they lead up to another level and then stairs take you up onto Church Street, right where the Borders Books used to be. When I was last here, I ran across that street as debris fell and a cop shouted for our lives, ordering us to run.
Now, I come up on the street and it's crowded. Some are still staring. Some are rushing; real jobs, real lives. Some take pictures in front of the World Trade Center PATH signs (suitable for framing?).
The mood there seems to match my own: relieved, glad, a little triumphant.
The bustle's back.
Harry's birthday
: I don't usually mark others' blog birthdays (I don't even mark my own). But when Harry says nice things about you, well, flattery will get you a link. I often agree with Harry; I often disagree; I always enjoy the conversation and it has been a nicer nabe since he moved in.
Georgia on his mind
: Pedram wonders whether the velvet revolution in Georgia provides an example for Iran. He fears religions would get in the way.
So an ayatollah, an imam, and a rabbi walk into a bar cafe...
: Here's a good story promoting the talents of Arab-American comics -- better yet, it comes from Steven I. Weiss in Jewsweek: "If you want to turn an average Arab-American into a comedian, give one a plane ticket and then wait to see what happens."
Michael Jackson blogs
: ... well, not quite. But like everyone else today, he comes to the web to tell his story.
For the dead
: Ays tells us that obituaries for those Saddam executed were prohibited. Now that he is gone, the dead get their day.
Feeling left behind?
: Rafat Ali is posting to PaidContent.org from a small town in India, where he gets broad Internet access thanks to his 3G phone (giving him faster access than I get off my Sprint Treo). If he were here, he'd be sniffing out the nearest Starbucks. Good for India. Bad for us.
Stop the presses: NY Times editor reads blogs
: NY Times Executive Editor Bill Keller tells Howard Kurtz that, yes, he reads weblogs:
One striking thing about Keller's style is that he doesn't dismiss criticism of the paper out of hand. "I look at the blogs. . . . Sometimes I read something on a blog that makes me feel we screwed up. A lot of times I read things that strike me as ill-tempered and ill-informed."
Perhaps the best example of Keller's open-mindedness toward outside critics is his choice for the Times's first public editor. He picked former Life managing editor Daniel Okrent, whom he had never met, rather than a Times veteran.
"Maybe we were a little too closed off to how the world sees us. . . . The more I interviewed people, the more I realized it would be more interesting to listen to someone who hadn't grown up in our culture," Keller says. Over time, he admits, "I may want to eat those words, or the staff may want to shove them down my throat."
We'll see that excerpt all over weblogs today. But there shouldn't be anything surprising about this. A good reporter or editor should want to know what's happening out there and should want to find new sources of information and read criticism.
The big news would be if he did
not read blogs.
Now what would be more impressive is if you saw Keller et al leaving a comment or two on weblogs to enter into a dialogue. Because -- repeat after me -- news is a conversation.
Tough times
: Blogger Gary Farber is living Murphy's Law right now. Go here to give him a helping hand. [Note: The direct link is hosed so go to the top and scroll down.]
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