Remembering 9-11

The picture is from Boston Globe, by way of Paul Kedrosky.

The red dot is where I was living, from where my wife was running with our baby in stroller when the first tower collapsed.

It's hard to look at it. But it reminds me that as bad as Bush has been, I don't regret pulling for him over those other C-average Yalies.

Last year's observance here.

UPDATE: James Lileks' 2003 piece, written as though he lives across the street from me (I actually live even closer to Ground Zero now):

The world will not end. It will roll around in its orbit until Sol expires of famine or indigestion. In the end we’re all ash anyway - but even as ash, we matter. The picture at the top of this page is a sliver taken from a 9/11 camera feed. It’s the cloud that rolled through lower Manhatttan when the towers fell. Paper, steel, furniture, plastic, people. The man who took the picture inhaled the dust of the dead. Somewhere lodged in the lung of a New Yorker is an atom that once belonged to a man who went to work two years ago and never came back. His widow dreads today, because people will be coming and calling, and she’ll have to insist that she’s okay. It's hard but last year was harder. The kids will be sad and distant, but they take their cues from her, and they sense that it's hard - but that last year was harder. But what really kills her, really really kills her, is knowing that the youngest one doesn’t remember daddy at all anymore. And she's the one who has his eyes.

Two years in; the rest of our lives to go.