REMEMBERING 9/11
I was born in Newark and raised just across the Passaic River in Harrison, New Jersey. From our “tar beach” on the roof of the three-story tenement my father owned we could watch the planes on their final approach into Newark Airport, a hint of the World Trade Center glinting in the afternoon sun. It was a short walk to the PATH train and for a long time the fare was 30 cents and in less than a half hour I could be under the WTC.in Lower Manhattan.
I was born in Newark and raised just across the Passaic River in Harrison, New Jersey. From our “tar beach” on the roof of the three-story tenement my father owned we could watch the planes on their final approach into Newark Airport, a hint of the World Trade Center glinting in the afternoon sun. It was a short walk to the PATH train and for a long time the fare was 30 cents and in less than a half hour I could be under the WTC.in Lower Manhattan.
My father was born in
that tenement. He always lived in Harrison. He had a job at the RCA building
down the street, property first purchased by Thomas Edison. He had the job out
of high school and after being drafted and serving at the Normandy invasion,
came back to the same job. Through the GI Bill he earned a Bachelor of Science
degree in Philosophy at St. Peter’s College in Jersey City.
He never got a driver’s
license. Mass transit like buses and PATH and his feet got him where he needed
to go. And, he would drag us all over God’s creation. We once took a bus to
Newark Airport and talked our way onto a terminal and a plane and the pilot
graciously let us look at his cockpit. But, those were different times.
We once took a bus to
go to the Statue of Liberty. We only got as far as the pedestal. Mom was afraid
of the height.
We often went into Manhattan
via that PATH service. He brought us to the building site of the World Trade
Center and later when completed we rode the elevator to the top observation
platform. Mom didn’t go on that trip!
On other trips to Manhattan,
we walked to the Fulton Street Fish Market and Fraunces Tavern or took a free ride
on the Staten Island Ferry.
For a subway fare we
could ride the trains all day and sometimes we walked around Times Square. It
was a sketchy area back then. Sometimes he walked us around Greenwich Village
and we would cautiously eye the hippies gathered in Washington Square Park.
But my father
especially liked the financial district. He was so proud of the massive building. Coming up out of the PATH and you were
right there, the towers looming far above us. He got a kick out of the ball
sculpture between the two towers. He once had us all lie down to stare up at
these majestic towers and we could swear they were swaying as if alive. Some of
my fondest memories are of my father taking us to see them. 
My father passed away
in 1997. I’m so happy that he didn’t see the attack. It would have broken his
heart.
LIVE TRAVEL LOVE
© 2021 by Greg Dunaj
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