I can appreciate everyone taking it upon themselves to bestow balmy platitudes of "Never Forget" on the anniversary of 9/11. I even understand the ubiquitous sticker on many a truck window telling me to do the same. I however, do not need to be reminded of this. Not now. Not ever.
There are those, like me, who were living in New York city on the day of September 11th, 2001, who would really like to forget, but are completely unable to.
I would like to forget seeing the second jet smash into tower 2 on TV as I got ready for work that morning listening to Howard Stern.
I would like to forget seeing the desperate souls in both those buildings hanging out windows trying to save themselves from immolation - many jumping from 50 plus stories to their deaths.
I would like to forget hearing the loud thuds of bodies hitting lobby roofs and cars as news crews broadcasted live from the scene.
I would like to forget the snow-like flutter of millions of sheets of paper as it belched from the gaping holes in the towers.
I would like to forget seeing the huge black plumes of smoke emanating from lower Manhattan as I watched fighter jets fly by on maneuvers from my roof top.
I would like to forget seeing all of lower Manhattan covered in thick clouds of dust and pulverized computer consoles as the buildings collapsed.
I would like to forget the horrible rancid smell of electric, burnt plastic, and barbecue that hung in the air for days after as the ruins of the towers smoldered.
I would like to forget watching outside my window as thousands of people walked uptown in a zombie-like daze making their way uptown as they dealt with the city's shut down transportation system.
I would like to forget seeing the blocks-long line of people queued up for days across the street at the Lexington Avenue Armory futilely registering their missing loved ones.
I would like to forget the thousands of "missing" signs that papered the walls and windows all over my neighborhood for weeks, until finally rains came and washed away the thin hopes of all who lost loved ones into the gutters.
I would like to forget thinking of and worrying about my friend Sam, his wife, son, and newborn daughter who lived in an apartment next to the towers.
I would like to forget his heart wrenching tale as he made his way downtown desperately trying to see if his family was safe.
I would like to forget how he told of a large crowd of people that screamed in fear that the dust from the tower collapse was poison gas from an enemy attack as they jumped into the river to save themselves.
I would like to forget that every time he mentions these stories, to this day, he cries.
I would like to forget.
I would like to forget all these things, but the truth is, I never will.
