Today, I hung my flag, spent some time listening to the memorial services, observed the moments of silence, and went outside to hear the church bells. Yesterday morning I visited the new World Trade Center exhibit at the New York State museum. There are actually three separate exhibits that commemorate 9/11. There is a collection of pictures by Magnum Photographers that I had seen before, since they were published in a book last year. They are in color, but many appear black and white. Hanging on the wall is a large white sheet that has been fashioned into a flag, its red stripes and white stars on a blue background all created with paint hand prints, signatures and messages everywhere.

There is a permanent exhibit, cobbled together from a piece of the New York City floor space combined with a piece of what once was the gift shop. There are objects, pictures, videos, and the typical museum interpretation. The centerpiece is a badly damaged fire truck, and some tattered mementos of the lost police and firefighters. Although this area contains several large objects, in addition to Engine 6, including a piece of the steel exterior support structure, a sphere that once graced an antenna at the top of one tower, several segments of chain link fence covered with ribbons, flyers, flags and flowers, and the doors to a Salvation Army canteen for rescue workers, sprinkled around are ordinary symbols of office life that were sifted from the Freshkills Landfill: a mangled computer motherboard, half a handset of a telephone, a set of melted-together diskettes, a charred and twisted sign that directed employees to the exit. Striking is that most are remnants; shards of broken glass and small hunks of bent metal, mere fragments of a place that was gigantic.

Upstairs, there is a new gallery, complete with café, that has been built in an area of the building that not long ago was nearly empty. Each section showcases an exhibit that appears in the main part of the museum. The World Trade Center piece of this space contains an artistic image of the two towers, with each square representing a victim.

I can't say that the collective exhibits captured the magnitude of that day. Maybe nothing can. As I left the new gallery, I passed the teaser for a new exhibit on carnivals. It is a restored, and fully functional, carousel, manufactured in 1895, and retired in 1971. Taken by surprise, I paused to watch a handful of people ride the splendid wooden horses, "God Bless America" playing in tones reminiscent of a summer ice cream vendor's truck. I blinked back tears. Then again, I can't say that the collective exhibits failed to capture the magnitude of that day. The photographs, the objects, the interpretation. And innocense.

Last night, I voted in a primary, for the first time. I always vote in the general November election, and also in our local election (for our village, that's March), but only recently I discovered that I am a member of the Independence Party, rather than being my usual "NE." It was a confusing process, because two districts were assigned to my usual polling place, but there were separate records, and separate machines. Then, it seemed a multitude of parties were holding primaries, and a number of books had to be checked. The difficulty of spelling my name doesn't help. Whenever I start, "G-I-U...," the person automatically flips to "J." Correcting that, they invariably try to find "G-U..." Ever since Rudy Giuliani was mayor of New York City, I find that people can finally pronounce my name (though they change my final "o" to his "i"), but they still can't spell it. But I understand that Florida is brewing another nightmare, and so I refuse to fault the good folks in Castleton.

Speaking of the former mayor, I have done some thinking on the subject, and although a year ago I believed lower Manhattan should be rebuilt into offices, now I agree with him and the victims' families, in thinking that the entire 16 acre site that once was the World Trade Center should be a memorial park. To do otherwise would be like paving a cemetery, or allowing Disney to construct a theme park at Manassas. I often lament that what I perceived as minimal digs were done near the Hudson River in Albany when new buildings and parking garages went up, covering a wealth of Dutch artifacts. As Ma said recently, there will always be a need for office space, and the 16 acres won't make a bit of difference. So make something green there, and I don't mean money.

I will close this entry with some links and a photo; a year ago I wrote this story about Sirius, the only dog to die in the attacks. It is also posted here, at the Port Authority memorial site. Here is another lovely tribute to Sirius, and another. Finally, a puppy that will be a future guide dog has been named in his honor. The snapshot below was taken on my 36th birthday, September 18, 1997, when Bob, my sister, Daddy and I visited the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.