A friend’s post made me think about my own 9/11 moment…
One beautiful night in August 2001, I was standing on A friend’s Hoboken rooftop. I tried to take a photograph of the New York skyline punctuated by the twin towers. Annoyed that I had brought the wrong speed film for that kind of shot I remember putting my camera away, opening another beer and saying “All those buildings have been there a while, they’ll still be there next time I’m down here.”About two weeks later I was leaving Upstate NY for Boston to get the last of my stuff out of my apartment. The news said it was a plane crash, it looked like a house fire.
I was walking out the door when the second plane hit. I still got in the car.
40 minutes later, I heard the radio announce that state lines had been closed. I waited out that morning at a friend’s house, slowly shaking my head in astonishment.
Years later, I found the roll of film that I took that night. I processed the negatives and scanned the film into my archive, but I’ve never printed them. I look at those pictures as a symbol of hubris. I wasn’t there, I didn’t lose any loved ones that day. All my friends in New York that day are okay. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me when I look at my two bad photos of the manhattan skyline.