We were busily cleaning out our storage unit, somewhat convinced that we would never want the headaches and anchor of another stick home. Hidden among all our stuff was a small box Mrs. Phred's sister gave us to store in early 2005. This presented a problem, we couldn't just toss it. So I tventoried the contents and sent SIL a list of what the box contained.
The most interesting things in the box were several hundred 9/11 pictures. My SIL and BIL had a large "loft" on the seventh floor of a building immediately across from the south side of the South Tower. They moved in in the early 1970s and lived though the noise and bustle of the construction of the Towers. We visited them often for nearly 30 years. The workers in the tower would sometimes wave when Mrs. Phred and her sister wore pretty nightgowns in the morning.
Many of the pictures appear to have been taken for insurance purposes. The FBI took over the apartment because it was on the same level as the top of the rubble of the tower. They were blocked in their attempts to do anything with the "loft" because of government concerns about the toxicity of the rubble and dust that filled the place when all the huge old double hung windows blew out.
The kitchen was back away from the street. Here you can see what appears to be a "UPS" receipt that blew in on an ill wind from the tower.
After trying to cope with the disaster for about a year, they made a bold decision and bought an RV and began to tour America. After a few years of that, they moved to Venice for two years and learned Italian. Now they're back on the road.
SIL has given me permission to scan and use a few of her 9/11 pictures. I'm not sure I blame her for putting these away in a box. It must have been immensely trying and sad to see everything destroyed.
The subway terminated under the World Trade Center, so you could look out the windows and see thousands streaming to work at Wall Street, a block further South and East. That day many workers and residents were directed over the Brooklyn Bridge to find their ways home.
Trying to sleep in the apartment took some getting used to inhuman screams, sirens and car alarms. I suspect a real New Yorker would have the same problem with the crickets and frogs that sing at night on the Withlacootchee River.
Going up to the top of the Tower always made me uneasy. It wasn't a premonition. I'm just afraid of heights and distrustful of engineers.
This appears to be a message left in dust on the front door of the loft.
Looking down from the west side of the loft.
Are those refrigerator pictures?
I really envied BIL's Wurlitzer juke box. It was a beauty, filled with 45 RPM classics. What a drag.