In 2001 Hepcat’s sister and brother-in-law, who live in San Francisco, came east for Thanksgiving. After the feast, they wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to see Ground Zero, which was still burning. Up until that day, Smartmom had been emotionally unable to visit Ground Zero. But on that first Thanksgiving after the 11th, she felt ready to join her S.F. relatives on their journey across the river.
Smartmom was nervous about walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, as the bridge and other New York City landmarks had been cited many times as major Al Queda targets. Everytime she took a subway, rode across a bridge or was in a tunnel she felt imperiled. It was a strange time, New Yorkers felt under attack in a very personal way.
But Smartmom didn’t mention her own fears—not a word. She stiff-upper-lipped it and braved the walk like the ever-reliable New York booster and tour guide that she is. Her relatives seemed to have no fear of walking across the bridge. Smartmom, on the other hand, felt the familiar flutter of anxiety that had been a constant since the 11th. She remembers thinking: how ironic if we’re blown up on Thanksgiving night wanting to pay our respects to the dead at Ground Zero. Death was never far from her thoughts back then.