
Editor’s note: This piece was originally published on September 11, 2016.
My father recalls watching the North Tower burning from the 100th floor up and thinking to himself, “How would they put this out?”
I grew up in Rockland County, New York, and Dad used to work in the city, styling himself as an “architectural carpenter.” What that means is that he worked with his hands — and on his knees — installing cabinetry, wood flooring, and the heavy, polished oak doors that decorate the high-end offices of Manhattan with his union brothers in NYC District Council of Carpenters Union Local 157. It was hard work, and it took its toll on my father, who is now retired and living comfortably in Pennsylvania.
My father and I are
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