Norwich Guidon editor recounts seeing Trade Center destruction

Editor's Note: The following is a first-hand account of The Norwich Guidon News Editor Anthony Shiepko, who recently returned from New York City, where he observed the ruins of the World Trade Center.

By Anthony T. Shiepko Jr.
Norwich Guidon New Ediitor

Most people who know me don't know that there is a kinder, gentler side, the side who can't turn his back on a person in need of help, or see a turtle dragging himself sluggishly across a road without running out to help him so he won't be harmed. If people were to see me this past weekend, they would have thought I was a different person.

I returned home outside New York this weekend to go engagement ring shopping for my girlfriend. It should have been one of the happiest times of my life. But the feelings of joy and happiness quickly subsided and turned into feelings of helplessness and despair.

I returned home late Friday night, and I wasn't able to see much in the skyline. I awoke the next morning for my commute into the city to go shopping for her ring. As I went over the George Washington Bridge, I stared in awe at the drastically altered skyline. There was a big hole in it, and in that hole I felt a huge gap in my existence.

As a child I would frequent the city and walk the streets without a care in the world. I would go visit the local sights and lose myself in the majestic beauty of the surrounding buildings. Even after seeing the skyline, the reality of what had happened didn't set in.

After I finished shopping, I caught the subway heading towards what used to be the World Trade Center. The closest I was able to get was to the Fulton Street station. Upon ascending above ground from the subway, the first thing I noticed was the stench. The smell wasn't the typical fish smell of the Fulton Fish Market. The air was heavier, and as I approached ground zero, the air started to affect my eyes.

As I approached the site, I was overwhelmed with so many emotions. Some of the emotions I have never experienced in my life. Words can't describe how it felt. As I drew closer, I encountered a barricade of police and National Guardsmen. I saw a Verizon truck with a gentleman standing outside.

I approached and asked him if he knew my uncle Joe, who also works for Verizon. He told me Joe was in headquarters at ground zero and he would give him a call. My uncle came to where I was 15 minutes later, but it felt like a lifetime as I stood there still staring in disbelief.

There were Verizon trucks and blue tarps set up as barricades, so tourists and curious people couldn't look in.

My uncle later said that there has been a problem with people coming and taking pictures of the site. He also told me that if people take pictures at certain points, their camera is confiscated, because it is a crime scene. When he told me that, my heart sank even lower, but then I was quickly overwhelmed with rage.

Some of the thoughts running through my mind were: what is wrong with people? Why are they taking pictures? A lot of people are dead, and they're never going to go home from work; is this the only reason people came to the city?

After my uncle calmed me down, he took me to building five. Needless to say, building five didn't make me feel much better. All the windows of the building were blown out, and it was partially collapsed. The structure that used to see hundreds of people pass through it daily was now unfit for human occupancy.

I began to think that coming to the city was a bad idea. I decided that I'd had enough after hearing that the rescuers had just recovered two more bodies.

At that point, I had my uncle escort me out. On the way out, he showed me the buildings that had been power washed. They were still coated in dust and debris.

Looking into store windows, I could see the dust that still blanketed the aisles.

Plastered to the outside walls of buildings were hundreds of missing person posters.

Among those posters were pictures drawn by schoolchildren. Their pictures of rainbows and hearts beamed with a youthful optimism that I wished I could share. But I know the reality. Etched into the dust on the buildings were messages of hope that others had left.

As I embarked on my journey to my home, I couldn't help but glance in my rearview mirror for one last look at the skyline. I couldn't help but think that on Sept. 11 the world became a whole lot smaller and that many more people are going to die before this is over.

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