On my way into school, a red light stops me at the intersection where the Manchester Bridge disgorges cars into downtown. To my left across the broad expanse of asphalt, I see the Federal Reserve Building, bright in the morning sun. It's by Ishizaki, the same architect who designed the World Trade Center towers, and looks like a short version thereof. Today, people are rappelling down the east side, kicking out and swinging down to, I don't know, inspect the façe maybe. On September 11 I was fortunate enough not to see images of the people jumping and so this morning these people with their climbing gear glittering in the sun do not bring tears to my eyes. But still, I am chilled.
My summer internship starts tomorrow. My professor, who's also involved in the project on which I'll be working this summer, has gotten behind on his part of it and he's arranged to have me put on the payroll now to start working now to help him catch up. ("Don't let it interfere with your schoolwork" he says. "Keep your grades up." I nod, but think, God, please, let me do anything other than what I'm doing now.) In addition to the much-needed money, I'll acquire some of the knowledge I'll need down at the research facility, where my professor won't be around to ask.
I get home from school at seven o'clock and the block is completely surrounded by police cars and yellow tape.
POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS
The car of one of my neighbors is riddled with bullet holes. At five-thirty some guys, associated with the house around the corner on 29th where they fix cars, had a shootout, running through the alley and back around down my block. Somebody got shot. It's hours later and the police are still out there, waiting for Forensics to come pick up shell casings and look at the bullet holes. The lights in my sitting room are bright enough to wash out the flashing blue lights, but I am aware of their presence. I live in the 'hood. I love my neighborhood, but I forget sometimes about its many facets.
364 words | April 27, 2004 07:38 PM | Real true story