75 degrees. Cloudy. Walked around the perimeter of the barricades. The new tower: a shock to see it finally going up.
Along the esplanade by the Hudson, the steel from the old ones, forged intothe U.S.S. New York, a San Antonio class amphibious transport dock ship, inching south. Firefighting boats and police boats skitting by.
And a man in a yacht, watching the ceremony on TV:
Took me a while to find the usual suspects (been wondering where they’d gotten to) on the Broadway side: The stooped old man with big glasses and a sign with a picture of Bin Laden, black bullet-sized hole in one eye and the words Wanted, Dead and NOT Alive. Thank You Obama. The man in the white cowled robe with thin rainbow stripes and the requisite End is Near Repent sign. The Bible-handout squadrons. The conspiracy crowd (three times the size as five years ago), same banners, T-shirts, outraged faces.The most peaceful among the crowd: the photographers. Next: the police, everything well in hand. On speakers and a video screen: the bereaved, the names, so many names. All morning, and not even halfway done.