Of the things that I’ve seen through television there is little doubt in my mind that the 2001 attack on New York was the most horrifying. Other disasters, natural or mad made, invite a response however inadequate, some act: a donation, a signature a demonstration. Something, however futile, to assuage personal guilt, draw attention to the issue, hopefully make a small difference or simply to say something is wrong. Many of the 150,000 plus deaths that occur on this planet every day(1) are, in theory, preventable with social action or political will. But there on the screen on a warm September day were thousands of people being vaporised before our eyes. As we watched the second plane hit the South Tower we knew we were watching people being vaporised before our eyes and there was no preventing it. I remember thinking of my late father who was born in one world war, lived through another and feared a third and who had died as the 20^th Century ended. I could be glad at least he didn’t have to see this. I finished work early and went home to hug my kids.

Since then I have visited Ground Zero four times. I do so each time I visit New York I find it an intense and moving experience that must be repeated each time. I look up at the void as everyone has and does and that everyone who now looks at the memorial will also do. I look up to the place I once sat in the South Tower staring at the city below and I think of what it must have been like for those with no hope of escape until something in my head switches off the movie.

But Ground Zero is also an experience that inspires, in particular the memorials, permanent and transitory at the tiny Ladder 10 Fire House at Liberty and Greenwich, directly opposite the site of the South Tower. Five Ladder 10 firefighters died that day. They have a different commemoration each year. It is their story and those of many others show that there is something good to take even from the worst of days.

On my last visit to Ground Zero my daughter was with me. As well as Ladder 10, she found the tributes in St Paul’s Church, the tiny moving and wanted to quiet spend time there. She she she couldn’t get her head round it. I told her not to worry, nobody else can either. Today she said, “Dad, do you mind giving me a history lesson” and asked me to explain the background to that event that changed her world, what went before and what followed. I did my best and she stayed with my 45 minute explanation. All I can say is she must really have wanted to know but I’m glad she did.

If and when I again visit New York I will go back to Ground Zero and the times after that too until there is no other time. However we do it, remembering matters.