Our second and final train took us under the city. It was then that my thoughts and feelings transported me to another time when I was under that other city and on my way to another set of Twin Towers. It was 9-11 and I was making my way from Jackson Heights, Queens, to Rockefeller Center where I worked for a law firm as a paralegal. It was a large law firm that held 13 floors of Rockefeller Center. I worked in an area of the building that had a direct view of both Towers. Daily I took in the view with a sense of awe, inspiration and pure delight. On this day -- 9-11 -- I was struck with horror and disbelief like all New Yorkers as I looked out upon the burning towers upon my arrival to work around 9:30am.
Now -- here in Kuala Lumpur -- I was under the city approaching the Twin Towers. Different feelings came to the surface. One feeling in particular I had to wilfully dismiss. It was, "How could they do that to us? Did they cry for us when it happened?" I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I immediately divorced the first "they" from the second "they." The first "they" were the extremists. The second "they" were the general populace presently all around me in their Muslim garb. One gentleman sitting there on the train caught my eyes. As he looked at me, I smiled at him -- it is a regular practice of mine to smile at strangers who may glance my way. He smiled back and it helped me bring things into perspective.
We left the train at our Twin Tower station and ascended the stairs. As we came to the huge mull area that is situated under the Twin Towers, we had our first glimpse towards the light of day. It was pouring. That small window of opportunity to stand at the base of the Towers had closed on us. Like the tourist I was, I was heartbroken. Our guide and friend turned to us and suggested we go to the food court and try some Malaysian deserts while we wait. As we made our way to the fourth or fifth floor -- the mull opening up before us like the modern cathedral it was -- I felt comforted by the rain, not cheated of an opportunity. The rain was fitting. I felt it was just as it should be. My partner, Jose, and our Malaysian friend, kept hounding me to keep up with them. But I was reflective. It slowed my pace some.
At the food court, we sat right up against huge windows. In fact, the whole wall was a window. I could see a large part of the Kuala Lumpur skyline. And it was all grey. Streaking grey with the descending rain. Jose and our friend talked and talked as I observed the skies. The heavens were crying for the 9-11 Twin Towers of NYC. The heavens understood my feelings here. My first trip to the Twin Towers since 2001, and the heavens understood. I was comforted by the rain. Jose, my life partner of 12 years who knows me well, could see I was in a different space. He put his arm around me. "It is fitting, you know, that it is raining," I told him. I held back the turns.
A week and two days later, we were at the foot of Penang Hill on Penang Island, Malaysia, waiting to take the incline to the top of the mountain. A lady from Kuala Lumpur, just two years my senior, was there with her family. We had a twenty minute wait. Conversation began between us all -- her family and Jose and me and an Englishman who was spending the afternoon and evening with us.
Then of course the obvious question: "Did you go to the Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur." I was standing somewhat center and I just said it. My reflections. I told them about the rain. I told them how I had seen the Twin Towers ablaze in New York City. I told them how as I was approaching the Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur that all those feelings came back. I told them, then, how it rained, but that instead of feeling cheated out of my touring plans, the rain was a comfort. The skies were crying for me.
How silly of me. The poet taking the pulpit. But there, I said it. Jose was somewhat supportive. He turned to the Englishman and said I could be reflective like this, feeling my feelings. It was something Jose had told me attracted me to him.
The lady from Kuala Lumpur was supportive, too. Everyone else stood mute. Not a word. Not she. She said our life traumas are still there at some level and things like this can bring us back to that time and place where the trauma first impacted us. She was smiling as she spoke. The affirmation felt good.
But little did I know just how well she really understood until we boarded the incline train all still together this family with Jose and me and the Englishman. And then she told us all. It was her turn to speak what she was recalling.
You see, in 1963 when she was but 12 years old, her mother ascended this very incline while she remained below. That was the last time she was to see her mother alive. An heart attack took her mother from her at the top of the mountain. I believe this was only the second time since then that she had made the trip to the top. It had been about 30 years since she was here for her last time.
I could see now how well she understood me when I had said it was fitting that it was raining at the Towers of Kuala Lumpur.
(As it turned out, we were able to view the Towers briefly when the rain let up that late afternoon, and in the late evening, at night, we viewd the Towers for a second. An attende at the seminar took us to the Towers by car. In this photo, you see Jose and the Towers at night, Thursday, August 13, 2009)