Hope

New Yorkers participated in a shared dream yesterday. In a luminous confluence of talent, compassion, right effort, and what some would call karma, Circle Line and New York Waterway boats were alongside FDNY and NYPD, aiding the crew and passengers of the US Air jet that miraculously landed on the Hudson River.

The water temperature (as I heard on the news) is around 40F; if you're in that water, you lose mobility after a few seconds. By the time I was on my way home, it was clear that all were ok, and I stopped to chat with a local first responder, saying, "It's a miracle that you guys made it there so quickly." Characteristically, he responded that the Circle Line had gotten there first. We then agreed that people are good. (Generally.)

I spent the rest of the evening at a local restaurant with some neighborhood moms, gathered to support JustTell, a young non-profit led by Vivian Farmery. Some of the women's teenagers studied and ate at tables nearby as the group brainstormed about pulling together resources for a fundraiser and local outreach. (It's true, if you want something done, give it to a busy person!) One kid matter-of-factly spoke into his cell phone, "No, it wasn't a terrorist attack."

Before dawn this morning, I prepared for 11 degree (Fahrenheit) temperatures by donning layers (enough to prevent me from raising my arms above my shoulders) and walked over to the Hudson where the plane was tied up along the waterfront. I don't know what I expected to see, really.

I guess I was looking for hope realized.

What I saw was a bunch of news vans and emergency response vehicles, what I heard was a local newsperson rehearsing her pitch about a miracle, and what I felt was -- cold.

Ducking into the World Financial Center dressed for a hike in the Himalayas, I grabbed a double espresso, chatted briefly with an NTSB guy, and walked up to look out across the street at the construction on the World Trade Center site.

Warm and hopeful, and holding news images of people standing on the water outside the aircraft, I walked home. Grateful that lower Manhattan smelled like coffee and discarded Christmas trees, and not like tens of thousands of burning computers.

(OK, I'm feeling all arty and abstracty with my iPhone -- the photo is actually construction at the WTC site, with palm trees from the World Financial Center and my Himalayan silhouette reflected in the window.)