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Viewed through the unripe eyes of Calhoun’s 13-year-olds, the collapse of the Twin Towers might have been a natural disaster. Captions tell us that the “The loss was sudden and great”; “Smoke and dust were everywhere”; and “The streets were empty.” For all the project’s pretense to chronicle, nothing indicates why. “People donated blood.” So? Blood drives are commonplace. “The people were afraid.” But of what? Yes, “people still miss the Twin Towers.” But why are they gone? Did they just fall down of their own accord? Might their destruction have had something to do with the lethal ideology of Islamist jihadists? Or with Islam’s theological imperative toward war with the infidel and the religiously sanctioned violence of classic Islamic jurisprudence? The display keeps mum on the critical matter of responsibility.

— 9/11: Through Young Eyes is on view through October 8, 2011, at DC Moore Gallery in West Chelsea. The exhibition consists of work made in 2001 by an eighth grade class at the Calhoun School, after seeing an exhibition by Jacob Lawrence at the Whitney (oh and, I guess, also the devastation of downtown). It is also, according to this absolutely scathing review, a heaping pile of ahistorical garbage. Also: "An oddly truncated exercise in sanitized storytelling that sacrifices historical understanding to a bien pensant avoidance of the obvious." HAHA WOW.

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Laura Griffin works at Vanity Fair and produces Seven Second Delay on WFMU. You can follow her here, if you are so inclined: @lgriffin.

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George Spyros, 44, executive producer: I got married the weekend before. We had a bunch of friends and family from out of town, and went out Monday night for dinner. My wife and I were supposed to fly out on September 11^th for our honeymoon. On top of that, it’s my birthday.

Michael Wright, 44, editorial director: September 11^th has always been the best day of the year for me—and then it all goes to shit.

Allison Spensley, 31, mid-career change: It was my 21^st birthday, so of course I had plans to go out.

Ochia Nsor, 29, quality assurance officer: In my family we have this tradition where whoever’s birthday it is, we all sing “Happy Birthday” when they wake up. That didn’t happen.

Will Beers, 25, computer specialist: It was my 15^th, when you can get your learner’s permit. So I was actually in line at the DMV that morning in Miami with my dad.

Rob Knox, 40, commercial producer: I was woken up by a neighbor pounding on my door saying, “Turn on the TV, turn on the TV!” Really no thoughts about my birth at that point.

Evan Boorstyn, 45, publishing: I was at "The Today Show" with an author who was being interviewed at the time of the attacks. He’s basically the guy whose face they showed when Matt Lauer said they were going to breaking news.

Jessica Ford, 35, costume designer: I was on the train headed to Grand Central station. It was before cell phones were so prevalent, but a few people on the train had state-of-the-art phones. I remember someone said, “Something happened at the World Trade Center.”

Michael Wright: I thought it was like the World War II plane, where it was an accident. But then the second plane hit and that’s when you knew something terrible had gone on.

Hillary Kaye, 30, graduate student: I was in Berkeley where I went to school, fast asleep, and the phone rang. It was my dad. He was like, “Hillary, look what you did now. You brought in World War III!” Which is a nice way to wake up.

Jessica Ford: We got on the subway platform, and there was this mushroom cloud. There was a homeless man on the platform with a sign that said, “The end of the world is happening. Repent! Repent! Repent!”

Hillary Kaye: I think I was going to have some type of a party, but we just sat around and watched TV and ordered Chinese food.

Ochia Nsor: It was the first time I realized my birthday was 9-1-1, you know? I never thought of it like that before.

Will Beers: Especially because of the numerology. 9-1-1 is so easy to remember. “9/11” was such an innocuous thing.

Evan Boorstyn: And to hear “9/11” repeated so often, everywhere, when up until that point the only people talking about that day were people celebrating my birthday.

Jotham Sederstrom: My new boss was calling for three different reasons. He’d known it was my birthday. So he told me, listen, because of 9/11 we’re clearing out a portion of the sports department and we’re not going to need you to come in tonight. So, one, thanks for doing a great job. Two, we don’t need you to work tonight. And three, we’re working on getting you a raise.

Rob Knox: It was weird later in the day when the people in the office were singing this zombified attempt at “Happy Birthday.” They’d already bought the cake.

Jotham Sederstrom: Be nice when you write it, though. I don’t want it to sound like I’m gloating. But it was kind of a decent day for me in that way.

Allison Spensley: A few of us decided we’d still go out for my birthday, so we went to Buffalo Wild Wings. They had those huge TVs, usually with football and basketball and whatnot on. But there was news on every single TV. It was so somber. We had a couple of drinks and called it a night.

Evan Boorstyn: I was just sitting on the couch watching TV, and someone who lived near me called and said, “You’re going out. It’s your birthday, no matter what happens.” So we had some drinks.

Will Beers: My parents and I rented a movie to watch that night. The first Meet the Parents. It was supposed to be funny and light-hearted, and it was just, like, we’re not really enjoying this at all.

Jessica Ford: We ate an awkward meal in this restaurant. We were the only ones in there, and then the waiter came out and sang “Happy Birthday” in Spanish. It just felt so inappropriate.

Michael Wright: If I get carded or walk into a bank, they kind of look at you and say, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” And it’s like, “Fuck you, it’s my birthday.”

Ochia Nsor: Others have this loud laughter. It’s uncomfortable laughter. But there’s always a reaction. I always get a reaction.

Allison Spensley: “Ooohhh, honey. Oh, that’s too bad.”

Rob Knox: They show me this sympathy.

Jessica Ford: People usually wince. Or say, “I’m sorry. That sucked.”

George Spyros: Shortly thereafter, I was shooting something at West Point and showed my driver’s license and they’re like, “Oh, 9/11...” It’s, like, respect.

Jotham Sederstrom: When people do notice your birthday’s on 9/11, you develop a little way of reacting to it. You make awkward jokes like, “Never forget.” Shit like that. Just because so many people have said something, you have a way that you respond.

Hillary Kaye: I always make light of it by saying, “If we were at a sporting event and there were 40,000 people watching a game, and one person got shit on by a bird, it would be me.” It’s just my luck.

Will Beers: “Well, maybe we’ll make it a holiday.”

Evan Boorstyn: And then of course you run into people who don’t even make the connection. I’m always amazed at airports when they’re checking IDs, how many people don’t bat an eye. Not that they’re supposed to do anything about it, but…

Rob Knox: I compare it to my grandfather’s generation when people were born on Pearl Harbor day. For a decade or two, people were very aware of December 7^th.

Jessica Ford: It’s like being born on D-Day. It’s the biggest tragedy we’ve experienced in our lifetime. So I can’t say, “Gosh, I hate that it ruined my birthday.”

Jotham Sederstrom: Something I realized a little after the fact was that my mom was born on Pearl Harbor Day. So, there’s definitely no feelings of “why me?”

George Spyros: There was never a thought of, “Why would this happen on my birthday?” It just never computed for me.

Evan Boorstyn: I never took it personally.

Jessica Ford: I feel like I have a morbid outlook anyway, so if it was going to happen to anyone, it would happen to me.

Hillary Kaye: Aside from the fact that it’s a huge tragedy and ruined many people’s lives, in my own selfish world I’m like, “Of course, it’s on my birthday.”

Allison Spensley: I guess I was a little bummed out, but there are far worse things than having your party ruined.

Hillary Kaye: Definitely I didn’t do anything that year. It felt weird to send out an Evite.

Jotham Sederstrom: The very next year, I moved to New York. And at the time, there was like this dividing line. You know, the people who were there for that and the people who weren’t. I remember feeling a little bit like a foreigner, so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it

Will Beers: But I did get a car that next year, since it was my 16^th. So it was still kind of positive.

Michael Wright: The first year I was like everyone else, just bummed out, not even halfway in the mind of celebrating. But the second year I was like, fuck that, I’m reclaiming it. My band played, we had a big party, everybody drank, had a grand old time. We kind of took it back.

George Spyros: There’s this weird sense of responsibility to celebrate life. I know everyone’s hung up with it being about the people who died and mourning. But how do you celebrate someone’s life and the meaning it had for those people who died? You double your commitments to living and living life well.

Hillary Kaye: I think enough time’s passed where it’s socially acceptable to be born on that day and still want to do something. There’s not this stigma attached to it.

Rob Knox: There’s me, Harry Connick Jr., Kristy McNichol and, rest in peace, Tom Landry. All born on 9/11. You should probably call Kristy McNichol. I’m sure she’s hoping somebody will call.

[Kristy McNichol could not be reached for comment.]

George Spyros: Sometimes, filling out stuff online on Trip Advisor or whatever, when the TSA wants to know your birthday. Whenever I’m typing in “9/11,” I feel like someone at the NSA is watching. The paranoia that I’m some Al-Qaeda person and they’re going to be like, “He must be one of the bad guys because he likes that bad things happened to America.” It’s a crazy non-logic.

Rob Knox: Before it was, “Hey, isn’t your birthday in September?” And now it’s not necessarily people who should know my exact birthday, know it.

Ochia Nsor: People are always aware of my birthday now.

Will Beers: So that’s positive. People never forget it.

Evan Boorstyn: There are a couple of people who say “I’ll never forget your birthday now.” But human nature being what it is, they’re usually the people who do.

George Spyros: The short answer is whether or not I remember birthdays before 9/11.

Allison Spensley: Before? There was less alcohol. Just because I was not yet of age.

Rob Knox: People are willing to say “Happy Birthday” to me the last couple of years without both of us having to stop and take a moment and have caveats.

Jessica Ford: Ten years later, it still feels inappropriate to make birthday plans on my actual birthday.

Allison Spensley: Now I’m at the age where I don’t have to celebrate them at all anymore!

Hillary Kaye: Although I think this year will be another … because of the media and the events planned around the 10^th anniversary, it’ll jog people’s memories.

Michael Wright: There’s all these reasons to stay in this year, but it’s not that I’m bummed out because it’s the 10^th anniversary. It’s because I’m content to sit at the table and watch my three year old and one year old make a mess of themselves. You know?

Jotham Sederstrom: For the first few years after, if I called anyone up to say, “It’s my birthday, let’s get a drink,” I was worried some people would a. not want to celebrate on that day, or b. actually have some kinds of plans related to honoring the dead. These days if I have some friends who can’t make it, it’s because of Fashion Week.

Will Beers: Yeah, it’s odd. But then again, it could have been on any other of the 364 days of the year.


N.B. All ages as of 9/11/11.

Rick Paulas can be reached at rickpaulas at gmail dot com.

Illustration from a photo by Amanda Slater; art direction by Joe MacLeod and Tom Scocca.

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In lots of ways, September is one of the very best months we have. The fetid, humid wilt of August lifts into a cooler, cleaner late-summer balm. The sky is bluer and the clouds whiter and puffier than at any other time of year. Baseball games start to actually matter and corn is so sweet you don’t even have to cook it. Sure, there’s the inevitable reminder of aging and mortality that comes with tipping towards autumn, and when you were a kid, back-to-school time definitely sucked. (Except, not entirely. There was the excitement of novel possibility: Maybe you wouldn’t be such a dork this year? And new sneakers and pencils and fresh vinyl trapper-keepers into which one could carve the names of rock bands with a paper-clip. How lucky that there is an “H” in the middle of the both “The” and “Who!”) Really, if children were smarter or more honest, they would see the value in accepting human mortality, and they would realize and admit that by the end of summer, even they are sick of summer. Unless you’re Jimmy Buffet or Jack Johnson or something, September always comes as a relief. In fact, it should be a cause for celebration.

But in today’s world, it can’t really be that, can it? Certainly not here in New York. Because of the terrible thing that happened here ten years ago this month. This year, since it’s a rounder-numbered anniversary, we’re already being reminded—sometimes stirringly and eloquently, sometimes less stirringly, even by writers we admire. (If the “end of” a way of thinking can be pinned on that way of thinking’s inability to overthrow an “ever-more-powerful political-financial complex,” then many more ways of thinking than just irony have been much more ended than they have seemed for a long, long time.) There will be more gloomy remembering in the next couple weeks. There’s no way for September to escape its very recent history.

Not even in the simple terms of just enjoying a nice late-summer day. Last week, on Tuesday, we had one of those days, a beautiful September-style day in August. The brilliant blue sky, the cotton-ball clouds, the perfect temperature and clarity of the air. Then there was the earthquake. That night, my wife and I were walking on the street with her parents when we met a couple of their friends. We all told our earthquake stories, of course, and one of the people we’d just met said, “I knew something was going to happen today.”

“It was too nice out,” he said.

I agreed, sadly. I had been thinking the same thing earlier in the day. I imagine lots of people around the city had been. That’s one of the very worst things about this time of year every year now. Along with the lasting ramifications of a president launching a criminal war while at the same time cutting taxes and making everyone think they should get in on the “ownership society,” we can less fully appreciate these few short weeks of the year when it’s actually bearable to be outside.

Because we are all too busy "celebrating," whether we want to or not, what September has become in the past ten years, a 30-day tribute to the lameness of life in 21st-century America. In 2004, we made it official: September is National Preparedness Month. As the U.S. Department of Homeland Security reminds us, this is "A time to remember. A time to prepare."

Thanks a lot, terrorists.

Previously: August; June; May; April; March.

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When the cover was released on the Nonesuch site and elsewhere, there was, instead, an outpouring of controversy mostly by people who had never heard the music.

When WTC 9/11 was performed by the Kronos Quartet, first in Durham, North Carolina, at Duke University and then shortly afterwards outside of Los Angeles and then at Carnegie Hall and again at the Barbican Centre in London, the reaction of the public and press was extremely thoughtful and moving. To have this reaction to the music usurped by the album cover seemed completely wrong. Accordingly, the cover is being changed.

I want to thank Nonesuch for backing up my original decision about the cover and for backing up my decision now to change it so we can put the focus back where it belongs, on the music.

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