I could still smell the smoke the first time I visited Ground Zero. It was October 2001, only one month and some days after morbid reality first crashed into New York's twin towers. The wreckage was still smoldering. Pictures of the lost and missing still adorned the chain link fences on various corners. The streets and stores were vacant for blocks with the exception of a few curious onlookers. The bustling New York City I knew was not here. It was in Times Square and Central Park, albeit slightly more subdued than usual, but here it was quiet.

I remember there being a lot more confusion during that time. Solid information about what brought us under these circumstances was sketchy at best. Bin Laden and something called Al Quaeda were to blame for this kamikazi mission we were told. Most Americans had never heard these names before. For a time we rallied around each other and tried to pick up the pieces together. For a time we seemed to be equals with each other. But it was only a matter of time before mourning began to take a back seat to anger and blame and a violent backlash at those who attacked us, and even those we only thought attacked us.

I stood there thinking, why did we need such a tragedy to bring us back to basic values? Why is it that people have to die before we consider them human and appreciate the sanctity of life? And how quickly all that turns right back around once we know where to point a finger.

Five years later, in 2006, I went back. It was a completely different story. I could see the two blue towers of light paying tribute from the window of my friend's apartment in Edgewater. I took the subway down to the site that night. Everything was much more cleaned up of course, and now there was a better fence structure around it and a viewing deck. There were a few candle vigils. A few people stood at one end of the fence reading loudly the names and stories of individuals who had been lost.

But as I began to really take in my surroundings I noticed other things that disturbed me. People were selling t-shirts and pins and pictures of American flags and the Towers themselves. All around the perimeter of Ground Zero there were men and women with their carts set up, ready to sell a souvenir under the thin guise of patriotism. Take an American tragedy and turn it into American consumerism. That's what we do. I saw a man with a Bible pacing around and yelling about how God had wrought this on our nation because of our liberal sins.

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