Early on the 12th, my partner and I walked down Charles St to the West Side Highway, the only road that was still open in our neighborhood, to see what we could see. When we arrived at the western most median, there were only two other people there, both young women, with whom we started chatting. It was decided we needed signs to cheer on the various emergency vehicles and other helpers whizzing by, so my partner and I went off in search of materials. By the time we’d gathered some, the aforementioned salvaged boards, paint & sponge, Sharpies, some cardboard, etc., the group had swelled to about a dozen. I painted the sign you see, which we stayed with, cheering, for a few hours more. At one point, we left it with the group to clean up, grab a bite & bring our neighbors, Timothy & Laura back with us. We couldn’t have been gone too long—an hour, max—but as we were heading back, you could literally hear the crowd roaring over a block away. I couldn’t tell you how many people were there—50? 100?—only they kept coming, all day, well into the night. And I’m not mistaken, there were at least a few people there almost 24/7 for several days. I’m not sure when or by whom it was dubbed “Point Thank You,” but that’s what that little pork-chop of roadway will always be to me—and my ex, my neighbors (the ones we already knew & brought with us and the ones we met there alike) and so many others. 9/11/01 was a terrifying, surreal time to be sure—especially in areas like mine, between Ground Zero and 14th St., that were pretty well cut off for quite some time. But it wasn’t *just* that. It was also a time of incredible kindness, compassion and generosity. True selfless-ness. I’ve always loved NYC—born and bred, baby!—but I’ve literally never been prouder of my city and the people in it.
This sign was made from leftover building materials salvaged outside a construction site on Charles St. and painted with a cut sponge & leftover paint from my recently repainted kitchen cabinets.