I find myself unable to stop reading the stories in the New York Times about the individual folks who died in the World Trade Centers. Every week, the publish more stories and more photos, and each time I read some, I tell myself it’s too depressing, I’m not going to read them again. This morning I read about a woman, Alisha Levin, and I can’t help but think she’s the type of person I would have hung out with in my New York days; she could have been one of my uptown friends who occasionally slummed it with me in the East Village or would perhaps try to drag me to a place like Au Bar for $20 beers and older men looking for trophy girlfriends. Thirty-three, single, I’m guessing Jewish, much like my life had been until relatively recently. It makes me think of people I haven’t thought of in years, makes me wonder about certain friends. Where are they? What are they doing? Are they still here? These little bios are surreal–just a tiny snapshot of the person, a single story to illuminate who that person was, what made her tick. If I were to have my life summed up in 150 words, what would it say? Anyway, this is Alisa Levin:
Alisha Levin lived alone in her own apartment and loved New York — the lifestyle, the rhythms of the city. She loved her job as vice president for human resources at Fuji Bank. Loved working at the World Trade Center and looking out the window on a clear day. “She hated it when it rained because she couldn’t see through the windows,” said her aunt Marlene Roseman, who lives in Philadelphia. “She just enjoyed getting up every day and going to work.”
She worked very hard, sometimes seven days a week. But every other week, Ms. Levin, 33 and single, would go home to Philadelphia to spend time with her parents, Audrey and Marvin; her sister, Mindy Gottenberg; and her adored nephews, Jacob, 5, and Alex, 2.
“There was a special bond between Alisha and those boys,” her aunt said. “She never came home without bringing them toys. She spoiled them rotten, and they loved her.”
