The Twins of the Twin Towers
In 1994, I made the Bafta-award-winning documentary Silent Twins: Without My Shadow, about identical twins and elective mutes June and Jennifer Gibbons, who committed arson and were sentenced, aged just 19, to an indefinite period inside Broadmoor.
Theirs was an extreme tale of an intense love-hate relationship and a struggle for an individual personality, resolved only by Jennifer’s premature death, aged 30. June struggled to carve a separate identity for herself after she lost her sister.
When Charlotte Moore, the BBC’s commissioning editor for documentaries, asked me earlier this year to make a film about the twins who lost their ‘other halves’ in the attacks on New York’s Twin Towers on September 11, 2001, I accepted without hesitation.
Almost 3,000 people were killed in the attacks that terrible day, and 46 of them were twins. The number sounds extraordinarily high, but it is, in fact, in line with statistical probability.
The story of the surviving siblings had never been told and, given the fascinating nature of twinship, the twins of the Twin Towers seemed both a powerful metaphor for loss and a useful prism through which to revisit the events of that fateful day, and to commemorate the tenth anniversary.
For the twins themselves, making the documentary was to prove a much wanted opportunity for their loss to be acknowledged.
As Lisa DeRienzo, 45, whose brother Michael died that day, says: ‘It was shocking to see how many other twins were affected. Everyone else is talked about, but you never hear that they were a twin.
‘I think people need to know that we’re special people, too.’
When Greg, then aged eight, broke his jaw, he cried all night because he thought the resultant scarring would mean that he’d broken his twinship.
‘I didn’t think Stephen and I were going to look alike any more,’ he says. ‘I thought I’d done something irreparable and permanent.’
The pair met their future wives while they attended the same college, set up home near each other, and had daughters, Madison and Madeline, within a year of each other.
When they were growing up, Linda and Brenda were known collectively as ‘Brendalinda’. ‘If Brenda did something, it was Brendalinda,’ says Linda. ‘If I did something, it was Brendalinda. And it was just like one. So who did it? “Brendalinda.” ’
It was the same for 57-year-old Gary Guja, a physician’s assistant whose identical twin, Geoff, a firefighter, died when the south tower fell. ‘I remember my mother often saying, “I don’t know who did it, but you’re both getting punished now.” ’
Zachary Fletcher, 47, a New York City firefighter who lost his twin Andre, also a firefighter, feels that half of him is missing too. When they were growing up, the pair felt their twinship distinguished them from other children.
‘We used to play that we were like superheroes because being a twin, we had special powers,’ says Zachary.
Greg recalls standing and looking at the World Trade Centre with Stephen. ‘We said to each other, “They’re our buildings, man, the twins and the towers, those are our buildings.’’ ’
The need to form a coherent narrative of the events in our lives is often born of the desire to find understanding, and in the case of the twins, their stories of 9/11 have been worked and reworked over ten years in an attempt to comprehend how something so terrible could have happened.
'Then I said, “I love you.” He said, “I love you too, bro,”
You know, the weird thing about it is why did I say, “I love you”? I rarely told my brother I loved him. I mean, because we knew it. It was just something you knew.'
Zachary Fletcher
‘The phone rang but it went to his voicemail. I said, “Steve, please call me. Please call me. See what’s going on.” So as each minute passes, 8.51, 8.52, 8.53, 8.54, it’s like a drum getting louder,’ says Greg. ‘I started feeling as if I was hyperventilating.’ Even as he tells me this, all these years later, his anxiety is palpable.
At 9.02am, Stephen finally answered his phone. Greg asked him if he was alright. ‘He said, “Yeah, we are alright.” And then at that point, I’m looking at the TV and watching the other plane come in.’
Greg was on the phone to Stephen as the second plane crashed into the south tower. ‘I remember the last thing Stephen said was, “Oh God, look at that.” Then the phone went dead. Then all the mobile phones went. But at that moment, he was alive.’
A couple of days later, at a gathering organised by Cantor Fitzgerald for the relatives of their dead employees, a woman called Barbara Jackman arrived cradling an answer ing machine.
The voice belonged to Stephen Hoffman, the time was 9.17am and, as the FBI later informed Mrs Jackman, this was one of the final phone calls to come out of the north tower, which collapsed at 10.28am.
Stephen, Brooke and 30 or 40 colleagues were trapped in a con ference room on the 104th floor with no means of escape.
Then I said, “I love you.” He said, “I love you too, bro,” ’ recalls Zachary. ‘You know, the weird thing about it is why did I say, “I love you”? I rarely told my brother I loved him. I mean, because we knew it. It was just something you knew.’
It was the last time they spoke to each other.
Gary Guja’s firefighter brother, Geoff, was confined to office duties having been injured in a previous blaze, and wasn’t supposed to res pond to emergency calls at all. From his office window in Brooklyn, he saw the second plane hitting the south tower and tried twice to leave his building to head for Manhattan but was told to stay put.
But his third attempt was successful and he reached the entrance of the south tower just before 9.59am. That’s when it collapsed, burying him under the rubble.
Lisa, failing to reach her brother Michael by phone, had raced to the area soon after the first tower was struck. At the time, she was working as an undercover police officer in vice and narcotics. ‘I saw people jumping out of the windows and off the roof and people were screaming in horror,’ she says.
Lisa was accustomed to running towards dangerous situations but as she approached the towers, something prevented her from entering them.
Some twins believe that their bond means they can literally feel each other’s pain, but neither Greg, Lisa nor Zachary ‘felt’ the moment their twins died and all mourn the fact. ‘I didn’t feel anything,’ Zachary says, sadly. ‘What happened to those special powers that we were supposed to have?’
Only Dan D’Allara, 56, whose twin John was a policeman, felt something at the moment when the second tower fell. ‘I nearly jumped out of my skin with anxiety,’ Dan says. ‘I said, “John! Holy s***, John! I got to get out of here.” And my boss said to me, “Where do you think you’re going?” I said, “I have to get out of here, my brother just got killed.” ’
For the spouses of the dead twins, seeing the surviving sibling has sometimes proved traumatic and the ripple effect of 9/11 has given rise to animosity and estrangement.
‘If I knew then what I know now, I think I would have developed more of a Linda personality as opposed to Brendalinda,’ says Linda.
‘I remember the first anniversary... I thought, “Wow, one year as just Linda,” you know.
‘And it seemed as if every year is like, “OK, this is two years as just Linda.” I guess I’m turning ten years old in September.’
For the spouses of the dead twins, seeing the surviving sibling has sometimes proved traumatic and the ripple effect of 9/11 has given rise to animosity and estrangement. But Greg is still as close as ever to Stephen’s widow, Gabrielle, and his niece Madeline.
At a wedding soon after Stephen’s death, Gabrielle even asked Greg to dance with her. She says: ‘I remember I said, “Dance with me. Don’t talk. I want to pretend I’m dancing with your brother. You feel like him – just dance with me.” And he did and I closed my eyes and I got to dance with my husband in my head and it was wonderful.’
The pain Greg felt after losing Stephen was so great that he would stand on Brooklyn Bridge and contemplate suicide. ‘I remember saying to myself, you know, “I jump up on there, I take five steps and jump. My pain will be over.” ’
When he revealed to his wife Aileen that he had a special ‘spot’ on the bridge where he would stand and think about jumping, she took action and formed a support group for the 9/11 twins.
It was the saving of Greg, who feels that ‘it does wonders for the healing in the heart to know that we’ve got each other. Maybe this is the next best thing. It ain’t oatmeal, but cornflakes ain’t bad sometimes’.
Ten years on, they are all doing their best to get on with their lives but they still define themselves as twins. When you spend time with them, you can almost feel the shadow of their missing twin beside them.
But for Lisa, comfort has come in an unexpected form. The children she has had with her girlfriend Kerri Kuhlsen have provided her with what Kerri calls ‘happiness or completeness’.
Kerri gave birth to boys – Cooper and Michael – 18 months ago. They are identical twins.
英国纪录片首次披露46对双胞胎因9·11事件
落单
英国《星期日邮报》4日报道,2001年9月11日,
不为人知的是,在3000多名遇难者中,有46人是孪生子。
“哦,上帝啊,你看到那飞机了吗?”
现年46岁的格雷格·霍夫曼拥有12个兄弟姐妹,
当听到第一架被劫持的飞机撞上世贸大楼北塔的新闻后,
上午9时02分,斯蒂芬终于回了他电话。格雷格回忆道:“
数天后,在遇难者家属组织的聚会上,一位名叫芭芭拉·
“我也爱你,兄弟”
现年47岁的扎查利·弗雷奇尔至今仍清楚地记得,
扎查利在南塔倒塌之前不久才赶到现场,
扎查利回忆道:“我对他说,‘不要做任何愚蠢的事。’然后我说,
丧兄之痛难以愈合
现年45岁的丽莎·德里恩佐与迈克尔是对龙凤双胞胎,后者在9·
尽管丽莎对在危险状态下工作早已习以为常,
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