Streetphoto of the Week  Exhibition* Number 1 through 10

6    Home Page   6   The Store   6   Global Places   6   Global Themes   6

*STREETPHOTOS of the WEEK
#1 to #10
July 11, 2006 to September 12, 2006

A several-year private Email Exhibition by G. Mark Smith -- now also available to the public at WWW.StreetPhoto.Com ...

*Streetphoto of the Week #1/ The Soweto Sisters/ Johannesburg, South Africa/ 2006
... new friends of mine on the streets of Africa ...

Issued on July 11, 2006
 

               *Hello All;
            This spring I returned to my studio from yet another one of my lengthy streetphoto field trips, and while catching up on all the emails to friends and associates that had piled up while I was overseas -- I began ending the reply letters with a "Streetphoto of the Day" feature. These seemed to go over pretty well -- and so while adding up my portfolio the other night for a 26-month revolving exhibition of 150 of my images called "Gary Mark Smith: A to Z", I conjured up the idea to start littering the In-Boxes of the folks on my mailing list with a new "Streetphoto of the Week" column -- which I plan to post regularly, (apparently, once a week ...) for the next several years.
Just because I can...

     And just because for one reason or another you ended up on my mailing list -- you'll now be getting immediate access to these cool global streetphotos!!

     But no worries, because "Streetphoto of the Week" promises to never try to sell you anything -- -- -- but instead to just sprinkle a little regular "tube candy" around -- -- -- guerilla art meant solely to get overworked folks like you to stop and smell the street...
In this spirit, marketing of the "Streetphoto of the Week" product line will be discouraged -- because really --, who can afford fine art these days -- -- and who really needs another bloody T-shirt anyway? However, emailing me back a comment about streetphotos you discover that you either love or hate -- and feeling free to post ones you like on your desktop or as your screen saver is encouraged.

     However, if you'd prefer that I'd stop sending these streetphotos to you -- just shoot me an email, and I'll take your email address out the "Streetphoto of the Week" group and put it into the "Needs a Life" group. No -- really --, if for whatever reason, please write to me and I'll discontinue sending the column to you the very next week...

     Cheers,
     Gary

*Streetphoto of the Week #2/ Street Sweep Allure/ Lisbon, Portugal/ 2005

Issued on July 18, 2006
 

*Streetphoto of the Week #3/ Traffic Stop on the Champs Elysees/ Paris, France/ 1990

Issued on July 25, 2006
 

*Streetphoto of the Week #4/ Washington Square Hat Napper/ New York, USA/ 1997

Issued on August 1, 2006
 

                * a back story to Streetphoto of the Week #4 ...
               My contention is that Washington Square park in New York City is the center of the Earth – -- -- nay ... the center of the known universe. Everywhere you look around that place you’ll see and hear the frenetic energy of the city -- the electric infectious buzz of everyday people at play, practicing the optimism of the independent spirit of America. Parents pushing kids on playground swings. NYU students making student films. Young dancers practicing ballet in the shallows of the Washington Square fountain. You’ll see and hear dogs barking and rumbling with one another around the dog walk, vendors hawking hot dogs in front of the arch, and inline skaters or skateboarders zipping past stream-of-conscious poets having personal raves. And when the sun is out – you’ll nearly always see street buskers entertaining throngs of tourists at the south fountain sidewalk stage. You’ll see lovers kissing on benches and beat police eyeballing pot peddlers and you’re likely to hear from the chess players down on 4th Street with their often raucous games of board war.
But although Washington Square is a small place with lots of action and heightened energy, there always seems to be a space here or there in one corner or another where you’ll encounter a righteous benchnapper – come out to commune with the independent spirit of America in his favorite way ...

*Streetphoto of the Week #5/ Five on a Bench/ Warsaw, Poland/ August 1990

Issued on August 8, 2006
 

              * a back story to Streetphoto of the Week #5 ...
           This week's streetphoto was made in the square of the Old Town district of Warsaw, Poland 16 years ago this week. It was Freedom Summer 1990 in Eastern Europe . The Berlin Wall had just collapsed the previous December and European Reunification Day was still two months away, but these five locals came out on a sunny August morning to sit amidst the street painters and the merchants and the tourists -- and to just play their parts in the buzz of the flow of a revolution of spirit.
     After 50 devastating years of War, Soviet domination, and Cold War limbo -- they wore their delight at their newfound optimism on their sleeves ...
... but although their cloths were bold and festive and free, their five faces could not conceal the strain of a people suddenly in transition whose surprise job it was to somehow make this freedom thing work.

*Streetphoto of the Week #6/ Drinking in a Good Book/ New York, USA/ 1982

Issued on August 15, 2006
 

            * a back story to Streetphoto of the Week #6 ...
          Street photographers rarely run into restaurant service staff on the street unless they’re hustling a tray at an outdoor cafe. One rarely catches a kitchen worker in the wild taking a break in an alley, typically a quiet place away from the rush of the city that echoes at any movement and which doesn’t lend itself to territorial intrusion.
Clearly this chap knows how to get the most from a crumby dishwashing stint. Or maybe he’s a line grunt between meal rushes. No matter, having a means to an end is good and having the wisdom to skate through the day when you can manage it on a few words of wisdom and a taste of the grape is even better.
Drinking in a good book in an alley in midtown Manhattan -- an afternoon respite from the grind -- gearing up for the dinner rush -- pretending to be somewhere else ...
 

*Streetphoto of the Week #7/ Paris Sleeper Cell/ Paris, France/ 2001

Issued on August 22, 2006
 

                        *  PS: I got this note back from my friend Deb last week; "Gary, your Streetphoto series is fabulous. I feel lucky to have the opportunity to see them. I have saved them on my PC and hope that is ok. I have sent a few to Astrid. I will not share them with anyone else unless it is OK with you to do so? Thanks again for including me in this email event of your work. WOW I love them!"

     For the record:
          The several-year Streetphoto of the Week exhibition is FINE ART TUBE CANDY meant to be spread around to as many people as possible. The same regular rules and regulations apply about anyone making money off the art who isn't named Gary Mark Smith.
     That's bad.
     But otherwise, everyone I send Streetphoto of the Week to (a vastly growing list of fellow street travelers) is encouraged to forward it on at will to whomever they like -- and to encourage other fellow travelers who want to join the direct mailing list to contact me directly at gary@streetphoto.com and let me know they want in on the fun. You can also rat them out by sending me the email addresses of folks you think should be getting this column every week, but please clear it with the new victims first so I don't overload someone's dial-up system or offend anyone with occationally gritty street content.

     Or you can be like Susan Andrews of Austin , Texas -- who recently let me know that she uses each weekly image as her revolving desk top ...
     That's good!

*Streetphoto of the Week #8/ Devastatingly Beautiful/ New Orleans, USA/ 2006
the Hurricane Katrina Aftermath & the Flood of New Orleans

Issued on August 29, 2006
 

               * Hidden Metaphor Alert ...
           Please don't be so hypnotized by either the "devastation" or the "beauty" of Streetphoto of the Week #8 that you miss the whole story. That is -- if you look past the devastation and beauty (or should I say inside of it) you'll discover the subtle yet stinging hidden metaphor that makes Streetphoto of the Week #8 most compelling:
So -- please be sure to notice the two hurricane-whipped One Way Street Signs blown askew by Katrina, as well as the two reflections of the One Way Signs provided by the gooey floodwaters. These four One Way Signs (representing government, order, and the rule of law) are all pointing One Way in four different directions -- representing the tragically overwhelmed and incompetent government response to this predictable disaster that will ultimately be remembered as being far more disappointing -- and far more maddening -- than the storm itself ...

 
                * a backstory to Streetphoto of the Week #8
           This week's streetphoto was made one year ago next week in the Lakeview neighborhood off Canal Street during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath and the Flood of New Orleans. As a member of the Red Cross' first strike team, I gained access to the edge of this inaccessible place at this tumultuous and historic time. Then, during a rare several-hour break from helping run a shelter in Slidell , Louisiana , I volunteered to go on a pet rescue mission by boat into the floodwaters. At that time a "shoot to kill" order for looters was in effect and people were still being rescued off rooftops. Helicopters were thick in the sky, being used for both search and rescue and for the furious attempt to fix the stubborn breach in the 17th Street levy only a few blocks away from Streetphoto of the Week #8.
     Two months after I returned to my studio in Kansas, (I came back damaged and horribly spent -- because first responders became victims too -- and it took me two months to recover physically from the ordeal) I sent a copy of the photograph to my sister in New Jersey -- and it was she who came up with the title.

                         *PS:
                    Me and the three local Louisiana men whose boat I hitched a ride on to gain access to Streetphoto of the Week #8 successfully rescued four trapped cats from the wreckage of the flood. And later that fall my sister Alyssa (a nurse by trade) joined the Red Cross, went through emergency training, and ended up serving her own three-week tour in the Katrina aftermath in Alabama , Mississippi , and Louisiana.

 

*Streetphoto of the Week #9/ Businessmen on Leashes: The Carrot & The Stick/ London, England/ 2006

Issued on September 5, 2006
 

*Streetphoto of the Week #10/ 9/12/01:Killing the Messenger/ Amsterdam, Holland/ September 12, 2001

Issued on September 12, 2006
 

               *a backstory to Streetphoto of the Week #10
             This murky evening streetphoto was made five years ago tonight as Janet and I became unwitting member-victims of what became known in Europe as "The 9/11 Stranded".
      There we were stuck in Amsterdam ... in Amsterdam ... ... ...
      Well, you know -- I figure you all had your own lousy September 11s watching all that horror up on the TV, and your own lousy September 12s that lasted into 2002 -- and for most of you it's still too soon after and you'll probably just want to skip ahead for a quick look at Streetphoto of the Week #10. However, if you'd still like to read on about mine and Janet's first days in this "whole new world" -- stuck in Amsterdam while New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania burned -- or just want to remember how bloody bad it all was (Never Forget!) you'll find a compelling account from my unpublished journal "White With Foam: Essays, Rumors, Field Notes and Photographs from the Edge of World War III" attached to Streetphoto of the Week #10. It's all about how the world rallied around America and Americans immediately after the attack. About how a short biblical season of global unity began.
My book White With Foam, (written in Amsterdam, Kansas, New York, and in the tribal belt on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border -- written about my brooding trips to a burning Ground Zero and my spooky streetphoto journey under the air war of Tora Bora,) is all about how things went from bad to worse ...

      Where did all that unity go?

*Field Note:
September 16, 2001
*... a backstory to Streetphoto of the Week #10

From the G. Mark Smith streetphoto journal:
White With Foam: Essays, Rumors, Field Notes and Photographs
from the Edge of World War III
Gary Mark Smith/ Pack-a-Lunch Productions (2003/2006/2016)

 
----------------------------

 
             Headline News
             (September 12-16, 2001)
 
             I spent the first few days after the attacks contributing to a worldwide funk. Like everyone else, Janet and I spent awful hours each day out in public piecing together and processing the information that was fed to us over the 24-hour airwaves we came in contact with and in newspapers and news magazines we read and in rumors we heard by word of mouth on the streets of Amsterdam. All of us there helpless on the passive receiver sides of our CNN Breaking News Boxes. Frustrated and helpless news sponges --- out of the loop and peeking in at the grim evolving toll produced for us by the media from the broadcast sides of their TV news screens.
     Defenseless riders on a horrible TV-terror-war bus driven by preposterous politics and unimaginable violence. News bulletins sent over the airwaves and injected into the numbed funk of everyone’s battered brain matter. Brain matter like mine, that thought it had seen it all, that thought it had thoroughly trained itself to be cynical enough to stay safely outside the pain and suffering of any political TV horror show.
Yet those of us stranded in places like Amsterdam --- on the faraway overseas receiver sides of our 24-hour CNN Breaking News Screens --- remained as personally involved as anyone else on the planet. Remote but not removed. Transfixed to the media, mourning the dead, and suffering the loss of security. Fitting our old lives and beliefs around the new world we’d all just been sucker-punched into.

     Trying to figure out what this all meant for us.
     What this all meant for Janet and me.
     We were stranded in Amsterdam on the European front of a brand new terror war, and like everyone else --- especially vulnerably stranded Americans --- we were nervous.

     Because dear God, what could possibly happen next?

 
----------------------------

            Breakfast Headlines & Hugs on the Street
           Everyone I encountered on this Western theater was in a similar funk as Janet and I were. It didn’t matter which of the many nationalities I encountered (in this most international of cities), no one seemed anything but trampled by what had occurred across the sea.
Even the nastiest Amsterdam beggars, the ones who operate at the tram station at Rembrandtplein, were far less hostile at being stiffed, and seemed to ignore Americans altogether just after the attack. They couldn’t bare any bitter eye contact with a species of customer (an American mark) that might look back at them with the pain of Tuesday in their eyes and whom might illicit more sympathy in the beggars than the beggars could elicit from them. An altogether unacceptable role-flipping notion in the professional sympathy racket.
     Because even the nasty beggars of the Rembrandtplein tram station saw September 11 on their CNN Breaking News Boxes and even they wanted to help out the poor Americans. So much so, that last week they found it nearly impossible to draw sympathetic attention to their own panhandler plights.

     Street vendors announced their sympathies in embarrassing fashion, especially for sophisticated Europeans. The umbrella vendor in the red light district stopped me on the street as I stumbled past his stand. He left his stock of umbrellas, crossed the brick street and gently pinched my elbow between his index finger and thumb and whispered, “I’m sorry what they did to you. You didn’t deserve that. Those people must now pay for what they did.”
     I noticed that the umbrella vendor --- usually a surly sort who’d typically not even notice you unless it was raining and you needed an umbrella, and hardly even then --- didn’t end his compassion as a question. He ended it in a firm tone that led me to believe that he wanted to make the terrorists pay for what they did on Tuesday all by himself --- with his own two hands. And as he spoke to me he gently squeezed my elbow and patted me on my back with those same two big hands. It was obvious to me that he thought that my stumbling misery was his stumbling misery too. That my bitter anger was his. That his resolve --- Those people must now pay --- was now supposed to be my resolve too. He hardly knew me but because he knew I was an American and part-time Amsterdamer, he’d left his shop and crossed the street to do what he could do. To buck me up. And lord knows, as a stranded American, I needed that.
     “Yes indeed, I said to him, those people must now pay...”

     The clerk on the Damrak who sells me my newspapers every morning when I’m in Amsterdam apologized on Wednesday for not having a USA Today in stock to sell to me, but it was really the International Herald-Tribune I was after anyway. He took my money for the newspaper and he told me how sorry he felt that, “We’ve been unjustly attacked in such cowardly fashion.” He’d referred to the attack as an attack on both of us, and he let me know that he was feeling a pain as grave as mine. That we were in this thing together.
     We shook hands. The kind of meaningful handshake that binds brothers together. Not a casual greeting among acquaintances, but a firm look-em’-in-the-eye bond at a heightened moment in world history and in the lives of men.

    Only later at Ricky’s breakfast cafe when I’d read the latest news he’d sold me did I understand the depth of that bond, and the breadth of the camaraderie I’d been sharing with all the people I’d run across on the streets of Amsterdam. The body count in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania was rising and it was reported that more than 60 and perhaps as many as 90 countries of the world had lost civilians to the attack. Including scores of Dutch, French, English, and Germans.
    We ate breakfast every weekday morning for those next few days outside at Ricky’s breakfast cafe along the canal at Oudezijds Voorburgwal, and every morning the proprietors, Ben and Ricky, let us know how much they shared our trouble. You could see heartfelt strain in both their faces as they popped in and out of their cafe to fill our sidewalk table with Amsterdam’s best Dutch breakfast.
    We sat at that table in open air along the canal at Ricky’s all those awful mornings after, eating breakfast and flipping through the grisly pages of the morning newspapers, measuring the depth of our sadness in facts from the aftermath of our trauma as we chowed down our food.

     A hard-boiled egg presented on a silver hard-boiled egg holder; NY Missing Toll Climbs to 5000, Pentagon Near 200; four pieces of fresh bread; Bush Mobilizes 50,000 Troops; (two of them white, two whole wheat); Hijackers Armed with Just Knives; butter and jam; Three Jets Carried 5 Hijackers, Jet that Crashed Carried 4; good strong Dutch coffee; Remembrance Ceremonies Held in All 15 EU Capitals; fresh-squeezed orange juice!; Many Jumped to Their Deaths; Gouda cheese; Best Friends Die on Different Flights from Boston to LA; plus a piece of breakfast ham; Multiple Terrorist Cells Participated; and really fresh tomatoes; World Air Traffic Turns Chaotic, Strands Thousands Overseas.

 
-----------------------------

 
             Cafe Chaos
           On Wednesday afternoon we wandered around the Jordaan (Amsterdam’s pub and garden district) and we ended up popping into a beer bar near the Leidseplein along the Lijnbaansgracht (canal) called Cafe Chaos, aptly named for the out-of-control state of mind our whole new world had put us all in.

Cafe Chaos was empty and the woman behind the bar took our drink and sandwich order and insisted on turning off the music and turning on the CNN Breaking News Box for us instead. We told her that wasn’t necessary, but she could tell we were just being polite and she insisted. “I want to catch up on the latest myself anyway,” she said as she put the sandwiches and beverages down at our table under the hanging television set in the corner. “I’m so very sorry for what they did to you. I’m so angry and I feel so sad for all those people. I don’t know what to do these days except to just watch the television and cry,” she said, as tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes and she reached for her apron to dab at the flow about to appear down her cheeks.

 
-----------------------------

 
               Not a Lot of Blabber
         The TV at Cafe Chaos was the same as it was everywhere else we went in Amsterdam in the days following the Tuesday attack on Washington DC and New York City --- now referred to by the media, politicians, and people on the street alike as simply September 11 or 9/11. It was day after day after day of uncontrollable staring at a CNN screen full of grim developments, more grim facts, and multiplying grim bits of factual minutia. I knew that pretty soon all we’d be getting from that TV screen would be repetitive talking heads and babbling media pundits rehashing the same facts they were giving us now in real time, over and over and over again.
     And here and there we’ll get a tiny bit of fresh news.
But there wasn’t a lot of repetitive blabber on the airwaves right now. Because right now fresh events full of fresh grim facts were coming in thick and furious across the ocean by satellite on whatever 24-hour CNN Breaking News Box receiver we’d run across while cafe hopping about Amsterdam in our fog. Hearing the sinister details about how cunning and wicked the attackers were. How the terrorists had picked four aircraft to hijack within a short time of each other to ensure a greater surprise factor and how the four planes were all bi-coastal flights, thereby insuring that they’d all be loaded down with fuel. How they used box cutters that were easy to smuggle onto the airplanes to menace or kill flight attendants as a despicable way to lure the flight crews out of their cockpits. How four cells acting independently of each other each had a trained pilot aboard, and how they’d all learned to turn off their transponders in order to avoid detection.
     Hearing about false terror alarms in America and around the world as everyone on Earth --- according to the TV people --- freaked out. The rising fire department and police force death toll at the World Trade Center, reported to me on the run as I popped into a shop for some smokes. Another account of another soul-stomping final cell phone call from the brink, heard while sitting around at Rick’s talking to our friend Mark and others about the mounting toll.
     All of it too grim and too clear and present to ignore.
The smoking post-apocalyptic ruins of the World Trade Center sticking up out of the grave of perhaps as many as 10,000 innocent souls up on the TV screen. Firemen praying over and carrying flag-draped coffins of comrades out of the smoke. Still photographs of people jumping to their deaths. Memorial candles. Grisly reports of body parts scattered in the street where so many jumpers hit the ground. Missing-person flyers multiplying everywhere, taped up on almost every wall and post between Battery Park and Washington Square. Copy-sized 8-1/2 by 11-inch appeals screaming to frantically find pictured loved ones now presumed dead in the rubble of World War III.
     Stories about box cutters, slit throats, and valor in the sky. Stories about people trapped, people on fire, people vaporized. About fighter jets patrolling Manhattan airspace.
     More sad stories about final phone calls home.
     The shock on the faces of everyone around you wherever you went who you were compelled to interact with outside your own miserable funk. They too measuring the depths of their own hangovers with all the grim new numbers they too read in the newspapers, or heard over the radio, or heard on the 24-hour CNN Breaking News Box, or heard on the streets --- in whichever form the bad news took.

     An American man (also stranded in Amsterdam) came into Cafe Chaos while we were there (a man about 55 or 60 years old) and he told us, “I’m too old or I’d like to help go get those bastards. If I still could, I’d sign up for another tour of duty right now. I’d like to be there when they get him ...”

     The International Herald-Tribune newspaper speculated that about 10,000 people had been killed and the guy on CNN wasn’t sure if the lack of injured treated immediately after the attack was a good sign or a bad sign. More than 350 police officers and firemen were missing and the Mayor of New York had begun wearing a memorial FDNY baseball cap at his news conferences from a place the media’s begun calling Ground Zero.
     All professional baseball and football games have been canceled in America until further notice, we heard over the news. Canceled because of the funk. The Eiffel Tower and most other landmarks in Europe have been closed down until further notice, we read in a newspaper. Closed out of anxiety and fear. Obvious targets closed to the public and events canceled because of the over-powering misery and omnipresent mourning and the absorption of all the depressing minutia in all our daily newspapers and 24-hours a day on all those television sets all over town. Canceled and closed down due to public grief and loss of public appetite for fun and fantasy. And because gathering 65,000 people together in one place until our funk fades away enough to properly secure such a crowd in this new all-out/no-holds-barred terror war world (enough to keep it safe from the sleeper cell mad dogs reputedly in our midst’s) would be imprudent.

     Eventually the hangover will go away enough for us to all get on with it. But damn, it’ll probably take a long while for that. It'll probably seem like September 12th forever. And damn if we're not going to actually be forced into dealing with this mess whether we want to or not. Even those of us who thought all these years that we’d properly prepared ourselves with an adequate armor of cynical indifference. I-used-to-be-disgusted/now-I’m-just-amused Americans are now going to be forced by circumstances (just like everyone else) to work collectively at healing, when just a few days ago we’d been contentedly focused on our own selfish post-Cold War heres and nows.

     So horrible and intrusive this thing is.
     So overwhelming in all regard for fair-weather Americans and fair-weather allies alike ...

 
Headline News:
(September 12-16, 2001)

Terror Strikes America
Hijacked Jets Hit Trade Towers in NY and Plow into Pentagon
Both Skyscrapers Collapse; Huge Causalities Feared
Death Grips the Heart of Lower Manhattan
Many Jumped to Their Death
Couple Held Hands as They Fell to Their Deaths
Blast From Crash at Pentagon Sends Washington Reeling
Near Towers, Scenes of Chaos and Fear
Hijackers Wore Red Bandannas: Armed with Just Knives
Crashed Plane Commandeered by Passengers?
Amid Horror and Disbelief, a Nation Shuts Down.
Multiple Terrorist Cells Participated
World Air Traffic Turns Chaotic
Last Calls From Victims Haunts Tragedy

America Unites in Wake of Terror
NY Missing Toll Climbs to 5000; Pentagon Near 200
Victim Families Searching NY with Flyers for Loved Ones
Attack Broke Deeply Imbedded Illusion That America Safe
Amid the Rubble, Firefighters Grieve for Lost Brothers
Three Jets Carried 5 Hijackers, Jet that Crashed Carried 4
Best Friends Die on Different Flights to LA
Foreign Nationals Missing or Dead: Toll Under Rubble Grows
Europe Rallies to America’s Side for Long Joint Struggle
Eiffel Tower Closed to Public Until Further Notice
5 Firefighters Found Alive in SUV
Hopes Diminish for NY Survivors
Companies Rush to Account for Staff
World Leaders Unite in Condemnation of Terror Attack
A Global Outpouring of Grief and Solidarity
Palestinians, Iraqis, Pakistanis Celebrate NY Carnage
Bush Vows to Hunt Down Terrorists
Bush Assails ‘Act of War’: Early Clues Point to bin Laden
Bush Denounces ‘Cowardly Act,’ Vows to ‘Lead World to Victory’
Amid Chaos, Wall Street Journal Published
Sustained Fight Against Terrorism Promised
Taliban Say World Court Should Deal with bin Laden
UN Evacuating Staff From Afghanistan

Families Begin Burying Dead
NATO Commits to Retaliatory Strikes
Bush Issues Call to Arms; We’re at War, Tells Troops, Get Ready
Allies Declare Support: Attack Directed at All of Us
America in For Long Fight After Delusion of Invincibility
US Pitted Against Stateless Enemy in ‘Gray War’

Hunt For Conspirators Widens
Armed Forces Enlistments Jump:
Option for Young and Angry to Get Involved
US Muslims Hope they Are Not Blamed
Among American Muslims, Outrage Mingles With Fear
Pakistan Gives Anti-Terror Backing: Despite 80-percent Pakistani Approval of Taliban
US Reopens its Skies
Airspace in US Closed Again; Threat Proves Vague
FBI Targets Terror Suspects
Extreme Heat, ‘Pancaking’ Doomed Towers
US Deploys Warships and Planes, Calls up Reserves
NFL Games Called Off
Sports World on Hold; Salt Lake Security Will be Reviewed

Remembrance Ceremonies Held in All 15 EU Capitals
On A Day of Tribute in Europe, National Difference Fades
European Soccer Tries to Understand; Keeps Playing Games, Then Stops.
International Airlines Resume Flights to US
From Afar, US Expatriates Try to Sort Out Tragedy
Shuttle Astronauts Watched WTC Attack from Space
Afghanistan Refuses to Give bin Laden Up
Bush Mobilizes 50,000 Troops
Afghans Brace for US Attack
US Markets to Resume Trading Monday
Diverted Passengers Left in Daze

Amsterdam Aftermath: A Gathering Wave of Global Unity

To The Next 10 SPotWeeks
 

6   Home Page   6   Streetphoto of the Week   6   Year-by-Year   6