Amid the jagged twisted metal, muddy mounds of gravel and dirt, the incessantly deafening beeping, revving and yelling, I spotted two rescue workers in a corner. 

One was African-American, the other man was so covered in dirt I couldn’t tell.

They were resting from what obviously had been a long rotation at “ground zero”. 

Each had a cup of coffee in his hands and was sipping as they waved their hands and pointed at various spots in the rubble.  I could only assume they were talking about the difficulty and logistics of navigating the maze of steel, glass, and concrete. 

Then the dirty guy leaned over to the black guy as they looked away from their project and he said something that caused both men to smile and then laugh.  

The chuckle wasn’t a belly slapper but it was enough to unfurl the serious etches on their faces that seemed stone carved. 

You see that look a lot down there. 

The sullen almost mortified look of frustration and exhaustion. 

But for a few seconds these two men didn’t have that look on their faces. They seemed to be in another place just that moment they shared.  I couldn’t hear what they said but it felt like I did.  It was the first time I felt like I had permission to laugh. 

If these men who were involved in the grimmest of jobs could look away from the tomb they have endlessly stared at for weeks and find a reason to smile, then I could too.

While most of us are already back in the groove of whatever it is that we were doing before Sept. 11, some are still in a state of shock or maybe reverence. 

For some there is a notion that we might be disrespectful of the dead or the event by having too much fun too soon. 

Others are simply afraid of being in a situation where they may find themselves at risk.  The streets of retail strips have a third or even half the people who would normally be walking them. 

Even business centers as far from the World Trade Center as you can get in the five boroughs are affected by the aura of the aftermath.

The exceptions to this rule I think are Sunday services, where people have been going in larger numbers. 

A previous disconnection from God has been breached in some small way and many find themselves looking to the only entity that may have some of the answers to their questions about this tragedy. 

But in other aspects of life we may still be wounded, frightened, and angry, with an ongoing feeling of morbidity.

The time to unwrap ourselves from these thoughts has come.

The inevitable part of life is that this is inevitable. 

It moves on with or without us.

So if we have to be on board, we should make the most of the trip. 

There will be bumps along the way that cause us to bruise, but the voyage continues. 

We have the choice as to whether we will enjoy it, hate it, or find a happy medium.

Part of the process of getting ourselves back is finding our humor. 

Laughs and smiles are among the few things that do not have to be translated between human beings.  

When we were babies, we did not have to be taught to cry or laugh and now that we have spent so much time crying and being sad, the time has come to laugh again. 

We do not disrespect the memory of those who died by doing so; in fact I believe we honor them.

We defeat the purpose of terrorism, which is of course to terrorize. 

By finding a reason to laugh we defy the cowards who hate our way of life. This is what those people died for. 

We know that if we passed away today, we would want our loved ones to move on and to remember the good times.  To not be paralyzed with sadness, fear or pain.  If we were able to see them suffering we wouldn’t be happy at all.  Knowing this about ourselves, we should assume the same for most people and believe they would want us to get justice but they would also want us to be “just us” and not change into something different than what they knew before they left us. 

Make no mistake what happened was real and should never be forgotten, but if we lose ourselves we lose more than people and buildings.  We lose our way and our way of life.

Laughter is good medicine and it is easy to get.  No prescription needed, no disclaimers or side effects. And it can be contagious.

— Gary Anthony Ramsay is a weekend anchor
and journalist on the all-news
cable station NY1 and along-time resident of Queens.