Delphine zana new york

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Anti-Column by Mehdi Belhaj Kacem. Anti-Column by Karley Sciortino. Schlehr had the first of her three children. Seeliger said that he and his wife had not yet made ''the kiddie decision'' because of the demands of their jobs and the cost of life in Manhattan.

But Mrs. Schlehr knew better. Margaret Seeliger, precise in all things, had intended to start trying to get pregnant in November and had already laid claim to the cribs and baby clothes in her sister's basement. The abandoned lots were originally strewn with rusty cars, decrepit refrigerators and rubble. But over the years, the land became a secret garden, a tree-lined oasis with winding brick paths in the middle of Brooklyn. With his free weekends and evenings, Lars Qualben slowly nurtured frail foot-high seedlings in Carroll Gardens into a backyard of sturdy giving trees for his family.

When his two sons could barely walk, Mr. Qualben hung swings from the branches of the mulberry tree so they could fly through the air. Once the boys could scamper, he pruned the branches so they could climb up and build their own treehouse.

His sons, now 15 and 14, have graduated from middle school. The family celebrated with a party under the tree canopy. Qualben's trees now display a radiant fall palate of reds and yellows. The garden offered Mr.

It now offers his family some solace for their pain. Both their families were originally from Tunisia, but moved to France after Tunisian independence. Saada was tall, handsome, and ''sportif,'' she said, and they fell in love. Last November, they married, and Mrs. Saada became pregnant. Saada was so excited he played Tunisian music and sacred Sephardic melodies for his unborn child, and he would ''talk to my bellybutton,'' she said.

Saada was scared about the delivery, but ''he said we would be together, that he would push with me. The baby was due on Sept. Saada did not go into labor. In the end, the labor was induced, and on Sept. Saada's mother, Dolly, and sister-in-law, Carole, at her side. Eddie Vanacore had a smile that made everyone around him happy.

He was also the youngest of six, and he learned early to be persistent in getting what he wanted. There was the time when Eddie Vanacore was 5 or 6, and the family went to Amish country in Pennsylvania. They happened to drive past a place that sold minibikes, and for the rest of the trip Eddie repeated, ''I want a minibike,'' over and over again.

His persistence helped him go far, and won him a job as a stock analyst for Fiduciary Trust International on the 94th floor of 2 World Trade Center. And eventually, Eddie Vanacore, 29, got the bike of his dreams, a sunset orange Harley-Davidson. He would ride it through rain and snow from Jersey City, where he lived, to see his girlfriend in Albany. Sometimes, ''he would just get on it for a couple of hours and head out into the sunset,'' his brother remembered. Their parents worried about it.

Daniel Rossetti was a carpenter by trade, but he loved and lived to fish. Rossetti loved his days on the water so much that, from boyhood, he stuffed mementos of his trips -- and his luck -- in a zipper-lined photo album. Years later, at the age of 32, he was still doing that. But the album, full of pictures and newspaper clippings, has disappeared. Rossetti, who lived in Bloomfield, N.

That day he had taken the train into Manhattan. He was always around. He always had a fishing pole with him. But that album is missing in action. Susan MacKay, a vice president at the TJX Companies, a discount apparel and home fashion retailer, had been looking forward to her business trip to Los Angeles for weeks when she and some colleagues boarded American Airlines Flight 11 in Boston on Sept.

MacKay, 44, spent her entire professional life in retailing, first for Jordan Marsh, then for Marshalls, a retailer that was later bought by TJX.

But she was much more than a working woman. Alphen recalled that Ms. MacKay, an accomplished seamstress, transformed her wedding dress into a christening gown for Matthew, 13, and Lauren, her 8-year-old daughter. MacKay said. The comforters, the pillows. Her youngest sister got married last fall. She made her wedding dress. Aisha Harris had a plan for her life, and she told her mother, Arvette Harris, that she was on schedule.

At 22, she enjoyed her job at General Telecom as a customer services representative, dealing with accounts and troubleshooting. She switched her major at New York Technical College to telecommunications because she saw a future in the field. She had a lot of friends, and took trips with her girlfriends. They went to Florida last summer. Many had been with her at Adlai Stevenson High School in the Bronx, where she wrote for the newspaper and the poetry magazine, played saxophone in the band, and was an honor student and treasurer of the student government.

But more than that, said Tanisha Robinson, who knew her since preschool, ''she was the kind of person you could talk to about anything -- school, boyfriends, money problems, family -- and she would keep it to herself. But she'd give you her honest opinion. They were thinking about marriage, her mother said, but he also died on Sept.

Thomas Farino was the rock on which his wife, Mary, built her life. He was the baby in a family of six boys, sons of a New York City policeman. He was captain of Engine Company 26 in Manhattan, doing a job he loved. He was posthumously promoted to battalion chief. And his schedule allowed for a lot of family time.

For their children, Jane, 10 and James, 6, it was like having another mother -- ''five out of seven days they'd have Daddy at home. But the good times were rolling recently -- a new house, the fourth trip to Disney World. Farino said. Throughout their 20 years together, she said, he would tell her: ''Love me all you want, want me all you want, but don't need me so much. You have to get your strength from someone higher than me.

After the attack, she thought: ''Wow, this is what he was talking about. It was a gift he gave me by telling me I'm stronger than I think -- I know how happy he would feel to know that I believe I am stronger. For all of Sharon Moore's beauty and elegance -- a slender 5 feet, 9 inches, she was a sometime model whose photo was featured in an issue of Esquire -- she lacked a certain physical grace. Moore's mother. But Ms. Moore, 37, and a native New Yorker, was not embarrassed by her many stumbles.

Though her relationship with gravity was undeniable, Ms. Moore, a vice president at Sandler O'Neill, had another side that was less evident. She was even thinking of pursuing a career as an actor or comedian, he said. With her gone, there is less to laugh about. Moore's son, Lance, was a Thanksgiving baby, said his grandmother. Here is the man you want in a crisis: while everyone squawks, he is listening. A great bear of a fellow, his eyes bright blue and calm, white-haired head nodding, he says, ''Hmmmm.

Charles Mathers, 61, whose quiet sparkle attracted innumerable friends, clients and employees, spent a lifetime handling crises.

As a young man he served in the Navy for six years, much of it in a nuclear submarine. In Sea Girt, N. He traveled around the world, consulting on insurance for utilities, including nuclear power plants. But for all his responsibilities, Mr. On the contrary. This summer, at a conference of utility clients, insurers and brokers in Chicago, Mr. Mathers's company was host to a dinner. Mathers made brief remarks and introduced an executive client.

Mathers's face. Several hundred otherwise staid people gasped and fell all over with laughter. On weekends, the gang gravitated to Charles Lucania's small but serene bungalow just a block off the surf at Atlantic Beach. His friends turned up with burgers for the barbecue. His nephews turned up with toys and bathing suits. Someone usually brought a backgammon board, not that Mr.

Lucania, 34, ever sat still long enough to play. But accompanied by Jake and Sugar, two playful pit bulls raised to be lovers, not fighters, he was always primed to play host. He liked having people around; maybe that's why 2, turned up on Oct. Luke's Church in Whitestone to say goodbye at a memorial service. His mother received the last of her daily phone calls from him on Sept.

Lucania, a union electrician two weeks into a job for PE Stone Electrical on the 98th floor of the south tower, told her something was amiss at the north tower, and promised to high-tail it to street level.

He bought his beach pad in , gutted it, rebuilt, and planned further renovations for next year. Unless he was at work or at a Rangers game, he was probably home, where an open-door policy prevailed. And it was not just his two young nephews who continually shouted ''Let's go to Uncle Charlie's house! Lucania moved to the shore, several buddies caught the beach bug and followed suit. He had his friends nearby. A big smile, a kiss, and a warm embrace: that was him.

Always happy. A few years ago, Mr. Ketcham was summoned into the office of a high-ranking supervisor at Cantor Fitzgerald. He saw a ladder in the middle of the room and started climbing, figuring he had been invited in to change a light bulb. Turns out the ladder was there for someone else. He was being given a bonus. But that was Mr. Ketcham for you: humble. Ketcham was remarkably close to his mother.

He would call her, even at 2 a. She had an uncanny knack for sensing, long distance, when he was feeling down. Ketcham said from her home near Orlando, Fla. I'm not old enough to know that. In her son's briefcase, Mrs. Ketcham found an envelope on which he had scrawled an itinerary for a visit to New York that she had planned but postponed. Ketcham said. Whenever H. Joseph Heller felt strongly that he should do something, he went out and did it.

That's how he ended up owning a yellow turn-of-the-last-century farmhouse on a hilly acre in Ridgefield, Conn. Heller, a commodities broker at Carr Futures, saw the potential in the house and set about restoring it himself. He installed new woodwork, nailed in the window trim, hung the doors, replaced the stair rails. Even when the outside needed a coat of paint, he climbed a ladder with a brush in his hand and did the job.

He was self-taught, with only some Time-Life books and television to help him. And, of course, his wife. Heller said. The house became home for the Hellers and their four children, ages 8, 6, 4 and 16 months.

The only part Mr. Heller, 37, did not build was the new wing put on a few years ago, which included enormous windows -- his idea -- that frame the view of trees and old stone walls. I never really fell in love with it until it started taking shape. He was the one who had the vision. But he had a secret desire to make his mark in the arts, and that is why he was working on a screenplay, finishing a novel and launching a film-production company in his spare time.

Steen, 32, who had moved from Cantor Fitzgerald to Euro Brokers earlier this year, was also an athlete who ran five miles a day, skied, kayaked, snowboarded and surfed, said his mother, Blanche. Surfing was a recent passion, and Mr. Hegarty said he had been teaching him in the waves off Breezy Point in Queens.

Steen took a line from ''Fast Times at Ridgemont High'' and made it his own. Whenever they made plans to do something together, Mr. Steen would finish up by saying, ''I'll pick you up in the van, dude. He may have been earning a fireman's salary, but Ronnie Lee Henderson planned all along to turn that into more. He pared money from his paycheck and put it into bonds and mutual funds. You're a fireman, you know what we get paid,' '' said a friend, Gary Kakeh.

The father of four children, Mr. Henderson also helped raise his five younger siblings. His advice to all of them was consistent: stay in school, save your money. He figured out travel routes that enabled him to avoid paying bridge and tunnel tolls, and would stand in line for hours to get the store specials, said his sister, Sharon. As a teenager, he got a job in a Frito-Lay factory and got to bring home the extra potato chips. Naturally, he shared them with the rest of his family. Henderson said.

For Eileen West, there was always ''the deal'' she had with her husband, Peter M. The deal was an agreement that spontaneity had its time and its place, and that Mrs. West was the one to say, gently, when and where. On vacations, Mr. West, a municipal bond broker at Cantor Fitzgerald, could do his latest daredevil thrill, like skydiving or hang-gliding.

West, a hospital administrator, ''always on the last. A lifelong fan of James Dean, Mr. Documentary styles of Girma Berta, an award winning young artist based in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and Eyerusalem Adugna Jirenga also based in Ethiopia, both under 30, will provide contemporary outlooks on the urban African environment.

While Hakeem Adewumi, Emilie Regnier and Zarita Zevallos make portraits that examine cross-cultural signifiers, such as leopard print, with a charged cinematic beauty. Adama Delphine Fawundu, a Sierra Leonian photographer based in New York, and Ivan Forde, a Guyanese born Harlem raised photographer, use sewn collage and cyanotype with elaborate, dreamlike compositions to create modern representations of spiritual icons and ancient myths like Mami Wata and the Epic of Gilgamesh.