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11:30 a.m., Wednesday, September 26, 2001

Yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, Canal Street was its usual bustling bastion of capitalism, with Chinese merchants selling their wares from endless lines of booths along the street. On Canal Street, one can find anything from perfume to postcards, supplies to CDs, Asian crafts to crass trinkets. For the past week or so, the inventory has also included a variety of gaudy T-shirts, buttons, flags, and knick-knacks -- "3 for $10, okay, for you, $8" -- in remembrance of September 11.

But not today. Inexplicably, most Canal Street shops were closed this morning. Traffic, which has been nightmarish since Lower Manhattan became restricted, flowed with few problems. Cabs, few and far between, proved nearly impossible to hail. All without explanation.

Mayor Giuliani announced that beginning tomorrow, cars will not be permitted entry to the city unless they contain at least two occupants. Single drivers will be turned away and sent far uptown to compete for road space. The carpool plan, he explained, will hopefully reduce security risks and minimize the number of vehicles in Manhattan. It will also relieve the additional pressure resulting from the continued and indeterminate closures of the Battery and Holland Tunnels (the main entries into Lower Manhattan). For those of you not familiar with New York City, let me remind you that it is an island, and therefore accessible only by bridge or tunnel. The closure of even one tunnel in a city of more than 8 million residents and tens of thousands of additional commuting workers can create traffic congestion for miles -- and hours.

But that wasn't supposed to be until tomorrow. So where were the vehicles today?

Many of us feel as if we aren't being told everything. Sometimes the thought is comforting: ignorance is bliss. But more frequently, we create scenarios in our own minds and contemplate the subtle movements around us. Stores closed here, vehicles restricted there. Considering the current climate, the wildest of our imaginations may not begin to explain the peculiarities. And as much as we would just like to ignore them, having an explanation, no matter how frightening, would be some comfort.