An email, much forwarded, I received today; the author of the piece
is unknown to me:
TO: My Relatives and Friends,
I don't personally know the author of this piece but the emotion can
be felt and it is healthy. I have a lot of anger today and yet I want
to remember that there are more people like this in the world than
the worthless
examples of humanity who did this.
This was sent to me by a friend and had been forwarded several times:
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
I am writing this from downtown New York. In a
perverse reversal, I have no way to contact anyone except
through my high-speed wireless Internet connection--phones
are out, and electricity in the area is intermittent.
The media will ultimately tell the story better than
I, but I can tell you that there is massive loss of
life. The sky is black with ash, the people have been
panicking and fleeing in unadulterated terror. I have
never seen anything like it. It is very difficult to
breathe, even with your mouth covered--the ash blows
down the streets and burns your eyes. It feels like
the world has ended. When the screaming started and
the crowds began to run after the second plane struck
it was a horror film running in overdrive, jumping
frames and cutting in and out. Time got lost--I don't
know how long this went on. I have a cut on my leg. I
ended up in a Wendy's where a huge number of us took
refuge. I don't know where the workers were--I helped
get water for people.
I am starting to see emergency workers, and the
streets are clearing somewhat--at least the first
waves of panic are passing. I've seen bodies draped in
white sheets--it took me a time to realize those were
bodies, not injured people; they must be out of room
or not be able to get them to the morgues or the
hospitals.
I'm headed for the Brooklyn Bridge to walk out of the
city. I'm going to stop at any hospital I find to give
blood before leaving. If anyone reading this can,
please donate blood--I heard from a medic that the
hospitals are already running out.
Part 2 -----Original Message-----
Sent: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 4:12 PM
Subject: Email from New York Pt. II
I am writing this from my home in Brooklyn after
leaving Manhattan. I have signed up for a time slot to
give blood later this evening and have a few hours
available before then.
After my last posting I made my way east through an
urban moonscape--everywhere there is ash, abandoned
bags in the street, people looking lost. I managed to
get a cell line out to my friend, Jean-Michele, who is
still in Seattle, and she helped me navigate with
online maps as I plotted my exit strategy.
Bizarrely, I caught a taxi crosstown. I was standing
at a corner, I'm not even certain where, and a taxi
was sitting there. A very pushy woman, whom I will
always be thankful for, barged her way into the cab.
In a moment, without thinking, I climbed in too. The
driver, a Pakistani guy who had an improbable smile,
immediately took off.
The ash blocks out the sun downtown--it's like driving
in an impossible midnight, and even more impossible
that I'm in a cab, with this woman who won't stop
trying her cell phone and another man, my age, who
looks like he's been crying. Maybe he just has ash in
his eyes. I know I do--I feel like I will never see
properly again, though that's probably just trauma. I
don't even know where the driver is going. The crying
man got someone on his cell phone, starts explaining
what he's seeing out the window. It's like having a
narrator traveling with us--I only notice the things
that he is describing as he describes them.
God bless that taxi driver--we never paid him. He let
us all off, and I think he got out as well, near the
Brooklyn Bridge. There are cops everywhere, people are
herding themselves quite calmly, mutely, onto the
bridge. We all walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, which
is unbelievably beautiful, the wires and stone of the
bridge surrounding us and the bright sun ahead,
passing out of darkness.
No one is talking to each other, but there is a sense
of warmth. Everyone has their cell phones out, fishing
for a clear signal. Those who catch them talk
hurriedly to families, friends, people in other
cities, children in their homes. It is comforting to
hear their voices, telling how they are okay, shhh,
it's okay, I'm okay. As we walk out into the sunlight,
I am so happy to be in this company, the company of
people who are alright, those who walked out.
I was in the city today to turn in some of my book, I
had stayed up all night writing and I was so
worried--is it ready, have I done my work?
I kept thinking of how much I have left to do in my
life, so many things that are undone, people I haven't
spoken to in years. It's overwhelming to feel everyone
around me thinking the same thing, the
restless thoughts trickling over this bridge as we
come back to Brooklyn.
>From the Promenade I stand with hundreds of others,
listening to radios, watching the plumes of smoke and
the empty holes in the skyline. People stand there for
a long time, talk to one another in hushed tones.
Someone hands out a flier for a vigil this evening,
which I will go to after I give blood.
What can be said? Just this: we will emphasize the
horror and the evil, and that is all true. It is not
the entire story. I saw an old man with breathing
problems and two black kids in baggy pants and ghetto
gear rubbing his back, talking to him. No one was
rioting or looting. People helped each other in small
and tremendous ways all day long. Saw a family that
was giving away sandwiches at the Promenade. Everyone
I talked to agreed to go give blood.
If a draft had been held to train people to be
firefighters there would have been fights to see who
got to volunteer.
No matter how wide and intricate this act of evil may
be it pales in comparison to the quiet dignity and
strength of regular people. I have never been more
proud of my country.
This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Tue Jan 08 2002 - 09:19:36 PST