Hi, all.  I thought you might be interested in a few emails I got from a
very eloquent writer friend of mine who surivived in NYC.  I know it's not
ferret-related, but as BIG and others pointed out, this is sort of an
extreme circumstance that affects us all, and I found some comfort in his
words.
 
Peace, April
 
>From: Mike Daisey <[log in to unmask]>
>To: "Dilettante, A-J" <[log in to unmask]>, "Dilettante, K-Z"
><[log in to unmask]>
>Subject: 09/11/01
>Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001 13:52:36 -0400
>
>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.
>
>md
 
[Part two]
>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 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?
>Those questions seem small today--not unimportant, but smaller, in a new
>proportion.  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 a family 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.
>
>md
 
[Part three -- final part]
>Now it is the day after, and now it is time to act.
>
>Please click the link below--there is a banner at the top of every page on
>my site to Amazon.com's donation page for the Red Cross Disaster Relief
>fund. It's raised over a million dollars in under 24 hours.  It's quick,
>painless and every single blessed dime goes to help those in the current
>crisis.
>
>http://www.mikedaisey.com/journal/index.shtml
>
>I will update the page with further stories, both my own and those shared
>by others in the days ahead, and other resources that people have been
>emailing to me.  Check back if you like.
>
>If you need some solace, go to donate and hit 'refresh' on the donation
>page--you can actually see the counter climbing $1000 every thirty seconds.
>It's the 'good kind' of breathtaking, the inverse of endless CNN footage.
>With donations as small as $1 you can't afford not to give.
>
>Please forward this to anyone and everywhere my original stories have
>gone--I would like to see us harness this amazing outpouring of support
>and get more assistance to people on the ground here.
>
>Thanks,
>
>Mike Daisey
>[log in to unmask]
[Posted in FML issue 3539]