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]