Hello,

I am still stunned. Still sitting in front of the television, waiting to donate blood in the future when they need more and promising to turn off the tv in 15 minutes. But, I don't. I can't. I keep thinking of my friends in New York. Wondering how many people I know that won't turn up again. Crying as I think about the endless heart rending stories that are unfolding, that will unfold, that are just beginning.

I hope that you and yours are ok. I know that many are not ok, however. My wordless condolences and deepest, participating, sympathy for all those whose lives were directly shattered. The entire world, all of us, have been shattered along with you.

I appreciate the uplifting stories, as well. From this tragedy tendrils of inspiration are already growing.

My mother tells me that FEAR is the opposite of LOVE, and I will be unafraid.

My father tells me that one should always act, NOT react. Reacting leads to unintended consequences too often.

I am still sorting out the feelings and I promise to act, not react. I hope that America and Americans will ACT and not REACT.

Here are some of the very touching highlights from the emails I have received. I think they're worth reading.

********

*From my friend Ozzie, the quintessential New Yorker...

Yeah its been hectic here I saw everything from my roof after the first
plane struck. We have been holding up well and I am proud of my city
everyone here has been amazing
best
oz

***
*Harrowing story from a friend of my buddy and previous co-worker Gina... JB

My good friend Jenny works on the 64th floor of the world trade. She is fine but wrote me a pretty incredible account of that day.

Lots of Love to you all,

Gina

>From: "jennifer"
>Subject: My Day at the World Trade
>Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001 15:46:24 -0400
>
>First, thanks to all of you who called or emailed or worried their heads off about me yesterday. I walked in my house this morning at 11:30 and have been on the phone with family since that moment. I realized during my last call that I'm not sure if I can handle telling my story too many more times. I'm admittedly still a little shaky and very teary -- but I thought getting it out would be, well, therapeutic. Please, if you have kids and this is going to a family account, don't let them read the rest of this message.
>
>I was trapped in a traffic jam on my way to work and feeling a little put-off about having to catch the later train. I was hoping to get into the office early yesterday, you see. Our advertising agency was flying in to present some new campaigns and I knew I'd be trapped in meetings all day.
>
>As I emerged from the subway a block from the World Trade Center, I walked a more slowly than usual -- was thinking about the big "what are we going to do with our lives" discussion Dave & I had the previous evening. I crossed the plaza to enter World Trade #2, where I work on the 64th floor.
>
>I walked through the revolving door of Tower #2 at 8:45am, roughly 10 seconds before the plane crashed into the first tower. I lived in California for a while, and know what an earthquake feels like, but never have I seen a building shake or heard a BOOM as loud as the one I heard yesterday. A man ran in after me and screamed that a plane had hit tower #1, I saw debris falling from the sky and, with 20 other people, ran down the escalator to the lower level.
>
>It was a madhouse, people we screaming and running everywhere. I was scared, but was trying not to let myself panic. Not sure if I was right or not, I ran for a corner, thinking that it must be the most structurally sound point in the building. I needed to think. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only person who thought so -- men and women were standing in the middle of the floor, running in circles, going back up the escalator. An Asian women slowly made her way to my corner. As she stood next to me, I noticed that her blouse and stockings were nearly burned off her body. I asked repeatedly if she was alright and if she needed help. Finally she answered. I found a security guard who directed her to the Visitor's Information center.
>
>A swarm of people were going through the revolving doors to the underground mall/concourse that runs under the World Trade Center. I decided to follow and made my way up to World Trade #4, the smaller building that sits in front of mine. I hesitated a bit before going outside. Charred debris was falling from the sky and I didn't want to get hit. I ran for it though and, intent on making it back to the subway, dashed across the four-lane street running in front of the Center.
>
>As I ran, something like tiny embers stung my skin and my eyes. Not sure if it was fumes or debris or what. Singed papers and bits of furniture were everywhere -- which immediately made me think of all the people who were sitting at those desks and reading those documents. I turned back to look at the giant flaming hole near the top of Tower #1. A man next to me said something entirely flippant like "Wow" or "Bummer" -- though I can't remember what it was now. I screamed at him: "People are dead! Think of all those people."
>
>My face was stinging so I ducked into the first open doorway, which was the Century 21 Department Store across the street. I started crying and shaking once I was inside. A makeup girl handed me a tissue and asked if there was anyone I need to call. I couldn't get through to David on her phone, so I tried to reach a few of my co-workers. Was unsuccessful. A woman, Janet, asked if I was alright and, together, we made our way to the front of the store to gaze through the large picture windows facing the World Trade Center.
>
>"Oh My God!" someone shouted and I turned my head. I'm glad I did, because that's when the second plane flew into my office building. I didn't see it go in -- only the explosion and flames afterward. It was then I saw bodies falling from the first tower. One, two, three.
>
>Janet and I ran back through the store where people were trying to go back outside. We and a few others shouted for them to stay inside and get away from the glass doors. The store security officers then rounded us up and informed us that they were leading us out through some underground tunnels to the other side of the building. Along the way, Janet and I found a pregnant woman who was clutching her stomach and seemed to be near hyper-ventilation. We grabbed her hand, told her she was safe with us, and took her with us through the tunnel.
>
>Outside, the pregnant women thanked us and we parted ways. (She lived nearby). Janet and I decided to make our way North. Debris was still flying, my cell phone was dead, Janet couldn't get through on hers, and every payphone we came upon was dead. We decided to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. People were carrying other people across, some people were injured, others were wailing. A giant black cloud of smoke floated across the river -- and we would look back to see the Towers in flames.
>
>Halfway across, we finally reached Janet's husband and asked him to call Dave. Shortly after, we reached Dave. I will never be able to describe his voice when we finally reached him. I'll never forget it, either.
>
>Once across the bridge, what looked like falling snow caught up to us. Realizing it was ash, I put a tissue over my mouth. Later, I learned that the first tower had fallen.
>
>There are a few people I will always remember from this experience. One, of course, was Janet. The other was a woman in a convenience store. We stopped to buy water; our throats were sore from the ash. The people in the store asked: "Were you in the building, were you in there?" Janet said "No, but she was" and all eyes turned to me. I tried to keep it together, but started crying as I paid for our water. A woman from the crowd reached out to me, hugged me really tight and said: "Honey, it's o.k. You're alright." I think we stood there in front of everyone for a minute, it seemed a lot longer.
>
>Janet's husband picked us up on a street corner and drove us to their family's home. The rest of the day I spent watching TV and chain-drinking Diet Coke. I called and found out my boss, my employees and most of the people I worked with were accounted for. Many of them were on the 64th floor when the plane hit. If I wouldn't have missed my train, I would've been too.
>
>I spent the night at Janet's. This woman I met in the department store saved me, I'm sure, made me a friend and then welcomed me into her home. She cried when I considered making my way home last night. I would've had to take the subway back through lower Manhattan -- and neither of us were thrilled with that idea.
>
>I didn't sleep last night -- it took a while for my muscles to "untense." I woke this morning thinking that a terrorist destroyed MY office. MINE! Pictures of my baby and my husband were in that debris somewhere.
>
>I took the subway back through lower Manhattan this morning. I wasn't exactly brave about it. As the train approached, I started shaking. When the conductor announced that we would not be stopping at any of the usual stops that run by/under the World Trade Center, I started crying. A woman gave me her seat, but I cried all the way to Grand Central Station and then, on the commuter train, all the way to my stop.
>
>I drove home, though I'm not entirely sure how I got here. My body aches and my legs are bruised a bit. I had a glass of wine at 11:30 a.m. I'm exhausted, but wired.
>
>Sorry this went on so long. There was more to tell than I thought.
>
>Love, JenGet

****
*From a flight attendant friend of a friend

The last two weeks have been chaos but nothing like today. I'm in
Brooklyn Heights, New York, safe, uninjured and have no idea when I'll
get out. You've seen the news.
I watched in a surrealistic swirl of emotion, horror and morbid
fascination as two icons of global stability and power was erased. This
day has been the longest in my life and yet each time I look at my watch
I'm amazed another four hours has past. Time is not a concern here.
No one had any idea what was going on. An airplane had hit the World
Trade Center, how bizarre. I left my friend Rochell's apartment and
headed toward Manhattan to see what was up. By the time I stopped at
the deli for coffee and ambled to the Brooklyn Bridge I was clear
whatever was going on was bigger than what I'd thought or could ever
imagine.
People came across the bridge by the thousands. A sea of people, some
crying but most were expressionless and quiet. Then the rumble, then
the screaming, then twelve seconds later the first tower had fallen. I
looked up to the bridge and saw a thousand twisted faces watch as the
mammoth building crumpled before them in a puff of smoke. They flooded
off the bridge in a cacophony of screams and police sirens. Some talked
to themselves, some wailed, a guy covered in soot guided a woman along
the sidewalk as she cried uncontrollably into her hands. Hundreds of
cell phones were dialed and re-dialed with no chance of connection.
I hurried to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade to get a view of the Lower
East Side. Instead I found a ball of gray smoke a mile high and forty
blocks wide heading right toward me. People were gathering by the
hundreds but no one spoke; we just watched. Moments later from inside
the smoke we heard another roar, more screaming and I feared the other
had fallen. I hurriedly made my way to the apartment as papers and ash
and the dirty smell of fire and grief rained down on my head.
My walking became brisk and I wanted out of here. I caught bits of
conversations and radio announcements as I passed, ' 4 Hijackings', 'the
Pentagon', 'Pennsylvania' and 'one plane still missing, maybe headed
toward Chicago.' I heard jets above my head, my blood ran cold and I
furiously searched the sky for the source of the sound but never spotted
it. I heard later that it was a military jet guarding the city.
I passed a hospital with fleets of gurneys and wheel chairs staged on
the sidewalk next to the loading dock. Blanked face people in green
hospital gowns and paper booties stood in small groups and furiously
smoked cigarettes. They didn't seem to see me as I pass. I saw two
firemen standing in an open doorway guarding their empty firehouse.
They looked like scared ten-year-olds hiding from the school bully and I
realize I'm scared too.
I get to the apartment, open the door and run upstairs. The television
was out, the phones were out, Rochelle is at work in SoHo, I'm in a town
on the other side of the country, the airports are closed, I don't know
if the airline I work for is involved and I'm freaked out. I look out
the window and watch the morning light dim as smoke and ash swallow the
neighborhood.
After twenty tries I get a long distance phone line and call my phone
service to change the outgoing message to let everyone know where I am
and that I'm all right. I hang up and dial and dial and dial and dial
and dial and dial and after what seems like days finally get through to
a friend in San Francisco. I fall apart and sob into the receiver. She
assures me I'm all right and tells me all there is to do at this moment
is to continue to breath. I do and feel connected to the world again.
I go back to the roof to look around and find a nearly pristine piece of
paper that tells me how to 'Renew The World Trade Center's physical
infrastructure and systems to meet tenant needs and expectations by
achieving timely implementation of the capital program and of short- and
medium- term improvement programs.' Who knows what page two had in mind
because the page I'm holding was blown from its staples and shot to me
across the East River?
I imagine a broad man in a starched white shirt and wide tie sitting at
his desk reading all about 'Making it Easier to do Business with The
World Trade Center', as he watched a United Airlines jet fly into his
office. Maybe the nameplate on his desk reads 'Dave.'
About noon Rochelle made it back in from Manhattan, we ate a sandwich
then went out and watched zombies roam from one point along the water to
the next watching the city. Watching what I don't know, there wasn't
anything to see but smoke. Maybe we silently needed to be with people
and this was the only way we knew how. We were silent, separate but
together.
We get to a television at 7:30 p.m. and see our first images. I can't
speak. By midnight we find ourselves eating dinner in a pub and watch
more television reports. The Mayor looks like he was soaked with a hose
then wrung out by the hands of some invisible giant. His face has
collapsed and his eyes look vacant. I wonder how many people he knew
died today. I wonder how many times he's cried.
At 4:00 a.m. EST on Wednesday, I still hear the sirens and helicopters.
It was one of the best days I ever saw this morning. Sitting under
crystal clear blue sky's the city looked clean and fresh from the rain
the night before. I was going to see the Empire State building, I was
going to hang out with some friends and shop for guitars in the village,
and I was going to the World Trade Center to have a hot dog. Things
change.
Kevin
End

*****
*International reaction from my friend in Holland:

Hey,
Went to the Embassy this afternoon. Some friends and I went there to bring some flowers and cards and to sign the condolence register. I also went to light a candle that an American officer placed beside the American flag, which I thought very moving. We had brought huge American flags and at one point one American man came up to me to thank me for being there, then he went off crying. Well that was it, I just broke down. So did a friend of mine. So we just sat there trying to hide our tears from the journalists. In the end one did came up to us, most of them just don’t have any respect. There was also this one guy holding up a sign saying "remember the victims that America makes on a daily bases." That really pissed me off, I really don’t have any other word for it. It was not the time or place for words like that. I also resent the fact that some people say that this is the price America has to pay for all they have done in the past 50 years with regards to international affairs. That makes me so mad, America may not be perfect but I will never ever forget that I owe my very freedom to America. Moreover, the western world relies on America. They are the world’s police man and sometimes have to do the dirty jobs, jobs that the rest of us are not willing to do. Instead of attacking America for that, we should be thankful. Moreover, now is the time to remember the victims!!
At the moment I feel very emotional and feel two strong, opposite emotions. On the one hand there is the grieve, sadness and the feeling that we will never be able to fight this enemy, who doesn’t have any regard for human life. On the other hand, I feel very adamant about fighting back and not let these people scare us. They need to know that you cannot mess with America or any other peace-loving nation.
Finally, I bought Times and Newsweek. The full-color photos are so horrific. People jumping from the building by the 4, 5, or 6. It’s too much.
Well gotta go. Did you get my phone message? Hope you are doing okay!
Warm regards,
Anneloes

******
*From my friend John... (Although it may not be the moment you want to think about this, I do think it is extremely important to think about what he says. He's got a really honest and important point.)

...
As most of you know, I believe that the United States has gradually, subtly, invisibly to most of us, become a police state over the last 30 years.
This morning's events are roughly equivalent to the Reichstag fire that provided the social opportunity for the Nazi take-over of Germany.
I am *not* suggesting that, like the Nazis, the authoritarian forces in America actually had a direct role in perpetrating this mind-blistering tragedy. (Though their indirect role deserves a much longer discussion.)
Nevertheless, nothing could serve those who believe that American "safety" is more important than American liberty better than something like this. Control freaks will dine on this day for the rest of our lives.
Within a few hours, we will see beginning the most vigorous efforts to end what remains of freedom in America. Those of who are willing to sacrifice a little - largely illusory - safety in order to maintain our faith in the original ideals of America will have to fight for those ideals just as vigorously.
I beg you to begin NOW to do whatever you can - whether writing your public officials, joining the ACLU or EFF, taking to the streets, or living visibly free and fearless lives - to prevent the spasm of control mania from destroying the dreams that far more have died for over the last two hundred twenty five years than died this morning.
Don't let the terrorists or (their natural allies) the fascists win. Remember that the goal of terrorism is to create increasingly paralytic totalitarianism in the government it attacks. Don't give them the satisfaction.
Fear nothing. Live free.
And, please, let us try to forgive those who have committed these appalling crimes. If we hate them, we will become them.
May God - or Whatever you want to call It - bless us all. We'll need it.
...
*As well, my client and friend Jeff is donating 5% of his proceeds from September to the relief effort. As the page says:

Dear Reader,
Our deepest condolences go to all friends and relatives of
those lost in the horrible tragedies of September 11th. In an
effort to aid those in need, BIGWORDS.com will donate
5% of all profits from the month of September to the relief
effort.

Please use BIGWORDS.com to buy your books BEFORE
October 1st, so that we may send as much financial support
as possible to those in need.
http://www.bigwords.com/index.php?from=20010913

******

I hope you and yours are as well as possible. Strength, Love, Togetherness.

JB