:: Tuesday 11 September 01
...No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee...
Donne, Meditation 17
I thought Harvey and Mark were having me on. I'd done a final check of the Startribune on-line around 8:00 -- 9:00, NY time -- and contemplated what a boring news day it seemed to be, and did a little more writing, and then shut down and biked in to work. Right inside the door, I ran into Harvey and Mark, and they said, "You heard what happened?" Harvey and Mark are notorious practical jokers, and I've learned not to take them seriously, so I wouldn't believe them until they dragged me into Mark's office, and showed me the images on his computer. Even then I had to check the URL to make sure they were legit.
People were roaming up and down the halls, up and down the halls, and I could hear many radios playing in people's offices, announcers with that tight high-pitched Breaking News sound to their voices. I wasted some time trying to get into various news sites on the web. I stood furtively outside my office-neighbor's door, listening to her radio, trying to tune out her strident proclamations of "It's war! It's World War Three!!" I sent off e-mails to all my NYC friends, asking them to let me know if they were OK.
Finally I gave up pretending I was trying to work, and joined the hordes roaming the hallways. The students were jittering around, very unsure of how they should react. A TV was eventually set up in the career center; I took a glance in and realized that if I looked at any of the images I'd come unravelled, and I didn't want to come unravelled at work. There was a student I know in there, a girl who'd come over from Bosnia not long ago, sobbing uncontrollably, with several of her friends sitting around her trying to give her awkward hugs.
Then the dean came down the hall announcing that the U was cancelling classes for the afternoon. A few students cheered and were glared at by the others. I closed up my office and biked slowly home, through crowds of somber students making their way towards buses and cars.
Got home, flipped on the TV. Spent some time being unravelled. Tried to go to the blood bank, but they were mobbed, and asked me to stop by tomorrow.
So I've been going back and forth between the TV and websurfing. God bless the internet--pictures, stories, video, anecdotes, horror stories, rumors, updates flying around the world. People offering their homes to stranded strangers, passing messages along, carrying the word on who's alive.
Stay in touch, everyone. Keep connected.
fandom journals
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"Our vocation is not a sphinx's riddle, which we must solve in one guess or else perish. Some people find, in the end, that their paradoxical vocation is to go through life guessing wrong. It takes them a long time to find out that they are happier that way."
--Thomas Merton