more cyber-words from a wild world...

A musician pal Miles forwarded this first-hand account from NY by a friend of a friend of a friend... The internet has enabled us to share our experiences round a cyber-campfire - just as our ancestors did.

Subject: Forward of a First person account from NYC
Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2001 12:34:14 EDT
From: Miles

PART ONE

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 TWO

I am writing this from my home in Brooklyn after leaving Manhattan, 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 cross-town. 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 all right, 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 some 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.

Kathy - an English gal living in L.A. received this note from her nephew in London.

Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2001 15:39:41
From: mick

Hi Kathy

Thought i'd drop you a line. No one over here could believe what was happening last tuesday must have been the same there. Pictures that they were showing were unbelievable.

Lots of outrage here about whats happened. There is loads of support for america here and i think everyone is behind you no matter what action is taken, We understand terrorism but I think this is beyond that and is just murder. Trouble over here is that people feel so helpless not being able to do anything, lots of people putting up passengers for the night who were trying to get home. Lots of flowers being placed at the embassy and other places. It must be horrendous for the families knowing the worst but having that little bit of hope.

Krys is a pal who lives in Bloomfield, NJ. This is an e-mail she sent me.

Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2001 22:57:31
From: Krys

In a physical sense, I got off easy with only muscle spasms in my neck from tension and extra asthma attacks. The mental health situation is an entirely different matter indeed. I saw it perfectly described in the newspaper as a state of hyper-vigilance from secondary traumatization. I know people who were late getting to work at the World Trade Center and lived and I know those that didn't.

Steve and I live a dozen miles from NYC and less than five miles from Newark Airport. After I came home early from work on Tuesday, we walked to a place a few blocks from our apartment where we used go to admire the view of the New York skyline. We saw the enormous cloud of smoke where the ex-WTC used to be. We didn't consciously accept the fact that all of those people were gone. It would be impossible for the psyche to bear.

We heard the overwhelming silence from the grounded flights. Living so close to the airport provided the constant roar day and night of large and small aircraft which sometimes seemed to come too close for my comfort. The absence of this noise was surreal. Then, we heard F-16's overheard. Now, the realization that it was a different world hit hard.

I lived and/or worked in the City in the 1980's even doing a stint at a record store on Liberty Street circa '85-'86. I took the PATH train from Newark to WTC every day then.

Tomorrow, I'm going to my brother's house for his birthday party. He lives in my hometown of Port Chester, NY and, since I don't drive, I need to take the same route I've taken since I moved to Jersey: take a bus through the Lincoln Tunnel to the Port Authority building, then take a cab or subway to Grand Central for a Metro North train. I've done it thousands of times. September 16th, 2001 will be beyond belief.

I'm not fearful of losing my life but rather of the emotional significance of being in Manhattan and what it holds for me. For the better part, I've retained my composure and avoided catatonic depression. I can't honestly say that I won't lose it when I disembark from the bus to make my way to the street but I'm going to keep on keeping on.

I'm grateful to my parents for the survival skills they passed on to me. They were each taken from their respective homes in Poland as teenagers during World War II to work as slave labor on German farms. They never saw their families or Poland again. They survived. I talked to my mom tonight and she spoke of harvesting pears from the garden for canning. And she made me laugh.

I'm also afraid of growing xenophobia and of threats against people like my co-workers and fellow bus passengers who are Muslims. Here in Northern New Jersey, there is a large population of immigrants from the Middle East, the Balkans, Asia etc. But there are also plenty of unenlightened people who want to bomb whatever the heck that geographical location is that they have no clue how to find on a map that might be causing trouble. Last night, during the candlelight vigils, I walked through my neighborhood and saw people communing in peace, teenagers unsure of what they were doing but knowing that it was required of them and people who rattled the metaphorical swords and spewed hate.

I am very afraid of comparative patriotism. "How big and how prominent is your flag." Perhaps I've seen too many science fictions films and read too many books by H. G. Wells, Doris Lessing and Ursula Le Guin and I am paranoid. Perhaps I'm not.

Now with every single jet that flies overhead, we both cringe with a visceral reaction that is painful and intense. It is involuntary. I hope it doesn't last.

Best Wishes and Peace,
Krystyna Olsiewicz
Bloomfield, NJ

Bonnie is a jolly soul who in her spare time runs the website dedicated to my good pal Neil Innes - the musical genius from the Bonzo Dog Band, Monty Python and the Rutles.

Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 00:59:29 -0700
From: bonnie

You know what's amazing, what you said isn't restricted to Z Magazine, they're saying it on CNN. CEOs are standing with everybody else in front of the cameras with flyers of their missing daughters and crying. We are talking about the sanctions in Iraq and the damage we do to these people. Now we understand the hell that THEY've been going through for decades.They can see the pain we're going through. People are being decent.

It seems to me that humankind has evolved.

Peace to you,

Bonnie

Jay Roach just sent me a wonderful report from Gotham Chopra - son of Deepak Chopra

Subject: thanks for the site, here's one from gotham chopra
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 13:52:29 EDT
From: Jay

hey, martin... great work putting that together... painful and fascinating reading...

here's another very good one just forwarded to me...

-j

My name is Gotham Chopra and I am Deepak's son. I work with Channel One News, an educational news broadcast that is seen in an estimated 12.5 thousand secondary schools, as a TV reporter.

On Tuesday September 11th 2001, at 8 am I boarded a flight in New York headed for Los Angeles. Shortly we rolled out onto the runway, lurched back, fired down the runway, and soared into the sky. It must have been almost 8:30 AM when I looked over my shoulder and gazed out at the New York skyline noting the clear view from Columbia University, my alma mater, all the way down to the World Trade Center. "What a beautiful day," I thought to myself. "I wish I wasn't leaving." I then closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

A little over 90 minutes later I awoke when the pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced in a calm voice, "we are making an emergency landing in Cincinnati because of an apparent terrorist attack in the New York Area. Please stay calm"

There was a nervous murmur throughout the cabin. The journalist in me demanded immediate information and I reached for the phone. I quickly ran my credit card through the phone, waited for the dial tone, and dialed our News Desk in Los Angeles. The phone cackled but when the other line picked up, there was no mistaking the panicked tone in one of my colleagues.

"Are you okay?" She asked. "I am." I asked for further information. "Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. They've come down. They've come down"

The phone cut off and went dead. I frantically redialed. No luck. I tried my sister in Los Angeles. No luck.

I slowly sat back in my chair and began to panic. I knew my father had flown out of New York on a different flight about an hour before me. I knew my mother was on a flight originating in London destined for San Diego. I tried to meditate and tell myself that everyone would be okay. Tears burned my eyes.

When we touched down twenty minutes later, the pilot instructed us not to turn on our cell phones. He gave us instructions to immediately evacuate the plane and follow the instructions of security personnel. We did.

Finally in the terminal, I reached for my phone and turned it on. There I stood huddled with hundreds of other interrupted passengers and gazed up at the television. The fresh images of two smoldering stumps - the remains of the towers of the world trade center - played on the screen. Finally I got in touch with my sister, Mallika, who was sobbing on the other end of the phone.

"I'm okay. where's papa? Where's mom?" Mallika supplied all of the answers everyone was safe. I placed my next call again to the office. I knew that there was work at hand. Sure enough, I already had a car reserved and was destined back for New York. At the rental agency, there was a great shortage of cars. People in line started shouting out their destinations and everyone began carpooling. I joined two other men from the New York area and we were off. Over the next 12 hours we listened closely to the radio as details of the terrorist attack emerged. Every five minutes the name of another family member or friend popped into my head and I dialed the number frantically. Most New York numbers werejammed or out of service. One friend I was able to contact informed me that he was unable to contact a mutual friend of ours. He worked in the 105th floor of one of the towers. He was scheduled to attend an 8:30 meeting. Someone from the meeting had called to say they had survived the initial attack and were waiting for a rescue team. No one had heard from any of them since.

Finally just after midnight we made it just to the edge of New York City, in Fort Lee New Jersey. There would be no crossing into Manhattan Island - all the bridges and tunnels had been sealed. I spent the night in New Jersey unable to sleep much and by 6 am, I was dressed and ready to get in. The only way to get across was via the commuter train which was offering limited services. As we pulled toward the station in Hoboken NJ, the trains slowed to a stop. There on the other side of the river they stood, like ashen smoking gravestones, the ruins of the twin towers. The train car was silent and as everyone stood hushed and gazed out the window. A young woman beside me began to whimper. Another man lowered his head into his hands and muffled his sobs.

Back in the city, people walked around in a daze. The streets were empty of cars but full of wandering pedestrians, walking directly down the middle of Broadway and Fifth Avenue. As we made our way downtown (I had already hooked up with a TV crew) we noticed small cafes open and people filling the outside sidewalk seats. People sat mostly in silence gazing upwards at the thick plume of white smoke still snaking its way westward. At west 4th street, a group of kids played basketball. At one point the ball rolled out of play. A young shirtless boy ran after the ball and bent down to pick it up. When he lifted his head he looked up at the air at the same thick trail of smoke. He shook his head and wiped away something from his eyes - either sweat or tears - and turned away.

Walking home, I stopped and talked to a police officer. After chatting a few minutes, the officer asked me if I would like to see ground zero. I agreed to stay just at the edge away from the workers. The pictures on television of the devastation caused by Tuesday's attack do the scene of the crime absolutely no justice. In real life it appears as if an asteroid has hit the lower part of Manhattan. There are charred, twisting slabs of metal and concrete in every direction. It is unfathomable, unspeakable, incomprehensible. The tragedy today is in its infancy. For the thousand who lost their lives, there are thousands more - friends and family - who will never sleep a restful night. There are parents, children, siblings, friends, and neighbors who walked out of their buildings one morning and have not returned. This is a national tragedy but also a very personal one.

On Wednesday night while in cab returning from work to my apartment, I noticed the Muslim name of my driver. He noticed the tone of my skin in the rear view mirror. He nodded at me. On the radio, the commentator was relaying a warning to all men of Middle Eastern and South Asian descent - to be wary of unwarranted violent reprisals from agitated residents of the city.

The taxi driver again looked at me through the mirror and smiled ironically, "We love America. It is our home." He shook his head, "but I think we're fucked."

* * * * *

About a month ago, I rode up with two colleagues to the Northwest Frontier region of Pakistan bordering Afghanistan. We were covering a story on Islamic militancy training grounds based in Pakistani religious schools.

In the west they have widely been reported to be ground zero for the grooming of young Muslim boys into hostile anti-western terrorists. In Pakistan, both the government and the men at the school hotly contested these claims, castigating the west for generating such racist propaganda. I traveled to this lost area with as little bias as possible - but with a certain and undeniable fear in my heart.

In the school itself, the chancellor was most kind and hospitable. He had us tour the grounds of the school, meet teachers and some of the boys - though at first we weren't allowed to talk to them. We were then escorted into his private residence. The first thing I noticed on the center table was a bowl of big yellow mangoes and a picture. The picture was of our host - an older Muslim Mullah wearing a traditional white turban and a stained orange beard and his friend - Osama Bin Laden, the number one man on the FBI's list of Most Wanted. I asked our host if we could interview him. He agreed but insisted first that we share mangoes with him. I agreed and he took out a long knife and proceeded to slice the fruit for me. We slurped and chatted for a while and finally were permitted to turn on the camera.

I asked the Mullah a wide array of questions. "Did he hate the US? Why is there such Anti-Americanism in this part of the world? Should Americans be afraid?"

He answered them all eloquently and without hostility. He talked about the history of the US and Afghanistan, how during the Cold War, they were allies, united fighting a war against the Soviets.

"You gave us weapons and trained our men. You built our roads, fed our people. Do you realize young man that your government helps to create and to fund the Taliban because it was their interest to use Guerilla warfare and terrorist tactics against the Russians? You made us your friend."

"But then your Cold War ended and you deserted us." At this point, there was a hint of animosity in his voice. " Because it was no longer in your selfish interest to have us as your allies, you abandoned us, left our people, hungry, and hateful. You turned your friends into foes because you used us like whores."

There was a silence between us.

Finally I asked him about the picture, about the nature of his relationship with Mr. Bin Laden.

"He's an old friend. And a good man."

I shook my head. "Is he a terrorist?"

"We don't call him that here." The Mullah made it clear he was not interested in talking any more. We shook hands. I thanked him for his hospitality.

On the way out I thought about that hospitality. I knew that the Mullah himself had endorsed a fatwa, or religious order, by Bin Laden several years ago urging Muslims to kill American civilians. But here was this man cutting mangoes for us and being very gracious.

"Today you are our guest. If we were not hospitable, we would be very ashamed. But in times of war, yes you would be an enemy and we may kill you. Today a friend, tomorrow, inshallah (God willing), there will not be one."

* * * * *

Today Friday September 14, 2001, four days since the terrorist attack, it appears we may be on the threshold of war. Our President has called it the First World War of the 21st century. I am not sure whom we will be fighting. I would like to go to my favorite cafe in the city - a small Egyptian place on the Lower East Side that I have been going to since college. The waiters - mostly young Middle Eastern guys who like to talk about basketball and soccer, who come and sit at your table and share a puff on the sweet tobacco hookas they serve there - they are my friends.

But I'm not sure when it will open again, if it will open again. There's a Mosque next door that has been closed since the attack.

The weeks and months and perhaps even years ahead promise to be complex and wary. Hopefully our leaders will be judicious, precise, and compassionate in the difficult decisions that lay ahead. But it is each of us that now must rise up and be the true warriors in this difficult time. Does that mean seizing weapons and braving the threat of death out on a battlefield?

Precisely not. Because the battlefield is invisible. The enemy is elusive. The web of evil too complex. Today there are no answers. It is too early for solutions for remedies. For now we each have our stories - where we were on the day that the twin towers toppled. Each one is dramatic; each one is tragic. From this day forward, everyday I shall observe a quiet remembrance for the victims of this calamity. Each one of us may choose our own way how to memorialize this moment but I believe we are all obligated to reflect for a moment, to care about our neighbor, to meditate for peace and tolerance because ultimately the only forces that can defeat such profound evil are compassion and hope.

I ask everyone on this board to join my father and me in prayer for the healing of our wounded civilization (if we can call it that). Let us pray every day to our Gods remembering, as my dad has taught me since childhood, that Christ was not a Christian, Mohammed was not a Mohammeden, Buddha was not a Buddhist, and Krishna was not a Hindu.

Love,

Gotham

Nathan Joseph was my second (and last) boss. I worked for him 1973-1977 after I had worked for my first boss and mentor - the late Derek Taylor. (I've been self-employed - a nice way of saying unemployed - ever since 1977.) Nathan is also the father of my godson Gideon Joseph - who now lives in New York City. My first two visits to New York - which ignited my undying passion for the city - were on business for Nat in 1974.

Nat has been reflecting on the feelings of invincibility and invulnerability that New York and America had felt - and it reminded him of a poem by Thomas Hardy addressing the similar feelings that the makers and champions of the Titanic must have felt. This is an interesting take from a perspective 3,000 miles and an entire ocean of social, political and historical culture away...

Subject: The Convergence of the Twain
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 17:05:58
From: Nathan Joseph

Thoughts on the demise of the World Trade Center, New York - 11th September 2001.

Think Hardy - the Titanic
"Convergence of the Twain"
Iceberg/ocean liner - World Trade Centre/plane
Think bodies unrecovered
Think hopes and dreams that died
Think innocent people murdered
But think as well of Pride

The Convergence of the Twain (lines on the loss of the Titanic)
by Thomas Hardy

In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity
And the Pride of Life that planned her
Stilly couches she

Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires
Cold currents thrid
And turn to rhythmic tidal lyres

Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls-grotesque
Slimed, dumb, indifferent.

Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles
Bleared and black and blind

Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this
Vaingloriousness down here?"

Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing
The Imminent Will that stirs
And urges everything

Prepared a sinister mate
For her - so gaily great -
A Shape of Ice
For the time far and dissociate

And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace,and hue
In shadowy silent distance
Grew the Iceberg too

Alien they seemed to be
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding
Of their later history

Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves
Of one august event

Till the Spinner of the Years
said "Now!" And each one hears
And consummation comes
And jars two hemispheres

Ken lives in Bloomington, Indiana. And plays a mean guitar. He has recently become an occasional accompanist for Neil Innes. As Ken himself says, he is a very quiet fellow - and normally listens while others speak. His e-mail is a very eloquent addition to these pages.

Subject: Re: Join the Peace Train...
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 17:13:14 EDT
From: Ken

It's good to get us communicating, especially those who were directly affected and others like Tamim who offer a very valuable perspective on things. I'm normally the silent observer, but reading everyone's emails moved me to put down a few thoughts too.

When I first saw the video footage from the World Trade Center, I nearly got sick to my stomach thinking about those who were killed. My heart sank, and I found myself thinking things like "there is no hope for the human race." However, I have been glued to the television for the last five days and the (almost) global show of support and empathy changed my attitude. I was reminded that most of the world's people cherish life, are compassionate, and realize how incredibly precious life is.

It is perhaps impossible to see past the dark cloud of horror, sadness, and anger, but I was glad to see this silver lining of humanity and community.

People like those behind the attacks on Tuesday who have complete disregard for life and devote their own little slice of life to hatred are the minority in this world. Those people behind the attacks are the ones that need to be identified and brought to justice, though justice is not really possible in my opinion. Even wiping them off the face of the Earth would not be justice, for their lives are of much less value to the world than those lives that they have shattered and taken away from us.

However we and the rest of the world decide to react, I hope it will be in a way that doesn't involve actions that will cause us to look back in shame. Specifically, killing innocent people who have nothing to do with any of this except that they happen to live in a country where the offenders are hiding. Maybe I'm ignorant to think that is possible, but it certainly can't be as ignorant as the "let's nuke them and send them back to the stone age" rhetoric that we've been hearing.

It is irresponsible and too easy to make a group of people the scapegoat. We've been stupid in the heat of the moment so many times before in doing so, though I didn't think anybody could possibly be as stupid as Mr. Falwell in this regard. It is sad, though not a surprise, to hear that the terrorist attacks are causing further indiscriminate attacks by our citizens on fellow citizens based solely on their heritage.

We must stick together and not let our anger turn us into that which we despise. Not just through this tragedy, but always.

Wally - my iconoclastic pal in San Francisco already wrote an e-mail (see Page One) decrying the sense of obligation to wear patriotic colors or light candles. Now he turns his attention to the mentality that Joseph Heller satirized in "Catch-22" - the possible return of the public loyalty oath. Be it mandated in words, deeds, flags or car honks...

Subject: "Honk if you love America,"
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 15:22:32 -0700
From: Brian Wallace

News report:

"At Bentley Avenue and the Boulevard, about a dozen people held signs saying things like, 'Honk if you love America' - inspiring countless drivers to blast their horns in support."

==========================

Although I know you understood its intent, I should have made my point clearer in my most recent email. Many people have different ways of expressing grief for the dead and love for their homeland. I respect their way and I hope they respect mine. But reactively sending out chain letters, via email, stating some directive, some "call-to-action" from a source-less person or organization is just too weird for me. Or the smug feeling someone would get by simply emailing the chain letter to 10 other people, as if now they've done THEIR part in healing the nation! DON'T BREAK THE CHAIN.

If someone were to approach me and say, "Why aren't you wearing red, white and blue? Didn't you get the email? We're all supposed to ...," I would go nuts. Phrases like "we're all supposed to" just drive me up the wall. Says who? I'm supposed to change my wardrobe and behavior based on a chain letter!?! Plus, why do I have to prove my patriotism (or sorrow for the dead) to co-workers and TOTAL strangers!?! Trust me, I'm not overjoyed that 5,000+ people died, regardless of their nationality. What about the foreigners that died on the jets or in the towers? Can I wave their countries' flags, too?

Support for George Bush's plan is up to the individual. If a person doesn't support his plan entirely or at all, they are no less "patriotic" than those that do. A truly "United America" still means (I hope) folks have the right to debate, doubt, disagree and show decent.

Gleefully breaking the chain,

Wally

In a previous lifetime Joanne Newfield was Brian Epstein's highly cherished personal assistant. For many years now, she has lived in Australia. Being a hemisphere away from the Americas provides no incubation from the horrors of recent events - as becomes clear from this note she sent to me and her other friends in the US and UK.

Subject: Love and Thoughts
Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 11:14:29
From: Joanne Newfield

Dear Friends

There are no words to describe my feelings about the terrible tragedy that has happened. Like everyone else - I am totally overwhelmed at the enormity of it all. I am saddened beyond belief at the senselessness of it all. My heart goes out to all those people who have lost their family and friends. And to the injured as well. Like the rest of the world all of us here in Australia are truly devastated. Our headlines read "The Day the World Changed" and chillingly we know its true. Things will never be the same again. All we can hope and pray for is that somehow out of this terrible mess we will be able to build a better world free from bigotry, hatred and fear. Its such a big ask....but we have to believe, hope and pray that its possible.

My thoughts are with all my dear friends in America and around the world

God bless you all
all my love
Joanne xxxx

The eloquent words of my pal Peter Shelton (see Page One) in his brief e-memoir "A hole in the sky" touched me deeply. And they have touched many others who have read them. Peter wrote to me again - firstly to offer support of the Peace Train pages. (Warning - you'll need a dictionary just for his first sentence!) And secondly to offer up an exquisite poem written by the English poet W.H. Auden.

It was written by Auden in New York on the evening of Friday 1st September 1939. That date means a lot to Europeans. It's the date that Hitler invaded Poland - and set in motion World War II. Chamberlain's declaration of war was still 36 hours away - but the lights were going out once more in Europe - just as they had in August 1914. And Auden sensed that none would see them lit again any time soon. He was of course correct. And the echoes of that September day 62 years ago still resonate today...

Subject: same place, other times
Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 08:56:13
From: peter shelton

martin -

great work. the solipsism of personal experience made universal - is this part of the undeniably stimulating frisson of these times of crisis?

keep it up - you are indeed a network for these days.

I am sure that you have already referenced the attached, so forgive me if you have - i heard it read quite movingly on the radio late wednesday night and its modernist impulse echoes quite powerfully sixty two years on [not least to an englishman in new york]

love

peter

September 1st 1939
by W. H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

From "Another Time" by W. H. Auden
Published by Random House.
© 1940 W. H. Auden
Renewed by The Estate of W. H. Auden
Used by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.
© 1997-2000 by The Academy of American Poets

Cleo Wilson runs the Playboy Foundation. She is a wonderful soul who is the very heart of Chicago. She once gave me a guided tour of the Windy City - which consisted of 30 minutes walking round the Marshall Field department store followed by three glorious hours noshing in great restaurants. I adore Cleo. And the quotation she sent me today is as spot-on for these times as the lady herself....

Subject: Join the Peace Train...
Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 11:32:26 -0500
From: Cleo Wilson

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars--must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation."

-Martin Luther King - 1963

The great British actor Stephen Fry needs no introduction from me. The message he passes on deserves your attention.

From: Stephen Fry
Sent: Saturday, September 15, 2001 5:12 PM

Dear All

I hope you are all well. I am, but this is news to me and it seems so unreal that I felt obliged to forward it. Please accept my apologies if you don't like to receive these mails, its only rarely that I will send them on.

On May 23rd 2001 the Taliban authorities in Afghanistan confirmed that all Hindus will be required to wear a strip of yellow cloth sewn onto a shirt pocket in order to identify themselves. They claim that the measure is for their "protection". The world has faced this before, in 1939 the world was required, at great cost, to rid itself of Hitler's tyranny, it is not hard to spot his child. Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to relive it.

The Taliban's record on respecting other religions gives great cause for concern that their ultimate aim, upon which they are intent, is "religious cleansing". They have already demonstrated their disdain and intolerance for other religions and traditions by the desecration and destruction of the ancient Buddhist statues, our collective heritage, within the Afghanistan.

Whatever your religion, or even if you have none, we hope that you will agree that this fundamentally wrong.

"All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing".

Sometimes an outsider or newcomer offers a perspective that shines a different light on our world. Amelia is a young Englishwoman who is a rising star in the New York advertising industry

Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 16:15:33
From: Amelia.

It seems strange that this time last week everything was so different, being a Londoner living in New York during all of this has been an eye-opener. The impact on all parts of society here is enormous - the local fire station on my street in Brooklyn lost men, a lot of our clients were down there and many are now using our offices and also even though I did not know anyone directly who was hurt there, I have many friends who have lost friends both in the WTC Towers or who were on the highjacked planes.

The heartening thing is that all New Yorkers are really pulling together to get through this. Went down to the West Side Highway to volunteer yesterday and literally they were turning people away as they had so many people who wanted to help. In the end we just joined the scores of people who were standing by the highway's edge clapping encouragement as trucks of rescue teams drove towards the WTC scene. Being close to downtown with the thick smoke clearly visible and still rising and exhausted-looking people leaving the scene covered in dust and rubble and holding blackened gas masks was fairly disturbing. A horrible contrast to the beautiful, warm Fall sunset.

Apart from the fact that there is just a huge cloud of smoke over Lower Manhattan, there are two new things that are really noticeable here - the first are the American flags everywhere and the second are the hundreds of Missing posters. There are literally flags everywhere - in peoples' windows, on shop fronts, flying from cars and trucks and little stars and stripes ribbons on peoples clothes and bags. There are also Missing posters up all over the City with grainy photographs of friends and family members who have not yet been found, candles placed by the posters on most sidewalks and messages on cards that people have made, it is heart-breaking. Union Square, usually full of skate-boarders and organic fruit and veg sellers, is now a silent shrine to the victims - unless you see it for yourself it is hard to imagine the sombre atmosphere there.

Anyway - Work today is very quiet today and advertising seems more trivial than usual, but it is nice to have something of a sense of routine and normality back into daily lives. I hope that this lasts.

My dear friend Sheri scribbled me a note. It's short and it aches like a heart breaking in two.

Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 14:18:57
From: Sheri

My heart feels so heavy, it's as if someone has attached heavy boots to it, and every breathe is more labored. In every cell of my body there is a premonition and it doesn't feel good. It's a feeling of dread that is attached to knowing that moving too fast will cause infinite pain to innocent people. I pray I am wrong. Love, Sheri

My friends have been sending other pals to this Peace Train. Which is just as it should be. Someone called Michael wrote me this e-mail. It's a toughie. He's an American - and he articulates a lot of sentiments which are being discussed openly in Europe - but are almost taboo here in the US. These opinions need to be aired and discussed.

Subject: In my opinion
Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 18:57:01
From: Michael M.

I hate to see all the "sabre rattling", that's going down right now, talk like that will only cause us to act rashly and without deliberation. It occurs to me that the Government is blaming everybody but itself. When you consider the fact that bin Laden was at one point not so long ago on the payroll of the C.I.A. then all of this might seem eerily familiar.

We have had many opportunities to negotiate a better understanding with the Arab world and the Islamic countries but instead we have employed the same old "Gun Boat Diplomacy", that alienates every Middle Eastern leader except for the ones in our "client states", like Israel, Saudia Arabia and Jordan. We have also been negligent in "the region", by conducting armed engagements that we don't pursue to their logical conclusion, so that our enemies recover quickly and strike at us again.

One might be correct in supposing that chemical attacks and more dead civilians on both sides may be the end result of our inadequate skills at engaging an enemy that doesn't fight on a predetermined battlefield in a conventional manner. These skills should have been learned and required after Viet Nam. Historically we are a relatively young country with somewhat adolescent solutions to very complex problems. And unfortunately George Bush doesn't strike me as any Winston Churchill - and his associates are precisely the same people who have orchestrated our inadequate responses for years to these same problems.

Strategic bombing a country like Afghanistan or Sudan is no more effective than carpet bombing, witness the lack of success of the Russians not so many years ago. Kabul has been bombed back into the "stone age", many times in its long history, since Alexander the Great and before. The people have remained fiercely proud and unashamedly militant. Historical perspective has been sadly lacking in our previous assessments of the "Arab question." Perhaps it is time to reflect on their opinion of us as well as our opinion of them.

Terry Jones wrote me a very nice note of appreciation and also directed me to a really excellent progressive website - zmag.org - which has writers articulating many thoughts which are almost heretical in the current jingoistic climate. Irrespective of where you stand on this issue - I recommend that you check it out. There's a link in Terry's letter.

Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 00:32:59
From: Terry Jones

Dear Martin,

Thanks a lot for your piece on the Terrorist attacks. It's a really good assessment of the situation and clearly set-out; Everyone should read it.

I thought you might be interested in some of the stuff I've been getting from my z-net commentaries: http://www.zmag.org

all the best

Terry

my reply to Terry...

Subject: Sub-urban cowboy
Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 13:28:34
From: Martin Lewis
To Terry Jones

Dear Terry

Thanks for your note of appreciation - and also for turning me on to the z commentaries. That stuff is very hard to find/hear in mainstream USA.

I do like living in this country - but it is so adolescent in terms of political maturity. Yesterday we had Bush talking about remembering from his childhood - wanted posters in the old West - which said "Wanted Dead or Alive" It's not clear whether he believes he was actually a child during the mid-1850's or whether he's remembering a music video for the Bon Jovi song of that name from the mid-1980's (When he was still in his "pre-40 years-old youthful indiscretions childhood"- his mea culpa for being a subsidized-by-daddy's-rich-pals drunk for 20 years)

I have nothing against the law enforcement artworks created in the era of Jesse James (nor indeed against the music created by Bon Jovi) but it's not a promising indication of careful calibration by Bush of the complex issues facing the world.

We have to be vocal - or we will find ourselves deep in a holy war from which there will be no extraction.

Interestingly today Bush's press spokesman said that Bush would not re-use the word "crusade" in respect of military action against Islamic countries. He hadn't meant to cause offense. Apparently he hadn't been thinking of the special connotations to Islamic countries of the word "crusade" when he used the word.

I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt on that one...

Yours on the frontline in Laurel Canyon

warmest regards

Martin

Robert Y. is a top documentary TV producer - and leading candidate for Playboy Of The West-WOOD World (and parts of Santa Monica)

Subject: Thoughts on the Tragedy
Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 10:37:18
From: ROBERT Y.

I keep waiting for the gigantic machine with the mammoth claws that will come in and clear up the rubble in one fell swoop, and perhaps uncover one or two lucky souls. We can build 110 story towers but the little earth movers that are trying to dig for survivors seem like toys. Where is the engineering and design that will advance the cause of rescue efforts? They seem so paltry.

I hear calls for our own commando units that can fight terrorists on their own terms, trained killers who can infiltrate their ranks and kill indiscriminately. We were doing this in this country with elite units called Green Berets for many years. Bleeding heart liberals (at the time of which I could be called one) thought this was inhumane and ethically immoral and called for disbandment. Now it seems this is the only way to combat this kind of terror.

Is is ethically right for us to train killers, assassinators, to accomplish military and/or political goals? Would we, could we, ourselves, ever commit these kinds of acts? How close do you have to be to the terror, to feel the hurt and justify the means to combat it?

We continue to examine our morals, our feelings, and even our willingness in working to help other peoples and build a better world...

Erik Hastings is an ABC radio producer in New York - he produces the the popular morning talk show on WABC Curtis & Kuby - which features Guardian Angel founder and right-wing icon Curtis Sliwa.

Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 05:06:12
From: Erik Hastings

Hey Martin,

Thank you so much for thinking of us. It has been quite a week here. I can't begin to describe the feeling of loss devastation and sorrow that has come over this city.

I was doing the morning show when it happened, I produced our coverage from 9am until 6pm (which, I might add, was fantastic coverage). I am very proud of my network and of my station for our commitment to detail and accurate reporting.

My heart goes out to the families and friends of those who are still missing and presumed lost for ever. This is a true test of faith for those who are spiritual. It is hard to imagine any God allowing this to happen. However, I do believe lives have been sacrificed for real change in our world.

Our President is preparing our Nation for War. This is hard for me to imagine, but their is a real uprising of patriotism in this country. No nation deserves what we are going through, but I am proud to be an American and I will stand by and support the decisions of our elected leaders.

Again, thank you for your concern and your support.

Sincerely,
Erik C. Hastings
Citizen of the Planet Earth

Sir George Martin is one of the wisest people I know. I was due to be seeing him in London this week. We had to postpone our get-together for obvious reasons. His very astute words should be pondered carefully by everyone.

Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 11:25:50
From: George Martin

Dear Martin,

Sorry you are unable to make it over just now; I fully understand. These are difficult times we live in. With all this Gung Ho rhetoric I wonder if anyone is thinking how many innocent lives may be at risk if there is a revengeful campaign of strikes again Afghanistan? As you know, we in Britain have suffered continual terrorist outrages - the Lockerbie bombing and countless IRA attacks (admittedly they pale in comparison with the dreadful destruction and carnage in America) but we have not threatened to go to war in Ireland or invade Libya. If the response is a blanket of violence it will lead to a Holy War - a World War - and that is something we all fear, whether we are Christian, Jew, Muslim or whatever race or creed.

Did not mean to get on my high horse - sorry!

Kindest regards,

George Martin

Dread Scott is one of America's leading progressive artists. I met him at a Creative Coalition event in New York a few months ago and was really impressed with his passion.

(Incidentally - the American right wing has succeeded in demonizing words such as "liberal" and "government" [the actual structure which elevates us from anarchy into a society] - can it be long before the word "progressive" becomes yet another dirty word? After all the progressive movement contributed to the development of workers' rights, women's rights, civil rights, gay rights - surely such things are worthy of the word being condemned by such fine purveyors of morality as Jerry Falwell, Pat "I concur" Robertson and self-appointed morality czar Bob Bennett? Whoops - a little off-topic there! Here's Dread's letter.)

Subject: OUR GRIEF IS NOT A CRY FOR WAR!
Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 10:54:13
From: Dread Scott

Friends:

A group of artists in New York, including some people in the Artists Network, have been meeting in the wake of the World Trade Center disaster. We agreed that the top priority is to put out a message as widely and as quickly and compellingly as possible-which opposes the moves to war and the attacks on the Arab people including in this country. To that end, we have come up with two sayings:

Our grief is not a cry for war!

ISLAM is not the enemy.
WAR is not the answer.
Break the cycle.
Pass it on . . .

They are available as PDF files in several formats, from 8 1/2 X 11" pages suitable for postering to smaller sizes suitable for printing out on stickers. You can download them from: http://www.freespeech.org/fsitv/html/stickers. Please print them out, get them up, and pass on the URL as widely as possible--right away. And if you want to connect with us, write at this email address. dreadscott@mindspring.com

Dread Scott

Michael Owen discovered that self-censorship has been introduced by a radio network to preserve national loyalty. It has given its 1150 stations a list of 150 songs that shouldn't be played!

Subject: Radio song list
Date: 18 Sep 2001 11:25:59
From: Michael Owen

You might be amused and dismayed the Clear Channel radio stations are pulling a very large number of songs off air due to their "questionable" content. Some are obvious but most demonstrate a very patronizing view of American radio audiences.

Michael was right. You have to see the list of proscribed songs to believe it. It ranges from "Stairway To Heaven" (which I didn't know anyone was even playing any more) and "Great Balls Of Fire" to "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and "Imagine" - the latter two being obviously subversive. The list is here The list of songs is featured here: http://www.f---edcompany.com/extras/clearchannel_email.cfm For some reason there are no Britny Spears or 'N Sync songs on the list.

Robin Mortimore is one of the founders - and is still the leader - of the legendary Portsmouth Sinfonia - one of the world's most distinctive orchestras. He and I experienced America and New York for the first time together (in 1974) an experience that forever binds us. He revisited New York last fall with his wife Hazel and daughter Gwen.

Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 16:32:57
From: Robin Mortimore

Dear Martin

We have all been in a state of shock and horror, like everyone else. Having digested the unbelievable the news and pictures, one tried to deal with the human stuff and then, and only then, think about what might what happens next. All proper thinking people would agree with your article, but it is the most complicated issue to face any government(s),and often politicians are not proper thinking. This goes to the root of Western society. Is the West really interested in the causes of Islam's hatred or just their oil?

I hope,if only, something positive could emerge - like a change in Israel (I dare not use the word peace)

Hazel, Gwen and I were standing on top of WTC in November and I am sure that anyone who has lived or even just visited the City feels it like a personal wound, and senses their own vulnerability.

a defining moment......

and to keep things in perspective the Monkees have cancelled their UK dates..("why didn't they do that 30 years ago" I hear you say)

Give Peace a Chance

Robin

Transcript of Martin Lewis interview about the tragedy on CNN on Sunday September 16th

Martin Lewis's current column about the tragedy - "Faith De-based Initiative"

Columns written by Martin Lewis for Time Magazine's website - Time.com

Martin's website: www.martinlewis.com

This page was created Saturday September 17th 2001