Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource September 11 Digital Archive Emails Description An account of the resource This collection contains emails which were sent or received on or around September 11, 2001. As of this writing individuals have submitted more than 1,500 correspondences. September 11 Email September 11 Email: Body The basic content, as unstructured text; sometimes containing a signature block at the end. Well, everyone has their own story about today's tragic events. My story isn't personally horrifying, but I thought I'd share it anyway. For starters, thanks to those who have called or emailed inquiring as to Cathleen and my safety. We are fine. As for those who haven't called or emailed, we have long questioned your love for us and are now cutting you from our holiday card list. Shucks, not really. So, today started innocently enough. Woke up. Voted in the primary election. Took the subway up to the Bronx to work. When I arrived at my office, the security guard outside my office asked me if I had heard about the plane that had crashed into the World Trade Center. I had not, and quickly went upstairs to find out more information. But we don't have televisions at Bronx AIDS Services, our phones were down for the day (coincidence), and our pathetically slow internet server wasn't allowing me to access any websites. We listened to the radio and heard the terrible facts trickle in. My brother emailed me, and through him I was able to get out info to Cathleen and my mom that I was, indeed, in the Bronx and miles from danger. As luck would have it, the one place you want to be when terrorists strike is in the middle of urban blight, cause there's nothing there to strike. Sitting around in my office, hearing about each new attack, I became concerned that Cathleen might be at risk. We live a stone's throw from the Empire State Building, which seemed like another likely target. Given my limited access to news and my lack of phone contact, I permitted my mind to wander this way for a couple of minutes before relaxing. But then after listening to our not-so-quick legal secretary ask questions like "what's the pentagon?" and "why would they attack us? We're not at war with Iraq," I decided that it was time for me to go home. I knew that Manhattan had been sealed off, but I figured that if I could get close enough to a bridge, it was likely that I could walk across it and hoof it the rest of the way home. I walked a few blocks over to Bronx AIDS Services' other office and picked up my coworkers, Jen and Avalena, for the trip. At the other office, I managed to call Cathleen. She and her brother Sam were planning on heading up to the Citicorp building to give blood. Jen, Avalena and I tried for about 20 minutes to catch a bus, but they were few and far between, and those that came by were packed. So we finally hailed a livery cab and asked him to take us as close as possible to the Third Avenue Bridge. As we drove downtown through the Bronx, we passed by the Cross Bronx Expressway which, although never known for its free-flow, was at a complete standstill. Eighteen-wheelers had pulled off of the expressway and were lining the nearby streets with no place to go. We finally made it to 138th Street and Willis Avenue, at which point the streets were sealed off. We got out of the car and walked about four or five blocks to the Willis Avenue Bridge. By now, we could clearly see the pillar of smoke that was billowing up into the otherwise pristinely-clear sky. A steady stream of people were crossing the bridge, but in the opposite direction. They were all leaving Manhattan, and we were heading in. It felt weird, and stupid, to be walking against the flow of the mob. We entered Manhattan at 125th Street and walked down 1st Avenue. All of the sidewalks were crowded with people -- everywhere it seemed like 5th Avenue during Christmas. At the same time, the streets themselves were almost empty, save for the occasional emergency vehicle that would drive by. Every once in a while an air force jet fighter would fly by overhead, a sight we're not used to seeing in the big city. At 118th street I heard an elderly man exclaim to another, "you know whose fault this is? The Jews!" I was not really dressed for the long walk home. I chose the wrong day to wear black cotton pants, and I was trekking in my dress shoes. My feet were already a little tired and sore from a weekend of playing ultimate, and from my having spent two hours last night campaigning in Harlem for my friend Mark Levine (HC '91) who is running for City Council. Given the state of my feet, I was excited to see an operational bus at 97th Street and 2nd Avenue. We boarded the bus, but it was packed and Jen and I had to stand in the stairwell in the front (Avalena departed to head to the west side). We traveled in the bus for 30 blocks, but at each stop new people were cramming on and I literally felt that my physical well-being was being compromised, so we got off at 67th Street. Jen departed at 60th to cross the Queensborough Bridge, hoping to catch a bus in Queens home into Brooklyn, while I kept hiking downtown. After a more than three and a half mile walk, I finally made it home and began watching the horrifying images on television. We can lean out of our living room and see the pillar of smoke where the twin towers once stood. It is surreal. Cathleen was unable to give blood, as the lines were (to New York's credit) incredibly long. They were only taking blood from universal donors (O-neg), and they could only do 20 people in an hour. She was walking the dogs when disaster struck. She thought she heard an airplane roaring overhead, remarkably close by, but didn't think much more of it. When she returned to the apartment building, our doorman informed her that the World Trade Center had been hit. So we're hanging out now, watching the news with the rest of the world. Sirens continue to wail, at intervals, in the background. As I write this, 7 World Trade Center collapsed. It is no easier to relate to the tragedy here than it is to wherever you are now. Cathleen and I are pretty sure that we don't know anyone who works in the World Trade Center, except for our former landlord, Nori Ishikawa, and I am hoping that he is safe. until later, Rick September 11 Email: Date The local time and date when the message was written. 9/11/01 September 11 Email: To The email addresses, and optionally names of the message's recipients Many September 11 Email: From The email address, and optionally the name of the author. Rick Kahn September 11 Email: CC The email addresses of those who received the message addressed primarily to another. September 11 Email: Subject A brief summary of the topic of the message. Rick's Take Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource email617.xml 911DA Item Elements describing a September 11 Digital Archive item. Status The process status of this item. approved Consent Whether September 11 Digital Archive has permission to possess this item. full Posting Whether the contributor gave permission to post this item. yes Copyright Whether the contributor holds copyright to this item. yes Source The source of this item. born-digital Media Type The media type of this item. email Created by Author Whether the author created this item. unknown Described by Author Whether the description of this item was submitted by the author. yes Date Entered The date this item was entered into the archive. 2002-08-28 IP Address The IP address of the device used to submit the item. 66.108.220.135