President Bush has designated Friday, September 14th, as a day of mourning for those who perished in Tuesday's terrorist attacks. We hope you'll take a moment today to reflect on the events of the week and remember those who lost their lives so tragically. Beginning Saturday we will resume our normal site update schedule in an effort to do our small part: providing a brief diversion for those who desire it. We hope you will continue to use our forums as a place to discuss the news or express your non-political thoughts about events in the months to come. Although our participants are spread over a wide geographic area, we are a strong community nonetheless, and one you can depend on. Our thoughts and prayers are with all of you who were touched by this tragedy, and we hope, as you do, for more favorable winds in the future. Bly, Justin, Karisa, LaDonna, and Phil
- Status
- Not open for further replies.
D
dave
very nice
wonderfully written. thank you..... all "communities" of all types should bound together tighter than ever now in our national time of grief
wonderfully written. thank you..... all "communities" of all types should bound together tighter than ever now in our national time of grief
P
Paul Akers
T
Tim Schaaf
Support in Mexico
For what it is worth, much of Cabo San Lucas has ground to a halt over the past few days. The overwhelming sentiment of our friends here in Mexico has been horror and sympathy. Much local television has focused on the tragedy. Our streets have been almost deserted. Flights to and from the US have been, and still are, suspended, of course, so there are numerous tourists here who are chaffing to get back home. And, of course, I would imagine there has been another group who have had their inbound flights and visits cancelled. Hardly anyone has disembarked from the cruise liner in the bay....normally the town is over-run by hordes. I, myself, have had to postpone a trip home to the US for a week. But, we are all very fortunate to still be on this Earth, and although we are experiencing everything through the less passionate filter of the "tube", our hearts are with our friends and families up in the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave.
For what it is worth, much of Cabo San Lucas has ground to a halt over the past few days. The overwhelming sentiment of our friends here in Mexico has been horror and sympathy. Much local television has focused on the tragedy. Our streets have been almost deserted. Flights to and from the US have been, and still are, suspended, of course, so there are numerous tourists here who are chaffing to get back home. And, of course, I would imagine there has been another group who have had their inbound flights and visits cancelled. Hardly anyone has disembarked from the cruise liner in the bay....normally the town is over-run by hordes. I, myself, have had to postpone a trip home to the US for a week. But, we are all very fortunate to still be on this Earth, and although we are experiencing everything through the less passionate filter of the "tube", our hearts are with our friends and families up in the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave.
S
Scott Gurney
Sunset over a changed Manhattan
Greetings sailors: I want to share with you a daysail that I will not forget. The day was September 11, 2001. My work schedule is Wednesday - Sunday. At 9:00 on Tuesday, September 11 I was just waking up and making coffee at home on Long Island, New York. I live about 20 miles East of Manhattan, on the North Shore of Long Island. My wife, like many Long Islanders, commutes by train to Manhattan. She called me with anxiety in her voice and said things that my sleepy brain could not understand, something about an airplane hitting the twin towers and bombs and emergencies. She finally got impatient with my groggy responses, and said "TURN ON THE TELEVISION". She and her coworkers wanted information about what was happening. Like most Americans what I saw on the TV was unbelievable. I turned it on just in time to see the second airplane hit. This did not look like an accident. My wife was over ten blocks north of the World Trade Center, and was not in danger. We were, of course, concerned about the people that were in danger, and also anxious about how she would get home. After a few minutes of my relaying information to her and her office based on what I was seeing on TV, we decided that she would stay with a friend that lives way up north in Manhattan, and that we should get off the telephone so others could use the lines. I watched the evolving coverage as the towers collapsed, the Pentagon was hit, and there was the possibility of more attacks. After a few hours of this I got rather overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. I paced the house like a caged animal. There was nothing I could do, either to help my wife or deal with the terrorist attacks. The last thing I watched on TV was Mayor Guliani (for whom I had no great affection, but who rose to the occasion) telling people that if they were not actually involved with the response effort in Manhattan to stay away and go ahead and do whatever you were going to do today. To sit and be paralyzed was to hand the terrorists a victory. I had planned to go sailing. So I went. The wind was strong and unusually from the Northeast. The wind is usually from the South in the afternoon around here. There were few other boats on the water besides the clammers and oystermen. I took my 1966 19' Oday Mariner, the Dulcinea, out of Oyster Bay Harbor and into the Long Island Sound. I was making excellent speed, and without thinking about it headed West toward Manhattan. At some point I got the idea that I might be able to pick up my wife with the boat. This gave me a sense of purpose. This hopeful idea eroded under the reality of the distance to be traveled, that I had no way to contact my wife short of actually finding her, and that she would definitely get seasick on the journey home. When I heard on the radio that the water approaches to Manhattan were closed the idea was put to rest. I continued West through the afternoon while I listened to news accounts of the devestation on the radio. Around 6:00 I cleared Port Washington and had an unobstructed view of Manhattan. I had seen this view many times before, and it always has held interest for me. The South end of the island has always been domanated by the unreal-seeming mass of the twin towers. The sight that day was astonishing. The towers had been changed into a huge column of smoke that rose on a 45 degree angle South, then setted into a horizontal cloud that drifted off to sea. As the sun set behind the scene, it was at the same time beautiful and chilling. I anchored and watched the sunset and contemplated the changed skyline of this nation's greatest city. I wondered if people I knew were dead. Somehow the thought of all of those anonymous Americans dead in the wreakage seemed more sad to me than if I knew them all. Like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I cried a little. As the sun set I felt that I had witnessed something important. I felt like everything would be different from now on. I felt a strange feeling of relief that I had seen the scene with my own eyes. It was real. I raised anchor and headed home for what proved to be a wet and chilly upwind sail. I had some trouble finding the channel entrance in the dark, but eventually the sound of the gong buoy told me I was in the right place. I was suprised and relieved to find that when I got home at 11:00 my wife was sitting in the living room wondering where I had sailed off to. She had taken a train home at 4:30. It has been two weeks since that fateful day. I have noticed many more National Ensigns flying on boats and houses. People have been more courteous and friendly. There is a newfound affection for firefighters and police. I am not sure how this will all play out. War? National Depression? A Police State? I read a lot of World War II history. I used to believe that the people that lived then were somehow better, purer than my generation. I no longer belive that. If we face a national calmity on the scale of the war against facism we shall rise to occasion like our grandparents did. The simple pleasures of sailing by myself and enjoying the flight of birds and the changing hues of the sunset have somehow become sweeter since that day two weeks ago. -Scott Gurney
Greetings sailors: I want to share with you a daysail that I will not forget. The day was September 11, 2001. My work schedule is Wednesday - Sunday. At 9:00 on Tuesday, September 11 I was just waking up and making coffee at home on Long Island, New York. I live about 20 miles East of Manhattan, on the North Shore of Long Island. My wife, like many Long Islanders, commutes by train to Manhattan. She called me with anxiety in her voice and said things that my sleepy brain could not understand, something about an airplane hitting the twin towers and bombs and emergencies. She finally got impatient with my groggy responses, and said "TURN ON THE TELEVISION". She and her coworkers wanted information about what was happening. Like most Americans what I saw on the TV was unbelievable. I turned it on just in time to see the second airplane hit. This did not look like an accident. My wife was over ten blocks north of the World Trade Center, and was not in danger. We were, of course, concerned about the people that were in danger, and also anxious about how she would get home. After a few minutes of my relaying information to her and her office based on what I was seeing on TV, we decided that she would stay with a friend that lives way up north in Manhattan, and that we should get off the telephone so others could use the lines. I watched the evolving coverage as the towers collapsed, the Pentagon was hit, and there was the possibility of more attacks. After a few hours of this I got rather overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. I paced the house like a caged animal. There was nothing I could do, either to help my wife or deal with the terrorist attacks. The last thing I watched on TV was Mayor Guliani (for whom I had no great affection, but who rose to the occasion) telling people that if they were not actually involved with the response effort in Manhattan to stay away and go ahead and do whatever you were going to do today. To sit and be paralyzed was to hand the terrorists a victory. I had planned to go sailing. So I went. The wind was strong and unusually from the Northeast. The wind is usually from the South in the afternoon around here. There were few other boats on the water besides the clammers and oystermen. I took my 1966 19' Oday Mariner, the Dulcinea, out of Oyster Bay Harbor and into the Long Island Sound. I was making excellent speed, and without thinking about it headed West toward Manhattan. At some point I got the idea that I might be able to pick up my wife with the boat. This gave me a sense of purpose. This hopeful idea eroded under the reality of the distance to be traveled, that I had no way to contact my wife short of actually finding her, and that she would definitely get seasick on the journey home. When I heard on the radio that the water approaches to Manhattan were closed the idea was put to rest. I continued West through the afternoon while I listened to news accounts of the devestation on the radio. Around 6:00 I cleared Port Washington and had an unobstructed view of Manhattan. I had seen this view many times before, and it always has held interest for me. The South end of the island has always been domanated by the unreal-seeming mass of the twin towers. The sight that day was astonishing. The towers had been changed into a huge column of smoke that rose on a 45 degree angle South, then setted into a horizontal cloud that drifted off to sea. As the sun set behind the scene, it was at the same time beautiful and chilling. I anchored and watched the sunset and contemplated the changed skyline of this nation's greatest city. I wondered if people I knew were dead. Somehow the thought of all of those anonymous Americans dead in the wreakage seemed more sad to me than if I knew them all. Like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I cried a little. As the sun set I felt that I had witnessed something important. I felt like everything would be different from now on. I felt a strange feeling of relief that I had seen the scene with my own eyes. It was real. I raised anchor and headed home for what proved to be a wet and chilly upwind sail. I had some trouble finding the channel entrance in the dark, but eventually the sound of the gong buoy told me I was in the right place. I was suprised and relieved to find that when I got home at 11:00 my wife was sitting in the living room wondering where I had sailed off to. She had taken a train home at 4:30. It has been two weeks since that fateful day. I have noticed many more National Ensigns flying on boats and houses. People have been more courteous and friendly. There is a newfound affection for firefighters and police. I am not sure how this will all play out. War? National Depression? A Police State? I read a lot of World War II history. I used to believe that the people that lived then were somehow better, purer than my generation. I no longer belive that. If we face a national calmity on the scale of the war against facism we shall rise to occasion like our grandparents did. The simple pleasures of sailing by myself and enjoying the flight of birds and the changing hues of the sunset have somehow become sweeter since that day two weeks ago. -Scott Gurney
- Status
- Not open for further replies.