Friday, September 11, 2009

September 11, good as any day to begin a blog

Welcome, benvinguda, foon ying, mawuya, selam, the inaugural edition of "All the Suz That's Fit to Print". There is an 80-87% chance that most of what's written here will, indeed, NOT be fit to print, but that's not going to stop me from writing...and it certainly should not stop you from reading! As you'll discover, I love exclamation points, old fashioned phrases, and pointless anecdotes. If you're lucky, there will be little to no editing along the way! Just kidding, for Pete's sake!!! See what I mean? I encourage you all to participate when, for example, I ask you to "Solve the riddle of the sphinx" or "Give me the winning lotto numbers for North Dakota's HOT LOTTO", but there's no need not participate to enter to win the weekly drawing for a free cruise!!! Unlike my brilliant predecessor in participation, Dan Fritz, there will be no bar graphs or stats at the end, but in the spirit of the great Babble-On publication, camaraderie and silliness abounds!

Now, as abruptly as a cable news channel changes camera angles to switch from a story about a little boy being trampled to death to a piece about deep-fried Oreos at the Texas State Fair, I will add a serious note. Today marks the 8th anniversary of 9/11. It's a bit strange to be sitting outside at a boutique coffee shop typing instead on in New York City to mark this day. The past two years I lived on Wall Street and was particularly close to events surrounding the day. Eight years ago, however, I saw it happen. Unfortunately, the journal entry I wrote that day lives in a basement in New Jersey with the rest of my stuff (thanks to Kim and Steve...saints for sure), so I have to go with my memory. I'll make it brief.

On September 11, 2001, I was up particularly early for a very special yoga class with the guru of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga (, Sri. K. Pattabhi Jois. I had actually already biked back to my apartment on 13th and Avenue B and was about to take a nap when my roommate's friend, visiting from Canada, came into the room to say that something bad was happening with the towers. Now, it was hippie-ville in this apartment. There was a radio, but no working TV to speak of (mine was in the corner and only played VHS tapes). I listened to the radio for a bit and didn't really understand if it was real or just a mistake, so the friend and I decided to set out on foot--or rather me on my bike and him on roller blades. We went further downtown to Chrystie Street and ended up at a friend's office on the roof. The first plane had already hit and the tower was in flames, but by the time we were staring awe-struck at the unbelievable sight before us, the second plane hit. We were all sickened at the idea that thousands of people must have been instantly killed, and the moments to follow made us afraid for what would inevitably happen next...surely this wasn't the end of this Apocalyptic moment...and then the Pentagon...and then, well, the aftermath of the reality that thousands had perished, but thousands less than I had thought.

It was my last semester at NYU and everything below 14th street shut down, so no that meant no school for the first week. Because I felt my lungs had nothing to lose at this point, I rode around the eerily quiet streets on that bike of mine, talking to people and looking at all the signs posted for missing family and friends. The most striking was at St. Vincent's Medical Center. I tried to give blood, but they didn't need any more blood at the hospitals. I volunteered at the Chelsea Piers, making sandwiches for rescue workers, but became discouraged when someone stole my phone and $20 from my wallet. It was a time of heightened...everything, yet I remember feeling more alive and connected to the "bigger picture" in life--just like one does when anything extreme (good or bad) happens. Like most of those events, however, that common spirit didn't last long. Some call it a "sign of normalcy", but I was still disappointed to encounter a typical New York attitude when I went to replace that stolen phone.

Well, I think that's it for the first edition...since I really need to go do something else for one, and it's getting long, for two.

Genius Quote of the day, from His Holiness the Dalai Lama:
"I think when tragic things happen, it is on the surface. It's like the ocean. On the surface a wave come, and sometimes the wave is very serious and strong. But it comes and goes, comes and goes, and underneath the ocean always remains calm."

Susan's Self-Quote of the Day, from Susan Myhr Fritz, formerly Susan Jean Myhr:
"Every single time I read a quote from the Dalai Lama, I picture Barbie in a saddle riding a llama...respectful? Not really. Funny? Yes!"


  1. I have always found it strange that on this day, 8 years ago, I was enjoying a very beautiful sunrise run with the morning light reflecting of the Marin headlines through the trees of Land's End Park over the entrance of the San Francisco Bay. It felt exceptionally peaceful that morning, so much that I clearly noted it. Meanwhile, during me run, peace was far from what was really happening.

    Two years later when visited the site all I could do as cry and think "shanti, shanti, shanti"

  2. Susan - I am so glad you started this blog. It's about time we get some SUZ!!! I have three things to say about your post: 1) I was at 57th and Broadway directing traffic; 2) bar graphs made me smile 3) thank you for sharing with us!

  3. I was in Dublin without a TV. Strange to be in a foreign country that literally shut down for two days as a mark of respect for the USA and the victims and survivors. I pounded the pavement for some food and found not a single store, retaurant, shop open in all of Dublin. Sure it could have been an excuse for a day off but to me, it was shocking how uniform and unequivocal the statement of support was. Moreso than even in the USA.

  4. You are A-W-E-S-O-M-E (said as if cheering at a Rustlers Basketball game)