Today I flew from San Diego back to San Francisco. I had wondered what it would be like flying on 9/11. On the fifth anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Center it is very much on everybody's minds.
Can you remember where you were when you heard what had happened?
I was on a mountaintop in Scotland, taking a walking holiday on my own. My (then) husband was in his office in midtown Manhattan.
The first I knew of the disaster was when I emerged from a mobile phone reception blackspot, in a valley, and my phone rang. It was my sister. 'Have you heard the news from New York?'
My immediate thought was of my husband. What had happened? Was he OK?
'A plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center,' she said. Phew, I thought, his office is far enough away from there to be safe. But how awful. The death toll must have been huge - the passengers plus the office workers. What a freaky accident.
Half an hour later, there was another phone call, from a friend. 'Thank heavens you're OK. I didn't know if you were in New York. Planes have crashed into both the Twin Towers.'
What???! One plane crash into a skyscraper could be a freak occurrence. But two?
I looked at my map. I was at the furthest point of my hike. I was about 4 hours walk from my hostel. I completed the rest of my hike at a brisk march, impatient to get to a TV to find out what was happening. My phone kept ringing with calls from anxious friends, wanting to know if my husband and I were both alright. I knew he probably was, but I was still relieved when I finally managed to get through to him and heard the sound of his voice.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Plane crashes, towers collapsing, people jumping. Physically I was tramping across the Scottish mountains, but mentally I was in Manhattan, in the city that I'd grown to love during the 18 months I'd lived there, wondering how my New York friends were coping.
When I got back to my hostel it scarcely seemed any more real. The images on the TV seemed like a Hollywood movie. I sat transfixed, unable to believe my eyes.
I felt pain, a pain for my friends, for New York, for America. It was like seeing a friend in distress, but being a continent away and unable to help. My heart, my mind, my being - I ached for New York.
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Well, not just yet, obviously, because he's dead. But how could you see a face like this, and not want to talk to its owner?
And how could you read quotations like this, and not want to meet the mind that spawned them?
"The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits.
Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity and I'm not sure about the former.
Men marry women with the hope they will never change. Women marry men with the hope they will change. Invariably they are both disappointed.
Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.
Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy.
Make everything as simple as possible, but not simpler.
With fame I become more and more stupid, which of course is a very common phenomenon.
It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer.
He who joyfully marches in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would suffice.
Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.
We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.
Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.
And my personal favourite:
Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.
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A special guest is writing my blog today - over to you, Geoff...
"I was born at a time when disabled people were kept out of sight. I got polio at the age of 2 and was expected to work in a sheltered workshop, if I worked at all, and be 'looked after'. My mother, and consequently myself, would have none of that and I went on to study physics at university, and live an independent life. I had a good job for many years and now run my own business.
I have always wanted to encourage and enable others to achieve their potential, and my skills as a physicist enable me to do that, but I only ever succeeded on an individual level.
I met Roz when her mother arranged for her to speak at our local church, and she made me realise that we can all do things on a much grander scale if we simply choose to do so. And I want to do more!
Maybe I have a role, not in promoting disabled people, but in changing attitudes to handicap and disability. Maybe I could point out that people look up to Roz thinking she is unique, and that compared to her, they feel that they can achieve very little, but as she said to me, anyone can do great things if they choose. The power is there within us all.
I like to remind people that everyone has things they can't do, everyone is handicapped to some extent, but it is more important what we choose to do than what we can't do. Yes, for some people, the choice is more restricted than others, but we all have a choice, we all have a role, and we all can do great things. We should never assume someone can't, however it looks.
Perhaps we should learn from my friend Nathan aged 8, who has cerebral palsy, and when his dad jumps in and does something for him on his computer, Nathan will delete it and then do it for himself. He is destined for great things!
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Recently I have given Roz two surprises in my emails to her.
First: I had been looking through old photograph albums, and found several pictures of my parents, my brother and myself in boats. I sent copies of these to Roz, and her response was "Wow! We must have these on my website." So there they are, in her Gallery, under the headings of Photo Album, Portraits, and then Family Photos.
Second:
She had asked me if she could spend a few days with me in early October, but I said that I would be away. Of course she wanted to know where I was going. My reply was the second surprise:
"Dear Rosalind,
Where am I going?
If you had not rowed the Atlantic . . .
I would not have heard of the capsize of American Fire . . .
I would not have heard of Stavros S Niarchos . . .
I would not have heard of its sister ship Prince William . . (Can a Prince be a sister?)
I would not have signed up as crew for the crossing from Portsmouth to St.Malo !!
I know it is for young people - they take them up to the age of 74.
Crazy, I know."
Then I was the one to get a surprise! While I was signing up to go on the sailing ship in early October, Roz was signing up for a sponsored event for the Tall Ships Education Academy in San Francisco (see the link on the right hand side of this page under Blog Sections) later in the month.
I wonder whether it is coincidence that I spent 105 days on a cruise ship in 2005 going around the world, and Roz spent 103 days in her little boat in 2006 crossing the Atlantic. Are we trying to outdo each other? Or is it just part of our genetic inheritance to seek adventures at sea? Do I blame my father for always having a boat of some sort? Or my great-grandfather who sailed from England to New Zealand in 1842 - returning again in 1843; he later took the family to South Africa in 1849 on the King William - and the rest is our family history.
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