So, 2004, Right About Now ~ 9:15 P.M. Local ~ the Phone Rings

…and it’s the Mountain Man.

“So, what the fuck you gonna do?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The hurricane! What the fuck you gonna do?”

“Oh, we’re okay. It’s going to Biloxi.”

“No, it’s not. It’s headed right towards you.”

“WHAT? Where’d you hear that?! Ebola! Change the channel to John Ed!”

Oh, well…shit. All those freakin’ calculations about how far Biloxi was (131 miles), how far out the Cat 4 winds extended, how far out the hurricane winds extended, wasted. And I hear about it from Seattle! The next phone call was Bingster and NJSue…saying “good-bye” as upbeatedly as they could. How did everybody know but me? Just my luck, but it probably saved me a couple hours worth of fruitless worrying that I could do nothing about.

What to do when the house was already as cold as a meatlocker (in anticipation of power loss coupled with a closed house ~ not comfortable after even an hour or two with three adults), all the “valuables” were tripled wrapped in Hefty garbage bags and stuffed into the dishwasher, oven (both of which then had their doors locked) and the dryer (door duck-taped). Paintings, etc. were up on the beds in case we flooded. Both tubs were filled to the brim and covered with shower curtains to preclude evaporation, while every pot and pitcher was filled with tap water, as well as both sides of the kitchen sink and the washing machine. I had a spot cleared in the back hallway and ebola’s mattress staged in case the roof went and we had to get major dad someplace safe. (I remembered the ‘mattress as head cover’ trick from someone’s description of Andrew)

That’s part of my peace with these things ~ anal retentive preparation.

And nothing to do but wait.

Gulf Power kept us lit until about 10:30 or so ~ pretty damn admirable, considering how biblical it was when the power finally did poop out. The hand helds we were using between the Squid Terrorist and us crackled through the night with voices from the apartments near us, some folks using the same channel. Comforting at first and we’d just switch around them. But as the wind started to rise and the rock ‘n rollin’ began in earnest, it got pretty disconcerting. Because they were scared. Really scared. The roof had started to drip or the door’d flew open. One fellow we heard tore our hearts out.

“Help me. Please help me. Is there anybody out there?”

There was and we were, but all we could do was offer encouraging words. And change up the channels again, because we needed to know we’d conserved the batteries as best we could in case WE needed to let the other household know we were in big trouble. Not that they could have done anything, either, but they’d come looking for us in the morning.

It’s freakin’ grim. The roof is flexing in ways I’d never imagined and rain is being driven in the roof vents, so that there’s a teeny little snake of damp spreading its way across the center of the cathedral ceiling. The noise is deafening. Indescribably evil.

All I can do is wander from one part of the house to the other ~ checking ceilings for leaks, God knows what I’m looking for. I’ve got a little circuit I’m repeating over and over, but I’m always drawn back into our bathroom. There, in all the cacophony of the heavens gone mad, right above the linen closet…is emanating the teeniest, tiniest, most terrifying, barely audible squeak of all time.
“EE-yah. EE-yah.”
The rafters flexing and I fixated on it.

“Mom, will you sit DOWN?!” Ebola saved me with his crankiness. We settled in to listen to John Ed on the radio. You learn pretty cool things in a situation like that. For instance, someone called in (WHO still had a freakin’ operable phone?!?!) and asked about the old wisdom of “open a window to even the pressure”. No one had an answer that second, but, a couple minutes later, an engineer called in to insist one should NEVER EVER open that window. Apparently modern houses are built so “tight” that an opening ~ be it door, window, etc ~ allows all that pressure to flow into the house with no exit. Right up to where your roof blows like a giant Jiffy Pop bag.

Who knew?

By 1 a.m., 16 September, Ivan was roaring outside with everything he had. So I thought.

By 3 a.m., Ivan was making it abundantly clear that he’d just been warming up and I was pretty thankful the batteries were keeping the radio humming along, since we needed the distraction. You start thinking “couple more hours, couple more hours”, but you’re just faking yourself out, since no one really has a clue what the storm will do. It’s pretty much calling its own shots and you’re just there for the ride, if you’re foolish enough to be in the way.

Ebola and I had long ago shoved the 3 stacked coolers (with 60-80 lbs of ice per) against the front door, and were continually wringing out sodden beach towels from the wind driven seepage. You could call us “preoccupied” when the walkie talkie lit up, and it was the Squid Terrorist. It was mildly upsetting to hear the, um, “frantic” in his voice while the Furies shrieked and screamed overhead and all around.
He was in the process of hammering 2 X 4’s across his bowing front door, threatening to use the china cabinet when he ran out of that wood (“Not MY china cabinet, you don’t!” we heard in the background.). Because, he shouted:

“It sounds like the Devil’s trying to beat his way in!”

He was. He had certainly come to town.

Five Years Ago This Morning

…it was sheeting rain. Ebola’d finished helping get the Grinch’s house plywooded up, and they were on their way out of town. The Citgo on the corner actually had some gas, so I topped off while listening to a woman in an Expedition bitch that the hi-test was all gone. (I wanted to bitch that there wasn’t a single powdered donut to be found anywhere, but she was louder.)

The Squid Terrorist was through at the airport ~ all the planes had flown out the day before and they’d buttoned it down best as humanly possible. Plus, there were no powdered donuts at the airport either. No point in staying.

Time to just watch the news, double and triple check the little things you could…and wait.

While Ivan made his way to Biloxi.

Well…heh. That’s where they said he was going.

I Can’t Imagine Anything

…less motivating.

Biden in Iraq to Meet With U.S. Troops, Iraqi Leaders

But that’s just me.

Laissez…Leap?

…On Friday a 32-year-old employee became the latest victim when she leapt from the fifth-floor of a Paris office block. Her death came after a meeting to discuss the reorganisation of the customer services department, where she worked.

Two days earlier a 48-year-old technician in Troynes, to the east of Paris, stabbed himself during a meeting in which he was told his post would be scrapped.

OUCH! I’d normally say something snarky about “going postal”, but. Couple things make this different.

It’s the phone company…and it’s FRENCH…and 23 EMPLOYEES have killed themselves in the last 18 months!

And they’re just now wondering what the problem is.

A Not-So-Rosy Economic Indicator

Via HotAir here’s a report on one aspect of the economy that people forget about: shipping

Here, on a sleepy stretch of shoreline at the far end of Asia, is surely the biggest and most secretive gathering of ships in maritime history. Their numbers are equivalent to the entire British and American navies combined; their tonnage is far greater. Container ships, bulk carriers, oil tankers – all should be steaming fully laden between China, Britain, Europe and the US, stocking camera shops, PC Worlds and Argos depots ahead of the retail pandemonium of 2009. But their water has been stolen.

They are a powerful and tangible representation of the hurricanes that have been wrought by the global economic crisis; an iron curtain drawn along the coastline of the southern edge of Malaysia’s rural Johor state, 50 miles east of Singapore harbour.

I think there’s a lot of interesting information here, and an indication of how confident retailers are going forward…or rather how unconfident they are. I ship a lot of stuff, and it is getting hard to get space because the larger steamship companies have pulled so many vessels out of the rotations. It’s a mess.

“NObody Puts Baby in a Corner”

God, I love that man.

Semper Fi, Sheriff

And God bless you.

The Jefferson County sheriff has offered a stern response to a woman complaining she was inconvenienced by a procession accompanying a soldier’s casket.

The original email was sent to Sheriff Glenn Boyer on Thursday, August 27.

I tried to call you earlier this morning, but was unable to obtain your extension from the voice mail system as I was not sure of your first name or correct spelling of your last.

I was inadvertently in this procession as I was leaving work on 270 from Creve Coeur and proceeding on Hwy. 30 West. I have some issues and complaints. I called the Sheriff’s office last night, but the officer in charge would not speak with me. His name was Corp. Curtis. I am in no way complaining about your officers. I, however, was not treated very fairly when I called last evening because I wanted a ticket/complaint/or at least a slap on wrist for the people involved. Let me explain:
1) This procession should never have been held during rush hour traffic! Hwy. 270 is dangerous and people drive way too fast and there is too much traffic. This soldier’s certainly would not have want his family hurt on the interstate taking him to Cedar Hill. People were dead-stopping on the interstate even though the procession was in the far right lane, the other three lanes just stopped. There were many near accidents and possibly were after I drove through. I was in the 2nd to left lane, no way obstructing the funeral procession.
2) I exited off on Gravois (30 W), far right lane. Your police officers went in the left lane to stop any additional on-coming traffic so the procession could exit off 270 into the LEFT lane of 30. Again, I was in the right lane. The St. Louis County officer stopped and turned around at Weber Hill to return on 270 after the procession passed.
3) The road was not closed. (Only for president as far as I know.) Again, the road was not closed. Your officers only had the left lane blocked/closed for the funeral. All other traffic by MO law can proceed as long as they do not interfere (weave in and out )with funeral procession.
Let me say, that I did not know what was happening. I knew the did not have Kennedy coming to STL, at least not yesterday. I was at work all day. No news. Nothing reported on the traffic on the radio driving home.
Anyway, two of these dirty, nasty, renegade, who knows what motorcycle men that were escorting the procession proceeded to stop in front of me in the right lane on Gravois. I had to stop in the middle of an intersection. They proceeded to scream and yell at me about respecting this soldier, etc. One of them climbed off his motorcycle and came over to me and stuck his head in my car continuing to scream at me. I asked him what this was for and he told me I needed to stop as the officers had the road blocked and show some dang respect. #1, the road was not blocked, the funeral was in the other lane. #2, I am proud of our country and sorry for the family, but they had no idea where I was going or anything else. I could have a child at day-care, I could have been sick and racing to the bathroom, I could have a sick parent waiting for me, etc., etc.
#3, They are not law enforcement and had no right to stop in the lane on Gravois and they had no right to scream at me and intimidate and threaten me. If I would have had my pepper spray, I would have used it on this nasty man! He is just a big hoo ha that is not even related to this soldier. The other man did not get off his scooter, but was along side of my passenger window screaming.
I left an abusive husband 1 1/2 years ago and I did not need this intimidation. I was livid and shaking!!
My son is a deputy sheriff in another MO county. I respect police officers. It was not their fault as they were busy with traffic, but I called to make them aware of what was going on during this thing. The St. Louis County officer saw it but of course he was out of jurisdiction.
However, I called last night and your office asked me if I knew about this soldier. Again, I am sorry about him, but I am a taxpayer. I got a speeding ticket a few months ago and paid the fine. I do not deserve to be treated like this. I wanted to let the officer know how these men were acting. Also, they were driving into the turnarounds on Hwy. 30 and then back onto the road. the funeral was much further ahead. One of them nearly got hit by me and other people almost hit him and another as well. I wanted to lodge a complaint about them why they were still there, but no one in your office would take any information or do anything.
This was not a military funeral, even though it was a soldier. There were not military vehicles. It was a funeral and the road was not closed, the lane was closed, I was in the other lane and again, these nasty men had no right to do this and I would have liked them to get a ticket!
I am sorry for the soldier and his family but you cannot let these motorcycle renegades do this. They could have caused several accidents and I really wanted them arrested. If they had any respect for the soldier they would have dressed better and not looked and acted so scuzzy.

Thank you.

“Scuzzy”. Heh. So Sheriff Boyer wrote her back:

From:
Glenn Boyer/JEFFCO
Date: 08/31/2009 02:05 PM

Subject: Re: Fw: Re: Funeral Procession – Yesterday p.m.

——————————————————————————–

Dear XXXXX:

Yes, you do deserve a response and I am willing to give you one.

I would like to say that I am sorry for the inconvenience we caused you during the funeral procession of Sergeant 1st Class William B. Woods, but I cannot do so. I would ask instead that you take a moment of your time to take into consideration the scope of the event. Your very right to complain was the reason Sgt. Woods fought for his country and ultimately gave his life; thus making the ultimate sacrifice for you and your family.

Let me introduce you to him. After high school, Sergeant Woods entered the Marine Corps. After his contract was up, he joined the Army, where he became a Green Beret. He comes from a long line of military members in his family. His Uncle is a Vietnam Veteran and two of his grandfathers were World War II Veterans. His job in the Army was one of the most dangerous jobs – he was a sniper looking for the bad guys to stop before they killed or injured one of our soldiers. He has numerous decorations to include the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.

He grew up in Catawissa and was best known by his middle name, Brian. He enjoyed the outdoors, playing sports, and skydiving. He had a wife, Elizabeth, and two daughters, whom he loved dearly. He was a soft-spoken, level-headed young man who was proud to serve his country no matter what the risk. Now, I did not know him, but I wish I did. I am quoting from newspaper articles written about him.

At the young age of 31, he was shot during an engagement with Taliban forces in Ghanzi , Afghanistan . He died of his wounds in Germany on August 16, with his family by his side. He did not choose the time of his death, nor did he choose the time his remains would be brought back to his home in Catawissa. He just did his duty. He was quite a young man.

While you were being inconvenienced in your car on your way home, there were soldiers just like Sergeant Woods carrying 100+ pounds of equipment in 120 degree heat, up some mountain or in the middle of some desert. They will shower out of a helmet liner if they get the chance. They will eat a cold meal of MRE’s; something most people would consider garbage. They cannot text their family or friends, or go to McDonalds, or watch TV. They can only continue the mission and look out after the guy to the left and right of them. They don’t complain because they know they volunteered. The only thing they ask is that we do not forget the sacrifices they have made.

One of the dirty “big hoo ha” bikers, as you call them, was Brian’s uncle, a Vietnam Veteran, like myself. We were not treated with a homecoming. We were spit on and called baby killers by a misguided public. Brian’s uncle was giving him the respect that he, himself, never received when he came back and I, for one, am proud of him for doing so.

You say that your brother is a deputy in another Missouri county. I am sure he would be proud to escort the casket of a fallen solder, the same as he would that of a fallen officer. I am also sure he would not agree with your complaint about being inconvenienced.

My mother recently passed away. She was a World War II Veteran, serving the U.S. Army. She would say, maybe you should pick up Sergeant Woods’ ruck sack and carry on where he left off. Then you could see first hand what it really is to be inconvenienced.

Per your request, I will forward your complaint to the Prosecuting Attorney’s Office for his review. It is my personal opinion that your complaint is self-serving and without merit.

Sheriff Oliver “Glenn” Boyer

Helluva writer, that Sheriff.

Hoooooooooo Boy!

No Christmas card for you…you…DENIER !!!

…(2) Silencing Dissent: I believe the climate is always changing. But what percentage of that change is human-induced? Like most, I believe that a more balanced energy supply benefits us politically due to the reduced reliance on foreign sources and benefits us locally due to improved air quality. But several times during debates individuals have told me I should not question the “settled science” due to the moral imperative of “saving the planet”. As with a religious debate, I’m told that my disagreement means I do not “care enough” and even if correct, I should not question the science. This frightens me.

I can see the starving polar bears circling now…

If Only I’d Known ACORN Was There for Career Planning

I wouldn’t be working part time now ~ I’d be “free-lancing”. Sounds much easier than my current gig.

The scandal surrounding the left-wing activist organization ACORN has spread to New York, with employees at its Brooklyn office caught on video helping supposed ladies of the night get loans for their dream houses of ill repute.

…”Honesty is not going to get you the house,” a loan counselor at the offices told two activists posing as a mortgage-seeking pimp and prostitute.

…For tax and banking purposes, and to establish a legitimate income and credit history, Giles was told she needed to start saying she was a “freelancer.”

The Bestest Smartest Administration Evah

As part of his busy schedule of golfing every weekend and saving or creating 5 billion jobs in the first 200 days in office our Glorious Leader™ has hit upon a brilliant strategerical way to save or create 7,000 union jobs (not that His Policies can be influenced by such shallow means as vote-buying): start a trade war with the one country we desperately need to keep buying our debt

A full-blown trade row erupted between the US and China after Beijing accused Washington of “rampant protectionism” for imposing heavy duties on imported Chinese tyres and threatened action against imports of US poultry and vehicles.

Trade relations between two of the world’s biggest economies deteriorated after Barack Obama, US president, signed an order late on Friday to impose a new duty of 35 per cent on Chinese tyre imports on top of an existing 4 per cent tariff.

In his first big test on world trade since taking office in January, Mr Obama sided with America’s trade unions, which have complained that a “surge” in imports of Chinese-made tyres had caused 7,000 job losses among US factory workers.

Anyone know how to say “Smoot-Hawley” in Mandarin?

R2D2 After His Summer Vacation

(I lurves my smoker)

A Towel For Teresa

Although I see she’s taken down the graphic…

Daughter and I bought it in Red Bank.

2996: We Remember John Resta And Sylvia San Pio Resta

(originally published 9/11/06)
I’m putting this up early because I refuse to let the WWF trivialize the lives of my friends and my countrymen.

We all know the story of how they and so many others died on that day, but we must never forget how these wonderful people lived, either. John and Sylvia adored life, and they adored each other. They were so deeply in love and so happy together. Newsday tells the story of their engagement

Halloween, with its orange candy, spooky costumes and family fun, is not generally considered a romantic holiday. But since John Resta and Sylvia San Pio Resta met five years ago today at an office costume party, Halloween had always been about romance for them.
Two Halloweens ago, on the third anniversary of their meeting, John, 40, stayed home from work and rented a tuxedo. He bought flowers, lit candles and set the table with a stone crab dinner specially flown in from Sylvia’s favorite restaurant in Miami. When Sylvia, 27, got back to the couple’s Bayside apartment, he got down on his knees and proposed.

In August of 2000 they were married in Hazlet at the Catholic school that John had graduated from. Their reception was held at the Molly Pitcher Inn in Red Bank, which is far and away the nicest place for a wedding reception in the area. And boy did John and Sylvia have a great party: the weather was perfect, and from cocktails out on the deck overlooking the river to dinner and dancing inside every guest spent the evening laughing and basking in the glow of the newlyweds. We sat at a table with a mix of their family friends and business associates and just had a great time passing stories about the couple, which seems to be required at weddings. Sylvia had this habit of reading cookbooks on the train from cover to cover, as if they were mysteries, and we would kid her about it.

They both loved children, and

John’s 10 nieces and nephews in New Jersey adored the couple right back, said Mazzeo, of Hazlet, N.J. The Restas spent almost every other weekend in New Jersey, taking the kids out on outings, to movies and for pizza. Sylvia even played Pokémon cards with the smallest ones.

Sylvia also loved to play videos games, and to have an Aunt who’ll come over and play them with you surely ranks high atop any young boy’s list of dreams!
We had dinner with them in February of 2001 while they were out on one of these visits, and they brought a lovely colorforms-type art present for our daughter. It wasn’t a special occasion, but they knew just the right gift to bring that would keep an 8 year old occupied at the table in the nice italian restaurant that we ate in; that’s just a small example of how thoughtful they were. John and I spent the whole meal talking about families, and how much he loved having such a large extended family so near by, and how excited he was about his future with Sylvia. I noticed during the meal that Blondie (‘Blondie’ was my nickname for Sylvia. The first time I met her her hair was dyed blonde, so I always called her that, which in turn would confuse the bejeebus out of people when they finally met her as her natural brunette, which in turn led to a lot of laughter on our parts) wasn’t touching her wine, nor had she run out to have a cigarette. I asked her about this odd behavior the next day and she told me the wonderful news that she and John were expecting.
This news set off a crazy period in their lives, as it does in all of our lives. They were living in an apartment in Queens, and their first thought was that they needed to buy a house. With all of John’s family out in Monmouth County, NJ, that was where they concentrated their efforts. We all know how stressful home buying can be, let alone when expecting your first child, and I would talk to Sylvia every Monday and hear how the previous weekend’s searching had gone, and I would pass along any houses that I saw in our neighborhood onto them as well, because they were the kind of couple you would adore having near you.
As the frustration grew they reached a decision together which to my mind I’m so glad they did: they said the heck with it. They realized that a lot of kids spent their first few years in cramped apartments and turned out ok; family is what matters. As Sylvia’s family lived mostly in Spain the summer of 2001 would be their last chance to visit for quite awhile, so they flew to Spain to spend a few weeks visiting them. They had a wonderful trip.
John and Sylvia worked at Carr Futures; he was a project manager and she was a commodities broker, which is how I knew her. As our market closes around noon, she was able to schedule appointments at very convenient times. On September 11th she and John were going to visit her doctor that very afternoon, and she was one week away from going out on maternity leave.

They were so thrilled at having a boy, and they were going to name him Dylan. I would always kid her that she was condemning him to a life of whiskey drinking, and she would laugh and say that at least they’d get some good poetry out of him.
Carr Futures was on the 92nd floor of the North Tower.
Flight 11 hit the 94th floor.
From the New York Daily News, March 19th, 2002:

John’s older brother, Tom, says he finds what little solace he can in the very real possibility that John and Sylvia were together when they died.
“I think my feeling is they wouldn’t have wanted to die any other way,” Tom said. “They were always together. They were inseparable. Like my sister says, they were like a left and right shoe. I just can’t imagine what life would be like if one of them had lived.”
Tom doesn’t know for sure what happened next. As far as he knows, his brother and sister-in-law didn’t make any cell phone calls or write any E-mails after the plane hit. He has heard news reports that the impact of the crash filled the stairwells of the 91st and 92nd floors with rubble, but he also has heard secondhand stories that they were seen several floors lower, working their way down the stairs.
“I can imagine him trying to help her down the stairs, with smoke all around,” Tom said.
He thought for about a day and a half that Sylvia might have made it out after a reporter told him she had heard that a pregnant “Spanish” woman had been found alive.
“We had hope,” Tom said.
But that hope soon vanished. Philosopher’s wisdom In the grief- filled weeks and months since, Tom has thought a lot about something Emanuel Swedenborg, an 18th century philosopher and scientist, once wrote: “Those who are truly married on Earth are in heaven one angel.”
On Feb. 14, a police officer and a representative of the Monmouth County, N.J., coroner’s office came to the family’s house to relay news that John’s remains had been identified.
“From dental records,” Tom said.
“I think if John could have picked a day to be identified, it would have been Valentine’s Day,” he said. “He was a very romantic person. He believed in love and friendship.”
Sylvia is among the more than 2,000 people whose remains have not been identified. A few days ago, her mother was asked to provide more DNA samples.
So the family has decided to wait until she’s found. “We don’t want to bury him without her,” Tom said. “They did everything else together.”

Together forever, as they were meant to be.
We love you and miss you, and we will always remember you.

A special thanks to DCRoe for all the work done in honoring all of the victims.

They Can Get to the Heart

…of even the hardest soul (Tony Bourdain in Lebanon, anyone?).
I’m glad to see they got to his.

…I know it sounds corny, but it’s impossible not to want to do right by these Marines. To get the story right.

But I’m even gladder he chose to write and report about it. Thanks, Anderson.

Semper Fi, leathernecks!

A Word of Warning

NEVER.

Get between ebola and meat products.

Gmail’s SPAM Filter Just Caught the Following Email Solicitation

Viagra Soft Tab

Sort of antithetical, n’est pas?

If You’re Gonna Just Make Something up

…might oughta be a whopper, right? I mean, the beauty of the thing, who’s to say it ain’t so?

White House reports 1 million jobs saved, created

White House economists said Thursday the Obama administration’s recovery efforts have saved or created more than one million jobs so far…

…In its first report to Congress on the stimulus, the White House Council on Economic Advisers said the economy would have been far worse without the stimulus. The report was scheduled to be released Thursday afternoon.

Personally, I would have gone for a million five, but they are the experts in the “pullitoutyoass” department, so who am I to quibble?

September In NY

(originally published 9/7/2005)

Man, the weather is gorgeous here right now. There is no finer place on earth than New York City in early September: deep, cloudless sapphire blue skies smile down upon a city basking in warm, radiant sunshine, gently shining with a temperature in the mid-to-upper 70s and virtually no humidity, and there is always a slight breeze out of the west/northwest that bears just the barest hint of a chill; a teasing promise of the Fall to come that is so refreshing after the oppressive, moisture-laden air of July and August. You can always feel the carefree joy in the people when the weather’s like this. Oh sure, Summer is officially over, the kids are back in school and there’re only 113 shopping days left until Christmas, but this weather causes everyone to feel refreshed, to wear a smile, and to be beautiful. It’s a scientific fact: all women are beautiful in New York during the first half of September.

As I was opening up a bottle of wine for dinner tonight (I guess this is how those slanderous rumors began: let me amend that by saying “a bottle of wine to go with dinner) my bride (who is beautiful on non-September days, as well) summed it up perfectly by remarking “It’s September 11th weather.”

She’s exactly right. It was the most glorious day of the year: not a cloud, bright laughing sunshine that you could just taste and worship in but not so hot as to raise even the slightest hint of a sweat.. A dear friend from Brazil was in town, having just flown in from Oregon where he had dropped off his 15 year old son to spend a year in school in America on an exchange program.

I picked him up at his hotel at 7:30 or so and we caught the 7:55 ferry out of Highlands, which is tucked in behind Sandy Hook, bound for Manhattan. Gosh, did I mention it was a glorious day? We sat on the roof of the ferry, laughing and joking on the cell phone with friends in Brazil as we sped along at 35 knots, the breeze rippling across our clothes. As we neared going under the Verrazano Bridge my friend said “That plane is awfully low.”

And so indeed it was, crossing the mouth of the harbor from west to east at a slow, leisurely pace and turning up the East river. But then we saw another jet follow it a few minutes later and I thought, well, if there were two planes then the controllers must be routing them that way because of the wind. One can rationalize anything, at least then. And yes, I’ve seen all the diagrams and maps of how the various experts say the planes flew that day and none of them mention this, but that’s what I saw.

We got to my office on the very end of Maiden Lane around 8:45 or so. I started looking through my emails and the first one I always read was from my friend Sylvia San Pio, who was a coffee broker at Carr Futures. Her husband, John Resta, also worked at Carr. They had gotten married in August of 2000, and man did we have a blast at their wedding. Sylvia was seven months pregnant with their first child, a boy they were going to name Dylan. I would always kid her that she was condemning him to a life of whiskey drinking, and she would laugh and say that at least they’d get some good poetry out of him.

Carr Futures was on the 92nd floor of the North Tower.

Flight 11 hit the 94th floor.

A few minutes after the first plane hit word came out that a plane had crashed into the WTC. That’s all we heard. Since the weather was so perfect we knew it wasn’t an accident; I figured some guy in a Piper Cub had committed suicide, as none of the initial reports said ‘airliner’.

I remember when the Mets (yes, the Mets) won the World Series in 1986. I worked in an office on Lower Broadway at the time, so I got to see the ticker tape parade from our windows. And at that late date, as the computer era was just starting to take hold it was still ticker tape; that, and all those millions of tiny paper dots that that all the multitudinous Telex machines that were in every office had produced. Fine, fine particles of paper cascading slowly down, like the crystalline snow you get on a January day when the temperature is in the low teens.

As I looked out the window on September 11th I saw it snowing again.

Except this time instead of small paper bits it was entire sheets of paper, whole sheets of deals and agreements and lives fluttering about like the first fat flakes on a Fall day.

We turned on the small portable tv in the office and saw pictures of the smoke pouring out of the towers just a few block away. I had tried to call Sylvia but had gotten only a busy signal, which for some reason I took as a positive sign. Then the tv signal went blank, and we got word that a second plane had hit the South Tower. One of the oddities of that day is that the huge tv antenna was on the North Tower, but we only lost the signal when the South Tower was hit.

Anyhow, by this point the phone lines were a mess and the internet had gotten extremely overloaded, piggish and slow; the only way I was able to get any outside information (aside from the radio) was when I could get a line to Tree Hugging Sister in Pensacola, who would then tell me what the tv was saying. No one had any idea what was going on. Obviously, there had been multible hijackings, but whether it was 3 or 30 no one, least of all the media, knew. I truly want unedited transcripts of the broadcasts of, say, CNN and Newsradio88 from 8 am until, oh, 5 pm or so from that day. I think it is a critical piece of our history, to show the evolution from bliss to fear to resolve.

I leaned out my window and looked up Maiden Lane at the two beautiful smoking towers that had always seemed so strong and sure. The paper continued to flutter down.

I called my wife in her car and got a hold of her on the Garden State Parkway as she was driving to work. I said “Honey, don’t worry; I’m ok”. I could tell by the tone of her “Uh, ok, I’m glad” reply that she had no ideas what was going on (the KC and the Sunshine Band I heard blaring in the backround was another clue that I picked up upon). “Turn on the radio,” I said, “Planes have crashed into the World Trade Center.”

I really can’t recall when we started using the word “terrorist” that day, much as I can’t recall a day since when I haven’t used it, but it certainly gained prominence early on in the many reports, many of which were false, that were broadcast during the day of explosions and crashes about the country.

We sat in our office wondering what to do. Obviously no work was possible, as our market was in the WTC and had been evacuated. Thousands of people were milling about in the street below staring mutely at the glorious towers as they burned and belched out thick columns of black smoke and rained paper down upon everyone and everything.

What could we do? What should we do? As we nervously looked at the tall green skyscraper across the street we hadn’t a clue. How would we get home? Hell, would we get home? We had no idea.

And then I heard incredibly high pitched screams of terror from the street. I ran to the open window and looked up the street. I saw people sprinting frantically towards the river, running a desperate race to escape this huge roiling khaki-colored cloud that was bursting down the street between the Federal Reserve Castle and the Chase building. I shouted for everyone in the office to close the windows, and they did so just in time, for immediately the cloud enveloped us in its dark dusty shroud of fear. Where seconds before one could literally have seen for miles one could now not see a foot through a mantle barely illumined by a diffuse gray/green/khaki glow that eliminated all reference points. We were isolated. Alone.

The radio crackled that the South Tower had collapsed. Dear God. And just as the air was clearing it happened again as the North Tower fell. Shock and numbness doesn’t begin to describe how we were or whay we felt. We assumed that thousands were dead, and we saw thousands more shuffling about in the street, ash covered and heading ever north and east like so many souls on Judgement Day.

There seemed little point in leaving just then: where would we go? So we waited. Eventually the air cleared and we could see that the ferries were loading people for the trip back to the Highlands, so I grabbed a pack of coffee filters and handed them out to people to use as a mask (my only useful act of the day. Well, that and the many bottles of wine I opened that night at home).

I can’t say I’ve ever been sadder than on that ride home, retracing our happy path of the morning, only this time the brilliant blue sky was marred by an enormous black cloud that headed up and south east out over the harbor.

The usual crowd from the morning was missing many members, lost in the ruins, and they had been replaced by scores of people, many ash-covered from head to toe, all dazed and uncomprehending, who had gotten on the boat simply to get away.

My Brazilian friend ended up staying an extra week until he was able to get a flight back home.

With regard to Sylvia, John and Dylan…

all that was ever recovered were a few of John’s teeth.

The Speechiest Speechster’s Speech Of All Speeches

Did anyone actually watch this last night? I had stuff to do, but even if I were sitting home nestled in with a vial of fermented grape juice I doubt I would have. These things are incredibly boring Politburo-esque affairs, with all these choreographed standing ovations. Blech.

Anyhoo, so I’m wading through the transcript and I come upon this

Now, even if we provide these affordable options, there may be those, and especially the young and the healthy, who still want to take the risk and go without coverage. There may still be companies that refuse to do right by their workers by giving them coverage.

The problem is, such irresponsible behavior costs all the rest of us money. If there are affordable options and people still don’t sign up for health insurance, it means we pay for these people’s expensive emergency room visits.

What are the limits to a statement like that? Well…none, actually. especially when you have Obama saying this just a few days ago

In a newly-released interview with Men’s Health magazine, President Obama has said he is open to the idea of a tax on soda and other sugary drinks, which some have pointed to as a way to help pay for health care reform.

“I actually think it’s an idea that we should be exploring,” Obama said in the interview. “There’s no doubt that our kids drink way too much soda.”

“Every study that’s been done about obesity shows that there is as high a correlation between increased soda consumption and obesity as just about anything else,” he continued. “Obviously it’s not the only factor, but it is a major factor.”

The president went on to note that there is resistance in Congress to “sin taxes” such as this.

“People’s attitude is that they don’t necessarily want Big Brother telling them what to eat or drink, and I understand that,” he said. “It is true, though, that if you wanted to make a big impact on people’s health in this country, reducing things like soda consumption would be helpful.”

So it seems to me that if you think that the government is going to get very intrusive in your life for “society’s good” you’re not being some type of whack-o alarmist but actually taking them at their word.

Now, as a final thought, can someone please find a way to rectify these three statements from the speech…

1

Despite all this, the insurance companies and their allies don’t like this idea. They argue that these private companies can’t fairly compete with the government, and they’d be right if taxpayers were subsidizing this public insurance option, but they won’t be. I’ve insisted that, like any private insurance company, the public insurance option would have to be self-sufficient and rely on the premiums its collects.

But by avoiding some of the overhead that gets eaten up at private companies by profits and excessive administrative costs and executive salaries, it could provide a good deal for consumers and would also keep pressure on private insurers to keep their policies affordable and treat their customers better, the same way public colleges and universities provide additional choice and competition to students without in any way inhibiting a vibrant system of private colleges and universities.

2

…we’ve estimated that most of this plan can be paid for by finding savings within the existing health care system, a system that is currently full of waste and abuse.

3

The only thing this plan would eliminate is the hundreds of billions of dollars in waste and fraud, as well as unwarranted subsidies in Medicare that go to insurance companies…

… subsidies that do everything to pad their profits, but don’t improve the care of seniors.

…because I sure can’t.

Under his plan a government-run “company” will be more efficient and a better deal for consumers than private insurance companies because it will cut out the “hundreds of billions of dollars of waste”…in the current government run Medicare program? A new government agency will “avoid excess overhead”?

It’s a good thing I didn’t watch, or I might have jumped up and yelled “Liar!” at the tv…

Quote of the Day

5:59PM Mr. President, A suggestion — don’t use “Kennedy” and “drive” in the same sentence. Just sayin’.

Swine Floozy

Hot off the press from Jules Crittenden we learn that this sort of scandalous behavior

is now a public health menace and is already getting banned in France!

To the barricades comrades!

Liberte!

Egalite!

La Bise!!

Messiah Makes Manhattan

Oh lucky lucky us. Late September is always a bit of a pain for those who work in NY, as the opening of the UN General Ass-embly means lots of oh-so-impotent important muckity-mucks coming to town in their motorcades, blocking off streets and generally just clogging up the whole place. And this year, as an added bonus,the One is coming to be President of the World

Barack Obama will cement the new co-operative relationship between the US and the United Nations this month when he becomes the first American president to chair its 15-member Security Council.

The topic for the summit-level session of the council on September 24 is nuclear non-proliferation and nuclear disarmament – one of several global challenges that the US now wants to see addressed at a multinational level.

We’ve always wanted these addressed at a “multinational level” but by this we meant actually doing something.

Mr Obama will join other heads of government in New York during the week of the nuclear summit for the opening of the 64th session of the UN General Assembly. The annual meeting of world leaders is this year raising expectations on a number of fronts.

UN officials hope a climate change debate on September 22 will give fresh impetus to the search for a global climate deal at Copenhagen in December.

I.E. the UN officials want to be given lots of funding and power.

There are also hopes a possible meeting between Benjamin Netanyahu, Israeli prime minister, and Mahmoud Abbas, Palestinian Authority president, that Mr Obama would host, could lead to a breakthrough about a timetable for Middle East peace.

I had hopes about winning Mega-Millions; better odds.

Heads of state are also likely to consider how to deal with Iran’s nuclear ambitions. Mr Obama gave Tehran a September deadline to reply to his offer of negotiations. Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadi-nejad will attend the General Assembly “to encourage Iranian views in managing the world,” an aide said.

Here’s how a suggestion on how we may have to “deal” with them:

You know damn well that’s how they will “deal” with Israel if they get the chance.

But here’s the most worrisome development for our current Administration:

US officials are concerned Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi might try to steal the limelight during his first visit to New York.

Such impertinence must not be allowed to stand.

It’s The Return Of Captain Pablum

Given the ire it evoked, am I alone in thinking there was a major re-write before they released this text?

WASHINGTON (CNN) — The White House released the text Monday of a controversial back-to-school speech to students from President Obama.

Many conservatives have expressed a fear that the address would be used to push a partisan political agenda. In the text of the speech, however, Obama avoids any mention of controversial political initiatives. He repeatedly urges students to work hard and stay in school.

“No matter what you want to do with your life, I guarantee that you’ll need an education to do it,” he says.

“This isn’t just important for your own life and your own future. What you make of your education will decide nothing less than the future of this country.”

The text of the 18-minute speech was posted on the White House Web site so people can read it before its scheduled Internet broadcast to schoolchildren Tuesday.

I really wish he would stop giving speeches and start doing something really wild and crazy…like, say, nominating people for all the job openings at Treasury and State.

Actually, on second thought, keep giving speeches, Barry!

Hey ROB!!!!!

Football’s on.

How ’bout them Irish!?!?!?!
(I’d say something about UVA for Bingley…normally…but…)
::scrapes foot on the ground in ABJECT embarrassment::
(…they lost to William and MARY? Mortification personified. There’s always next year.)

How’s That “Created Or Saved” Stuff Work Again?

Hey, at least it’s not a 27 year high!

WASHINGTON (Reuters) – U.S. employers cut a fewer-than-expected 216,000 jobs in August, while the unemployment rate rose to a 26-year high, the government said on Friday in a report showing a still fragile labor market.

The Labor Department said the unemployment rate rose to 9.7 percent after dipping to 9.4 percent in July and the decline in payrolls was the smallest in a year. The department revised job losses for June and July to show 49,000 more jobs lost than previously reported.

Analysts had expected non-farm payrolls to drop 225,000 in August and the unemployment rate to rise to 9.5 percent.

Woo-Hoo! Go Stimulus!