Florida Jim
Florida Jim
September 15, 2001
Lest we forget
- Thread starter Florida Jim
- Start date
Peter Creasey
Peter Creasey
Jim, We had a similar difficult situation on the occasion of that fateful day.
We had, well in advance, planned a sizable and elaborate wine dinner at one of our top local restaurants for the evening of Tuesday, 9/11/2001.
The proprietor, a well admired operator and friend, had incurred extensive expense in preparing for our event, including for provisions and extra manpower.
We were moved to cancel and the restaurant personnel felt similarly, but all agreed it just would not have been fair to the restaurant.
We went forward with the event. Everyone, including the restaurant personnel, took strength from sharing our thoughts and feelings, albeit with a most solemn spirit.
. . . . . . Pete
Those were the days, when Camblor, Doghead, Connell and Scott/Munro were around, Coad actually wrote and '59 Vouvray was poured with reckless abandon.
What a welcome relief that dinner was, though I'll never forget the electrical burning smell all the way up on the Upper West Side from the fire that still raged downtown.
What a welcome relief that dinner was, though I'll never forget the electrical burning smell all the way up on the Upper West Side from the fire that still raged downtown.
Chris Coad
Chris Coad
Aw, yeah, that was quite a night. We were right to proceed, as I suspect we all knew right away.
I saved Kay Bixlers "New York Is Under Attack" thread from good ol' Wine therapy, and several others along the same lines from both therapy and Robin Garr's old board, and reread them every year on this day. The pain and sorrow always come right back, but the humanity and sanity does, too.
Many things failed on that day, but the internet was a great solace. The anguished condolences that poured in from our friends all over the globe was a great consolation when we felt afraid and alone.
Interestingly, rereading my own words from that day, it doesn't strike me as particularly coherent or smooth. I'm just kind of rambling. Which is, I guess, oddly reflective of the kind of autopilot a lot of us were on then. Just keep swimming, blah blah, word vomit.
Thanks, Jim.
I saved Kay Bixlers "New York Is Under Attack" thread from good ol' Wine therapy, and several others along the same lines from both therapy and Robin Garr's old board, and reread them every year on this day. The pain and sorrow always come right back, but the humanity and sanity does, too.
Many things failed on that day, but the internet was a great solace. The anguished condolences that poured in from our friends all over the globe was a great consolation when we felt afraid and alone.
Interestingly, rereading my own words from that day, it doesn't strike me as particularly coherent or smooth. I'm just kind of rambling. Which is, I guess, oddly reflective of the kind of autopilot a lot of us were on then. Just keep swimming, blah blah, word vomit.
Thanks, Jim.
Florida Jim
Florida Jim
'Worked pretty good in the other direction, too.
We, who were not there, needed to know.
Best, Jim
Oswaldo Costa
Oswaldo Costa
At the time I lived just a few blocks north of Chambers, and people I hadn't heard from in years were suddenly calling. At times I couldn't help suspecting an element of rubber necking.
Florida Jim
Florida Jim
I wouldn't doubt it.
But I suspect it came bundled with concern.
Best, Jim
Lou Kessler
Lou Kessler
We were in Quebec City on that morning and it took us two days to get in touch by the internet with someone in the NY wine group. It was a relief to find out that nobody we knew had been affected directly on that terrible morning. I can't remember who answered our general query? I believe it was Plotnicki?
David M. Bueker
David M. Bueker
Laura and I were staying in Glacier National Park on 9/11. We drove up to Banff, Alberta two days later to one of the most life-affirming hugs you can get from a friend (or a stranger). The proprietor of the B&B we were staying at (who had become a dear friend) had been calling our house & combing the net to see if we were on one of the flights. She had no idea if we were alive or dead, and was desperately worried.
Two nights later there was a candlelight vigil in Banff. We went, but could only stay for a few minutes - it was too much to bear.
We flew home 10 days later on a 777 with 19 people aboard.
Two nights later there was a candlelight vigil in Banff. We went, but could only stay for a few minutes - it was too much to bear.
We flew home 10 days later on a 777 with 19 people aboard.
A good friend of mine in the wine biz...his wife was on AA 11. I was just starting to find a new equilibrium when I found that out, and seeing him at tastings and events (which he didn't really stop going to for long) was difficult and a constant reminder. On the other hand, it was a little shocking that that was the only direct connection, given where I live.
Nine years later, what I remember more than the day is being in the Rhne a month later. I'd never been thanked for coming so often, by so many, and what in another time and place might have felt like customer service felt...well, real. Michel Troisgros just sat down at our table and chatted for a while. We talked about maple syrup (which was the point at which I realized we would never lack for gratitude if we brought cases of it to France), but that wasn't why he was sitting with us. I mean, it sounds weird to say that what I remember is Michel Troisgros sitting at our table during dinner, but I prefer that memory to the other candidates.
Meanwhile, as my sister-in-law posted to Facebook, this just never gets old.
Nine years later, what I remember more than the day is being in the Rhne a month later. I'd never been thanked for coming so often, by so many, and what in another time and place might have felt like customer service felt...well, real. Michel Troisgros just sat down at our table and chatted for a while. We talked about maple syrup (which was the point at which I realized we would never lack for gratitude if we brought cases of it to France), but that wasn't why he was sitting with us. I mean, it sounds weird to say that what I remember is Michel Troisgros sitting at our table during dinner, but I prefer that memory to the other candidates.
Meanwhile, as my sister-in-law posted to Facebook, this just never gets old.
Jeff Grossman
Jeff Grossman
I was home when the first plane struck. I didn't think much of it, so I went to vote -- primary election that day -- and got in the subway. I remained in that subway while the second plane struck and while the towers fell. They eventually let us out... as I rose to the street, a fine ash was falling on me. I took one look at the enormous dust cloud in the sky and immediately began to walk home.
On my way uptown I met various people heading downtown, all with their cameras out and clicking. I saw many people bent over car radios, listening to the news. They recalled for me a photograph from the 1940's of people listening to radios for news of Pearl Harbor.
Every pay phone had a long line waiting for it. Cel phones weren't working: the cells were overloaded. I got home and spoke to my loved ones.
On my way uptown I met various people heading downtown, all with their cameras out and clicking. I saw many people bent over car radios, listening to the news. They recalled for me a photograph from the 1940's of people listening to radios for news of Pearl Harbor.
Every pay phone had a long line waiting for it. Cel phones weren't working: the cells were overloaded. I got home and spoke to my loved ones.
It's interesting, going back to the WLDG archives and reading my travelogue about that trip, how the references just work themselves in, as if it's so natural and obvious that everyone's thinking about what I'm thinking about as I'm there, and as I write about it after the fact. Day 2, in Paris, features this in paragraph two: "Somewhat perversely, given current events, our next stop is the World War I exhibit."
And just a moment later: "If one needs proof that tourism is gasping for breath, walk the streets of Paris. There are Germans, as always, and some small groups from China and Japan. But even the usually indefatigable Brits are almost nowhere to be found, and Paris seems nearly devoid of other Americans. In a way, of course, its very sad, because one is forced to remember the reasons why it is so. On the other hand, the upside is obvious. Paris is, perhaps for the first time in many years, largely the domain of Parisians. The city 'gone native' is a facet of Paris we tourists dont usually get to see, primarily because there are just so damn many of us."
I can usually read things and be transported back to that moment -- it's a skill for which I'm thankful -- but reading this particular travelogue is...different. There's a resistance there. A barrier. I can't quite penetrate into the mindset of the writer, even though he is me. I don't misunderstand it, but it's still somewhat jarring to encounter it even now.
On the other hand, the above-referenced day is the day I met Claude Kolm. Over medium-aged Raveneau. And ate Camdeborde, without having to wait for months. Not, as these things go, so bad, in the grand scheme.
And just a moment later: "If one needs proof that tourism is gasping for breath, walk the streets of Paris. There are Germans, as always, and some small groups from China and Japan. But even the usually indefatigable Brits are almost nowhere to be found, and Paris seems nearly devoid of other Americans. In a way, of course, its very sad, because one is forced to remember the reasons why it is so. On the other hand, the upside is obvious. Paris is, perhaps for the first time in many years, largely the domain of Parisians. The city 'gone native' is a facet of Paris we tourists dont usually get to see, primarily because there are just so damn many of us."
I can usually read things and be transported back to that moment -- it's a skill for which I'm thankful -- but reading this particular travelogue is...different. There's a resistance there. A barrier. I can't quite penetrate into the mindset of the writer, even though he is me. I don't misunderstand it, but it's still somewhat jarring to encounter it even now.
On the other hand, the above-referenced day is the day I met Claude Kolm. Over medium-aged Raveneau. And ate Camdeborde, without having to wait for months. Not, as these things go, so bad, in the grand scheme.
Oswaldo Costa
Oswaldo Costa
I was having breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien on Grand Street when the second plane struck and it dawned on everyone that the first hadn't been a stray commuter plane, as first reported. I walked out and could see, from the distance, two or three floors of each of the towers on fire, and remember thinking "god, it's gonna take them forever to restore those floors."
Jeff Grossman
Jeff Grossman
That is fun.
That was basically the reaction of those of us out in the hinterlands, too. A friend had alerted us to watch the TV that morning after the first tower was hit, so we saw the live footage of the second, at which point I think that everyone realized "Hey! This isn't accidental!" The whole tableaux immediately took on a far more ominous cast and Jean reacted as if personally struck. What I can't forget is sitting in Windows on the World with Jean and some other friends celebrating my dissertation defense and realizing that it's all gone now. It's always the personal connections that stick with us.
Mark Lipton