Thanks Ken. What a great irony. I hate thinking about tomorrow. One of my
site visits is to the preschool on Mt. Prospect Avenue where the children
saw the planes hit. I've been so happy since we moved out of earshot of the
airport in Newark. Today's weather was like that morning--crisp and clear
and gorgeous. It felt like 9/11 today and driving on the turnpike past the
airport and the lanes of planes landing, it felt unsettling.
We don't have anything planned at work like the "ritual" last year. I have
three social work interns beginning their placment. I've been thinking
about John Tierney, a probie firefighter who died and Sean and Helen his
parents in Staten Island.
I've enjoyed the snaps this week as well--like links in a chain that
feeling connecting and strong.
Deborah
in NJ
www.nunwhizdom.com
www. mp3.com/nunwizdom
> [Original Message]
> From: Kenneth Wolman <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Date: 9/10/2003 8:55:20 PM
> Subject: Snapshot: Strangers on a Train
>
> Strangers on a Train
>
> There was a very appealing
> woman in her 40's who rode
> the Hoboken train with me each morning.
> She'd get on in Middletown,
> get off at Newark, presumably
> heading to lower Manhattan.
> She wore blue-tinted glasses
> and had long blond hair.
> I did not know her name.
> Our only conversations were
> "Excuse me" and "Of course"
> when she tried to sit down
> across from me now and then,
> sometimes rub my knee perhaps
> by accident.
>
> Then she disappeared.
> When I went back to work on Monday
> after that horrid Tuesday morning,
> she was not on the 6:51.
> Never again.
> I did not know her,
> I do not miss her,
> But at this moment
> I grieve her.
>
> There was a dour-looking man,
> tall and heavy-set, who always wore
> the same distressed leather shoes
> and carried a ratty briefcase.
> I disliked him because he looked
> like my girlfriend's ex-husband.
>
> Then he disappeared.
> When I went back to work on Monday
> after that horrid Tuesday morning,
> he was not on the 6:51.
>
> Three weeks after that morning
> when I stared up like a turkey
> at the rain of Hell,
> I missed my train
> and took a later one.
> There he was on the platform,
> the ex-husband lookalike,
> chainsmoking and seeming unpleasant.
> And I was filled with utter joy.
>
> KTW/9-10-03
>
> -------------------------
> Kenneth
> Wolman http://www.kenwolman.com
> http://kenwolman.blogspot.com
> "Sometimes the veil between human intelligence and animal intelligence
> wears very thin--then one experiences the supreme thrill of keeping a cat,
> or perhaps allowing oneself to be owned by a cat."--Catherine Manley
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