Changes and the Unchangeable

By September,  2001, I had been working at the World Financial Center for three years.  My daily commute consisted of a 40 minute subway ride,  a 10 minute walk through the complex of tunnels and underground malls of the World Trade Center, and  finally, a crossing of the skybridge  leading to the Winter Garden.  Despite the dozens of stores, restaurants and concessions along the route, like many commuters, I rarely looked closely at all the sites along this daily route.

I had long ago sampled the offerings of  each eatery and determined which were my favorites.  I was a regular.  The staff at my favorite breakfast stop always had my oatmeal (oatmeal, a spoonful of brown sugar, a sliced banana and a splash of heavy cream) prepared within two minutes of the arrival of my usual train.  I did not have to order.  I just walked to the counter and picked up a white paper bag with my name on it with a smile and a nod to person at the counter.  My path would then take me to one of three restaurants where I would put in my early lunch order.   Between the World  Trade Center, World Financial Center and the surrounding Financial District, tens of thousands of workers swarmed all of the food establishments in the area between 11:00am and 2:00pm.  My early order eliminated the need to wait on long lines at lunch time.

In many ways the workers at each of the establishments that I patronized grew to know me better than some family and friends.  They got to know my likes and dislikes (Earl Grey tea, instead of coffee).  They knew when I did not feel well (chicken soup days).  They knew when  my job was stressful (no time for lunch).  They knew when I started dating someone new (salad with dressing on the side).  Unfortunately, the connection was very one sided.  Although, I knew first names, exchanged small talk and holiday wishes, I never knew them  as well as they knew me.

The tragic events of September 11, 2001, unfolded directly outside my office window on the 52nd floor of the Two World Financial Center, approximately 500 feet from the World Trade Center.  As a New Yorker and an American, many things changed for me that day.  One small change has been my relationship with the people who consider me to be a regular patron.  In the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy, I spent a lot of time determining the fates of friends, colleagues and acquaintances who may have been in the area that morning.  I found myself with little information on the people who had served me with a genuine smile each day. I will never know what happened to some. I now make it a point to let those who call me a regular know how much I appreciate their work and to listen more closely to whatever they are willing to share about themselves. I hope that this is a lesson that others can learn more easily that I did.

Fortunately, many things did not change after 9/11.  Primarily, my love of this city which I call home.  On that day, the best of the city and its people was starkly displayed to me in ways large and small.  The character of New York was a comfort at that time of crisis, and continues to be today.