A few years ago, well many years ago, in 2002 I visited my dear friend Robert.  Robert was born in Queens and is the standard for the New York personality.  We had not seen each other for a few years, and during that time, I had moved from Phoenix, to Los Angeles to Chicago and back again.  He had been working in the city, and had been jogging in Central Park on the morning of 9/11.  Life goes by so quickly.  When I first stepped off of the plane in LaGuardia, I had to find my way to the bus that would take me to Grand Central Station.  Robert was to be waiting there for me.  The bus took me across the Brooklyn Bridge, and with tears in my eyes I wondered just how life had been for those living in Manhattan, or visiting the city and hanging out in the rooms of the 5 star New York hotels on that day…a few years prior.

I saw Robert at Grand Central, he looking so dapper in his black wool trench coat, and I realized in one moment, how much I had missed his face.  And he was smiling.  And we took the subway, and as it was close to Christmas there were jazz bands playing at every station.  Christmas tunes.  Once we arrived at his flat on the Upper East side, we order pizza and had a bit of wine.  We took off for his local pub, had a few Guinness and then went back to his place to promptly fall to sleep.  The next day was a day that I will never forget.  We woke up, felt woozy after the wine, and the Guinness.  We had dinner at an incredible Italian place in SOHO, then got into a cab and said…”Cabbie, take us to Hell!”  Hell is a dance club located in the meat packing district.  Once we escaped from Hell, we went on to a small piano bar called Brandy’s.

Now, previously we had been by the site of the Twin Towers.  It was an empty construction site by that time, but the rod iron fence surrounding the cathedral across the street was still decorated by the shirts of the firemen from different U.S. cities that had participated in the rescue efforts on that day when my friend was jogging in Central Park.  And I thought about that.  I had been in Chicago that day, and watching the news and not able to get through on the telephone to Robert.  So, after wine and pasta, we end up at Brandy’s, a sing along joint.  Just as the band was packing up, I asked the singer if he would sing, “Danny Boy”.  I don’t know why that song popped into my head, but it did.  And even though he was ready to go, the singer said, yes.  And in one moment, the entire bar was singing along with tears streaming down their cheeks.  When all was said and done, Robert told me that that song is an anthem, for police and firemen in New York, and although the construction site was cleared, the shirts of those that risked their lives were still hanging on a fence.  The city never forgets.  New York, New York…the best city in the world.