From My Journal: Thursday, September 13, 2001
Late Afternoon
We are left with the uncertainty of how we’re going to get out of the city. Newark, LaGuardia, and JFK are locked down. There simply aren’t any flights out. There are no trains. No cars. Nothing.
Before we left for dinner, however, the producer (Jodi) called and said, “Good news! We’ve got a flight out for you in the morning!” We’d leave from Newark, very early. Dennis wanted to walk again, so we did. This time we found a fantastic shop open on Broadway whose owner was from Israel. He opened his New York Post to the page where bin Laden’s face glared back and said, “Do you know who this is? The devil. Do you know how to get rid of the evil in the world? Kill the devil.” The man waved his hands about in the air. There was a small cigarette clenched between the index and middle fingers of his right hand and I quietly prayed flying ashes burned none of us. “Ben Laden is the devil,” he reiterated. “We must get rid of the evil at the core. Bin Laden is that core.”
We agreed with him. We had to. The only way to get rid of evil is at the core. Truer word have hardly been spoken.
Thursday, September 13, 2001
Late Night
Dennis and I walked down to Times Square where the mood was greatly different from a few nights ago. There was silence and heaviness in the air, caused somewhat by the destruction of the Trade Towers and partly by the debris and ash floating in the air. American flags hang everywhere. Patriotism binds strangers. I may never again see these people who walk around me, but I am forever bound to them. Connected to them. Strange.
As we made our way back to the hotel, Dennis spotted a talented street artist. “Can you draw my wife?” he asked. The man said he could. I felt silly, but for the next forty minutes I sat still while the man drew me. When he was done, I was amazed. Yes, he certainly drew me well. “He spent a lot of time on your eyes,” Dennis said. Yes, that was obvious because my eyes were filled with sadness. I have seen things I never thought I’d see. Heard things I’d never thought I’d hear.
When we returned to the hotel, Dennis turned on the news. Newark had been shut down again, so I called Jodi. She said she would call me in the morning. We want to make certain we don’t leave and lose our room. We’ve already met so many who have checked out only to discover they have nowhere to go.
Friday, September 14, 2001
Early Morning
We were awakened in the middle of the night by a thunderstorm. Dennis jumped from the bed as I gasped and hit the floor. We both thought the city was being bombed. Frightening doesn’t begin to describe it.
I was right. Newark is shut down again. Or still. We’ve suggested to the producers that they try to get us to Albany by train. Our son can pick us up at the station there and tomorrow we can fly from Albany (now open) to Orlando (also open). We’re waiting now to hear. We’ll either do that or look into buying real estate. Because sometimes I think we’re never getting off this island.
Looking Back (2021)
I find it interesting the things I recorded and those I did not. The moments I remember versus those I don’t. For example, I do not remember going to the shop owned by the man from Israel (recorded), but I do remember that we attempted to film the Ananda Lewis Show on Thursday morning (not recorded, but which holds one of my best memories).
We arrived at the studio (picked up by limo, even though it was only a hop, skip, and jump from the hotel). Another show was being filmed when we got there. The studio audience was made up of King World Production staff, people off the street, and a few friends of the producers, etc. The woman who wrote the book about perfectionism was there and I met her. The couple I’d seen in the hotel lobby were also there (they were on our show) and we quickly bonded. In fact, they went with us to Times Square later that evening.
At some point I had to go to the restroom, so Jodi led me there. While in the stall, the door opened and, from beneath the bottom of the stall door, I saw a fantastic pair of boots walk in . . . all the way to the stall next to mine. “That’s a kickin’ pair of boots,” I said.
The boots shuffled and the voice on the other side of the stall said, “I can tell you where I got them if you’d like.”
I left the stall, then stepped over to the basin to wash my hands when Kickin’ Boots exited to do the same. “Well, I’m not from here,” I said.
We stood and talked for a few minutes about shoes and such when Jodi walked in to ask if I was ready. I said I was. She spoke to Kickin’ Boots for a sec. I said, “I was just telling her how much I like her boots.” For the next minute, the three of us spoke the international language of women: shoes . . . clothes . . . jewelry.
We left the restroom. Kickin’ Boots strolled to the right with a “See you in there” while Jodi and I turned to the left. I said, “She looks so familiar!”
“She should,” Jodi said. “That’s Carole King.”
We didn’t film the show. Jodi came into the Green Room a few minutes later to tell us that no one’s heart was in it. Perfectionism Author pitched a hissy fit right there. I was stunned. I mean, seriously? She stormed out and, after the door closed behind her, Jodi said “We probably won’t ever film this segment. I’m sorry.”
They never did. Stranger still. A show brought Dennis and me to NYC during the worst tragedy our soil has ever experienced at the hands of terrorists and then that show would never be.
Stranger still . . .