September 14 2001...

I would not have had the heart to go through with attending the Nationals in Delaware had it not been an opportunity to see my parents as well. The WTC and the plume were visible from my backyard. My violin player was trapped south of Canal Street without much food, water, or friendship. Pain and fear everywhere.

On the way down Friday morning I had to go through the checkpoint at the Henry Hudson Bridge, the car being searched by officers with drawn weapons. Returning, the view of lower Manhattan from the NJ Turnpike.

And yet while in Delaware, it became unreal. In New York, we were gathering in synogogues, parks, wherever and people just couldn't stop crying. The first thing you established with everyone was thier "separation" - did they lose family? friend? friend of family? friend of friend?

Down in Delaware people went around thier business but with flags. A woman stood in a busy intersection the rain with a poster "Lights On For NY". And as much as I appreciated the thoughts, the atmosphere was so detached. What does turning my headlights on accomplish?

Anyway, on Sunday my beat up used car of a 1941 Plymouth was parked next to Ele Chesney's 1941 that is probably the best one in the world. Quite a contrast. She kindly let me take photo after photo to help me in my work. And she told me which brand and shade of nail polish does the best at putting the red striping back onto the chrome. So Gus has now made it as far south as Maryland.