My Friend, the Author
My friend Sarah is kind of like my unofficial hero. Our friendship is different in that it really began to develop after we had both left a company we worked for. We were in different departments and our interaction was minimal while there. Yet I liked her as a colleague and found her to be more real and pleasant than the norm is found in New York offices. The days following September 11, 2001, Sarah and I, along with a small group of girls from the office, started to frequent a diner near our job. The diner is called the Big Apple diner. Not too clever of a name, but that is really what it’s called. Most of us were still numb from the events of the preceding days and tried to find comfort in simple things like idle chatter at lunchtime. On one of those lunch dates, we encountered a table at the diner of about four or five women in American Red Cross smocks. They looked exhausted as they sat there having lunch. Obviously, these good souls were volunteers at Ground Zero trying to take ...