Crackpot Chronicles

My home town, my birthplace. You taught me the grit and the grandeur of life. You taught me passion. And what greatness really means.

Your streets, the aroma of pretzels and mustard, the brownstones and the skyscrapers, the art, the style, the street life, the pizza and the penthouses. And after the worst man-made hit in the history of this great nation, how you stood back up and showed the world that the soul of our magnificent city had a resilience and a spirit beyond compare.

I remember my first trip back when I was living abroad, in 2004, a year and a half into my almost four years in China, circling Manhattan at night over the glittering skyline, beckoning, welcoming, pirouetting, a beacon, a monument, and a homefire. And the words just fell from my mouth, "There it is, the crown jewel of the civilized world."

I remember my annual family Thanksgiving visit in November of 2001, walking from the Lower East Side where I was staying to ground zero and as I passed City Hall, you could still smell the smoke, as the angry crater smoldered in the aftermath. And when I got there, the stunning amazement at how unimaginably huge the attack site was. They were still digging out all the gold and negotiable securities, with the pieces of the fallen, from under the mangled ground. It broke my heart, New York. But it didn't break yours.

No, we don't have to get over it! We're over it. But we'll never forget, not you, not the bravery and shining pride, nor those who were lost on September 11th, 2001.