2002-06-17 3:25 p.m. It is an absolutely phenomenal day here in the Mid-Atlantic. The heat of last week is gone. The skies are as blue as they come, the temperature is in the mid70's (or "perfect" to use the proper meteorlogical terminology) and the clouds move by with just enough presence to suggest that all of us should take off to parts unknown. It is the type of day that should involve a hammock, some Buffet, and an ice-cold beer. It is, quite honestly, the type of day that makes me glad that I'm alive. Sure, I'm inside. Sure, I'm at work. I'm separated from the day by a quarter inch of tinted glass and a to-do list a mile long. I'll see more of this day on the news tonight than I'll have spent out in it in real live technicolor. Somehow, though, the fact that I can look out the window and see the day makes everything ok. The fact that I know it's gorgeous is what it truly satisfying. I don't know why, but lately my mind continues to return to that simple and profound fact. I am glad I'm alive. I've also been thinking alot about the 11th of late. Again, I don't know exactly why. But my thoughts, as diverse as they always are, tend to be related. I find myself reliving that awful day. Remembering what I was doing, remembering the stories from all my friends. I look up and discover that I've navigated my way onto the 11th-centric diaries of those of you I know and some I've never read before. It's not morbid fascination. Not at all. It's just that something deep inside of me needs to find all the sadness and the anger and the pain from that day. Find it and touch it and remind me that it's part of me and will always part of me and that just because I wasn't in NYC or at the Pentagon or falling through the sky toward a Pennsylvania field, doesn't mean I don't have the right to feel grateful. Grateful for being here at this very moment. I don't know what happened to our collective psyche that day, but i can tell you that it was deep and permanent and profound. It is the type of thing that we will never be able to describe to our grandchildren. Friday night, after work, I walked to the harbor to find some Father's Day presents at the big Barnes and Noble that occupies the middle part of the Power Plant. The summertime tourists were in full effect. They weren't just tourists, they were turboTourists. Naturally, as a die hard townie, I hate them all. They took too many pictures, were too damn happy, and just got in my way. A hour later and eighty bucks lighter I was on my way home. Nothing works up my appetite more than scowling at the undeserving and a good bookstore, so I stopped about halfway home to get a pitbeef sandwich. If anyone, ever, decides to give out awards for sammich making, I hereby nominate Ralph the pit beef guy. This thing had a mountain of beef and enough horseradish to choke a wooly mammoth. It was a beaut. Still annoyed and in a generally foul mood, I got my dinner from Ralph and headed home. About 5 minutes from my front door, I noticed what was clearly a homeless man come around the corner at the other end of the block and walk toward me. Silently cursing myself for making eye contact, I braced for what I was sure to be a whiskey-soaked request for "jus' a cupp-la bucks." I'd heard it a thousand times before. As he got closer and made it clear that he wanted a moment of my time I found myself angry at him for inconveniencing me. I suppose I thought the homeless should hide. 'Scuse me big man, c'nye axe a question? Sure. Whatever. (heeeeere it comes....) I know you're inna hurry and this is so goddam embarassing. But...uhhh.... Yeah? (these guys are soooo transparent...) Uhh... you wuddn't have a little extra to eat would'ja? S'just that I'm very hungry and dunno where to get anythink. Without a second thought, I handed him my sandwich. The man had no idea who I was or that I had my dinner in the brown paper bag by my hip. He just knew that he was hungry. And he asked me for help. The man smiled like he'd just learned the meaning to life. And maybe he had. Maybe we both had. At that exact instant, I think we were both glad to be alive, for two totally different reasons. As he walked away, I remembered something. Hey buddy! That thing's loaded up with the horseradish. I hope that's ok. Boy, you've just saved me. If it had cardboard on it, I wouldn't complain. Amen, brother. Amen. downtown----uptown leave me a note, fool!

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