The 6:54AM from Greystone

When I am in New York, I am dutifully on this Metro North edition of the morning commute every day. I get on, rip through the Daily News, and, usually by Spuyten Duvill, I have dozed off anew.


But, that's harder to do in the cell phone age. You hear one-sided conversation after another. And they are seemingly pointless.

"I'm on the train."

"What are you doing now?"

"What time are you leaving for work?"

"I'll call you when I get to the office."

"Call me when you get to your office."

Now, how boring is that? I mean, let's face it, you called me on the train, so where the hell did you think I was? On Mr. Toad's Wild Ride in Disneyland??!!

In my smugness, I always chalk this to society's bizarre need to have more information than you ever need...and to be constantly in touch with somebody at any given time.

But, it has dawned on me. This is post 9/11 New York. Some of these people on the Metro North train might actually want to be connected because, at one time in the short past, they were temporarily disconnected. Or perhaps even permanently cut off.

I was in Los Angeles on that day. Oh, I saw and felt it all. I remember listening to Howard Stern, of all people, describe the collapse of the first tower. I drove to work, not trusting the rest of senior management to counsel worried colleagues. I was right. They did not. And I walked from office to office, sending people to a TV or home. I saw the rifles aimed haphazardly to the sky in front of the Federal Building on Wilshire Boulevard. They were looking for something...or anything. I recall Wilshire Boulevard at 6PM on a Tuesday night. Usually jammed with SUVs, you could shoot a cannonball down the block and not hit anything. The only place open for dinner was Nate N Al's, a Jewish deli which was packed because some folks won't be denied their brisket. The most surreal moment for me was seeing Rodney Dangerfield in the next booth---in his pajamas and with a fatal case of bedhead.

So, I felt it all because I was an American.

But, on that day, I was not a New Yorker.

And now I know why I hear those cell phones ring incessantly on the 6:54AM from Greystone every morning.

Dinner last night: Vegetable soup.