This was a hard morning. 10 years ago I was sitting having breakfast with what we came to call our “bagel friends” – four of us who met several mornings a week to have a bagel and coffee before heading off to work. No, we did not know each other, other than to meet and share brief conversations and have breakfast, separate lives coming and going – just happening to share a place for that quick meal before starting the day.
10 years ago, we listened in disbelief as the radio broke from their morning play routine and aimless patter to tell us an airplane had flown into one of the world trade center’s twin towers… they say everyone’s lives changed that day. Some in different ways, but each of agreed later in the week as we continued to show up for our ‘shared’ meal that we would make it a point to get together on the one year anniversary and see where we (and the country and world) were.
We made that anniversary, but as I would soon be moving out of the area, it wasn’t going to be my breakfast place anymore. But the four of us agreed to try and meet again, if at all possible on the tenth year anniversary.
That was this morning. I worked the night shift, got off work, ran the electric razor over my face, brushed my teeth, and drove the 15 miles to the Bagelry in San Dimas (CA). The only other one there was Carole, now a retired school teacher. But she knew of the other two. Bobbie was killed, she said, a couple of years ago when an intoxicated, illegal alien ran a red light and plowed into him, killing him instantly. Barbara, who I remembered as a sharp-witted, quick with a comment lady who was an office manager, was in hospice in the High Desert area near Apple Valley with pancreatic cancer and wasn’t expected to live out the year.
We hugged, we cried a little (okay, a lot), and said neither of us thought we’d be around for the 20th anniversary of 9/11 – and maybe that’s just as well.
The world keeps on changing, people continue to go in and out of our lives, and yes, this was a hard morning.