New York, August 13

Back in New York State after an eight year absence. It’s overcast and humid, something we aren’t used to in L.A.

The young woman I noticed at Bob Hope Airport last night came over to me at the baggage kiosk. Turns out she is Kaitlyn, my friend Zsuzsu’s daughter. She’s here with a play that opens at the NY Fringe Festival this weekend. She noticed I was wearing a jacket from the training barn Zsuzsu ran with Gayle when I moved Ace up to Ranch at the Falls. It is a small world. I’ve asked Kaitlyn to join us for dinner on Monday night. I figured she’d like to meet Kristina & Stephanie, since they are in the same line of work. Kaitlyn is behind the scenes rather than in front of them.

The bus is now making the rounds of the airport stops. There was a police vehicle blocking traffic as we started out of the Jet Blue area. We couldn’t see what the problem was.

I realized that I forgot my point and shoot digital camera. It’s got to be sitting on my desk. Annoying, but not a total loss. I’ve got the Nikon D70 with me. It’s a little bulky for taking to dinner, but it’s faster and better for just about everything.

The flight was o.k. Some minor bumps at the beginning and bigger ones at the end. The couple sitting next to me in the middle and window seat were annoying and loud. I had to get up several times during the night to let them out. I did no more than doze occasionally. I think I might have gone out during Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow. Nice touch, being able to watch MSNBC in the air. I spent the rest of the night listening to the iPod. I just discovered that I can adjust the balance to the kind of music I like. I’m listening to Tom Paxton singing “The Bravest” and trying not to cry. In a few minutes I’ll have my first view of the New York skyline since September 7, 2001. It will look different.

It did. It’s much shorter in the south end of Manhattan, though the news was about some hummungus steel beam which has been moved into place for the rebuilding of Ground Zero.

Stephanie met me at the bus stop and we went into a busy restaurant across from Grand Central on Park Avenue for breakfast. “Do you have reservations?” asked the manager. Reservations? For breakfast? During the week? In New York? It turned out to be the kind of place that must be used for breakfast business meetings. I was a bit disheveled and ripe from the flight, but they seated us anyway and breakfast was fine. We had about 90 more minutes to kill after we ate and we walked around the renovated Grand Central, which has a fine market—oh the cheese and spice shops were to die for—and where I was able to buy a container with four fresh figs. Mom had expressed her desire for fresh figs, which she hadn’t been able to find at home and which I could not legally bring back with me from California.

Today is my son's birthday and I think it may be the first one I've missed since the days when he spent summers with his father. I miss him and wish that I had been able to plan ahead so he could come along on this trip.