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Whirlwind work trip to New York. Flew in on Wednesday evening, work all day Thursday and Friday, fly out Friday evening. Home, finally, at almost 2 AM. Not even enough time in the city for a cup of chai with Rew, who, apparently, needs a new Stradivarius. I wonder if it’s on her bridal register?

For my trip, I stayed at a Hilton hotel in the financial district. I lived in Manhattan years ago when I attended grad school. Did my hanging out more in Chelsea and SoHo and really had little reason to hang out in the financial district. One of the folks I was traveling with asked what I wanted to do when we were there. The only thing I could think of (aside from visiting Eddie Stern’s shala) was to go to Ground Zero to have a look around and say a prayer. She, too, wanted to visit the site, so we had that as our only plan (aside from work).

First evening there, I pulled out the map and tried to get my bearings. I am a terrible map reader, and I am generally lost almost anywhere I am, regardless how long I’ve lived in an area. After a few minutes of trying to figure out where I was located, I got up and looked out the window. Where I was, as it turned out, was 25 stories up, in a building that borders Ground Zero.

I can’t really do justice to how the site looks, even now that it’s been cleared of debris, and I am not even going to try. It was quite an experience each morning to see the sun rising over the buildings that surround the site, with the waters of the Hudson visible just beyond. Such beauty and such sadness.

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My favorite story of the trip: Thursday evening, I rounded up my colleagues and we took a walk across Canal Street and then into Little Italy. This is a terrific short walk for folks new to the city, and they just loved it.

Outside one restaurant, a very old Italian man was waving a menu and trying to lure people into the restaurant. We stopped to chat and then decided to try the restaurant. After we’d finished and were getting ready to leave, he came in and was telling me a bit about some tough times he’d had when he was younger, when suddenly his eyes lit on my tiny gold Buddha necklace.

“What’s that?” he asked. “It looks like a genie.”

“It’s the Buddha,” I said.

“Can I make a wish?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

So the little Italian man in the crisp fedora took the Buddha in his hand, closed his eyes very solemnly, and made a wish. When he was done, he made a sign of the cross and then kissed his thumb and forefinger.

“Thank you,” he said, and went back outside to trawl for customers.