Did They Just Tell Me "No"?

Why do you hire an expert?

Well, it is because of the expertise that they have that you do not.

So, what do you do when you don’t agree with what the expert you have hired has recommended?

Take a minute to pause and think back to what Edmund Burke once said. “Your representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgment, and he betrays instead of serving you if he sacrifices it to your opinion.”

That’s a mouthful, but read it a couple of times. What it is saying is that the expert you hired has a duty to tell you “no” when that expert knows that his opinion is correct and yours is not.

The expert that you hired is not trying to push you around, not trying to get you going, not trying to do anything but to serve you in the capacity in which you hired them to serve you.

The expert is speaking from experiences that you do not have...the lack of experience which is the very reason that you hired that expert.

So don’t get upset when you are told “no” by your expert, but instead, take the time to understand where the “no” is coming from...the experience and expertise of the expert.

Giving Thanks When It’s Due...

I always try to remember to give credit where credit is due and I just ran across an article that made me feel the need to sound off with some thanks.

The new mayor of Hartford, Connecticut is a guy named Eddie Perez. Growing up in the bad part of Hartford with his single mom and eight siblings, Mayor Perez was once known on the streets as “The Professor” and ran with a gang he co-founded with some other young male family members.

Perez gives credit to getting involved in the community as to the reason that he turned his life around and started doing some good.

I grew up in the bad part of town and I grew up around guys just like Eddie Perez. One of the things that Perez commented on in an interview was that as he learns about the kids he grew up with, he finds that about 90% of them died from drugs or a life of crime, ended up in jail, or have no measure of success in their life whatsoever.

Hearing that 90% figure and seeing what Eddie Perez did with his life led me to think back on the loving family that I had around me and the wonderful friends that I made that not only accepted the kid from the poor side of town as their friend, but those friends and their families that, without even knowing it, showed me that there was a better life for me out there than the one my fellow neighborhood kids were choosing.

It was, in fact, for me, my family and friends and their belief in me that showed me the way. I must thank you all, my friends, and I must thank my family for this wonderful gift of a better life...Each moment spent with you and each lesson learned was a stroke on a canvas that would materialize into my American dream...

America Back On The Moon?

It almost seems trivial to be discussing space exploration at this point in American history, but I guess I must agree that we must keep on reaching for the America of tomorrow.

How else are we going to one day unite the world under the People’s Democratic Republic of the United States of the World? How many stars are on that flag?

I’m OK at looking towards space again as long as enough government is still working to keep us safe from terrorism before we are forced to divert those resources into figuring out how to defend ourselves from the subterranean Martians that we are going to piss off one day by landing on their planet.

First and foremost, despite the tragedies of 1986 and 2003, a push back to the moon, then on to Mars will most-likely result in the retiring of our space shuttles. As someone who grew up and aged with them, I will be sad to see the shuttles go, but we all know that they have outlived their mission.

The shuttles represent so much of the America that I grew up in...the America that finally defeated the Soviets and won the Cold War. As we bid farewell to our old work-horses, we will then need to decide if we launch our next round of moon missions direct from Earth or from the International Space Station. Will we see a new shuttle-like craft for transporting people and cargo to the space station? Will we see a new generation of Saturn 5-style rockets, or will we see both?

Either way, the best experts agree that for the sheer sake of technological advancements and the continually falling cost of that technology, man will be back on the moon within 15 years.

They say we will build a moon colony this time around and will have the technology for permanent residence on the moon. Yet another pristine, virtually untouched planet for us to litter with empty potato chip bags!

Once we have established our moon base, it will be time then to look to Mars, which these same experts say man will step foot on in about 25 to 30 years. I truly would love to see man on Mars before the end of my lifetime, but I must admit that I wonder how it will fit into our ever-changing lives here on Earth and which of man’s weaknesses and political and ethical quandaries will follow us up into the stars...who am I kidding? We all know that it will be all of them.

So, here is to empty Doritos bags littering the Martian countryside because, at least, as William Burrows pointed out in the WSJ, we will have spare humans on other worlds so that humans will survive when we finally destroy the Earth.

So, now that we have the pipe dream in place and can rest assured that we will not need to divvy up the surface of the moon with the evil Soviet empire this time around, how in the world are we going to pay for all of this? Well, that’s what they said before we went to the moon the first time and we managed to pay that bill off.

We’ll just have to sit back, keep paying our taxes, and see what happens.

Saving At Its Worst...

At this point in the economic game, any American who actually manages to save some money should be praised, but there’s a right way and a wrong way to do it.

A Pennsylvania man that was not named by The Week Magazine, most likely so he wouldn’t be bombarded with calls from financial planners, recently walked into a bank with 37 4 1/2 gallon buckets filled with pennies he had accumulated over 40 years.

The pennies totaled $10,060. Putting $10K away over 40 years is not extraordinary, but with more Americans not saving anything at all, it’s not too bad.

My problem, however, is that if this guy had started putting the $251.50 he was averaging per year in pennies into an investment that returned even 5% per year, he’d have $20,252 instead of $10,060, even after paying taxes.

Putting these pennies in buckets instead of investing them was a monumental mistake.

“Some people don’t think pennies add up to anything,” this man’s wife was quoted as saying.

I’d love to have seen the look on her proud face when she found out that an annual trip to the bank with these pennies could have doubled their money.

What Is Insider Trading?

Sure it looks fun in the movies and it is basically what started this whole Martha Stewart mess, but how many of us understand insider trading?

Well, there are a good deal of gray areas when it comes to the insider trading laws, much like how traffic laws are open to interpretation but can still land you in jail based on how they are interpreted.

Insider trading laws were enacted in a five-year period following the 1929 crash to combat some common abuses of the era.

Basically, it is illegal for you buy or sell shares of a company based on information that you receive from an officer or key employee of that company.

If this individual tells you, or in some other way, provides information to you that they believe will, or is commonly known to, effect share price and you then go and buy or sell shares in that company, you have then committed a crime.

Here’s the kicker. If the person telling you this information is not an employee of that company nor discloses to you that they heard this information from an employee of the company, you can buy and sell all that you want to with this information, completely legally.

If you are walking down the street and find a memo that says Microsoft is going to stop selling software and develop a new line of oven mitts, you can legally act on that information. More so, if you break into Bill Gates’s house and see this memo on his desk, you can be prosecuted for breaking into his house, but you can buy, buy, buy and sell, sell, sell, fully legally with the information that you saw while you were illegally in his home.

But, if you hear it from a Microsoft employee and you act on it before it becomes public knowledge, you can end up in jail for insider trading.

Back In 1904...

Back in 1904...

...the average life expectancy in the U.S. was 47 years.
...only 14% of U.S. homes had a bathtub.
...only 8% of U.S. homes had a telephone.
...a 3-minute call from Denver to New York City cost $11.
...there were only 8,000 cars in the U.S., and only 144 miles of paved roads.
...the maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 miles per hour.
...Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California.
...California was only the 21st most populous state with a mere 1.4 million residents.
...the tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.
...the average wage in the U.S. was 22 cents an hour.
...the average U.S. worker made between $200 and $400 per year.
...a competent accountant could expect to earn $2,000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.
...more than 95% of all births in the U.S. took place at home.
...90% of all U.S. physicians had no college education. Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard".
...sugar cost four cents a pound.
...eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.
...coffee was fifteen cents a pound.
...most women only washed their hair once a month, and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo.
...Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people from entering the country for any reason.
...the five leading causes of death in the U.S. were: 1. Pneumonia and influenza, 2. Tuberculosis, 3. Diarrhea, 4. Heart disease, 5. Stroke.
...the American flag had 45 stars.
...Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska hadn’t been admitted to the Union yet.
...the population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was 30.
...crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn’t been invented yet.
...there was no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.
...20% of U.S. adults couldn’t read or write.
...only 6% of all Americans had graduated high school.
...marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at corner drugstores. According to one pharmacist, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."
...18% of households in the U.S had at least one full-time servant or domestic.
...there were only about 230 reported murders in the entire U.S.
...letters could take months to travel the world. This information came to me in an "electronic" mail, "copied and pasted" by me into a "software program" on a "computer" and delivered to you via the World Wide Web that involves no paper, writing, or teamsters (who drove horses in 1904), in just a couple of seconds...try to imagine what it may be like in another 100 years...

Some Horrid Hiring Stories...

Let’s face it...good people are hard to find. It is important for us to make sure that our hiring processes are not costing us extremely talented and dedicated personnel.

Whether we conduct the interviews ourselves, or delegate that responsibility to one of our managers, I think it is important for all of us to continually monitor our hiring practices to ensure quality. Let me share with you some of the situations that I have recently heard of prospective employees enduring.

First, be sure that the person doing the hiring knows the ins and outs of the company’s policies and procedures. Imagine that you go on an interview, let the person doing the hiring know that your main focus for taking the job is not necessarily the pay rate, but the hours and the health benefits offered by the company. Later, after accepting the job, you come to find out that your training is during hours you said you would be unavailable and the health insurance benefits that you were told started in two months, actually do not start for six months.

How many times have we all been on job interviews where we were told that a decision would be made by the end of the day and that if we did not hear from the person doing the hiring by the end of that day, we could assume that we did not get the job? I had my share of interviews back in the day and folks back then got back to you right away, but what I am hearing is that now-a-days, prospective employers are telling prospective employees this, not getting back to them at the end of the day, taking a few days to consider applicants without contacting them, then calling to offer jobs two to three days later.

Naturally, a prospective employee has other interviews and in each case, the prospective employee had taken another job by the time the person who told them to assume they did not get the job without a call by the end of the day called them back. In each case, the prospective employer lost the candidate that they felt was most qualified, simply because they did not follow through.

Keep in mind that even if you have not made a decision, if you have told prospective employees to assume they did not get the job if they do not hear from you by the end of the day, you should call and let them know you are still considering the candidates. Why would they do anything other than assume they did not get the job if they have not heard from you? All we are talking about here is professional courtesy. Make the calls in your last hour at the office, or on the way home, but do not leave people hanging...that’s just rude and translates into bad business.

Lastly, though it is important to take the time necessary to consider candidates for a position, we must also consider and understand that in many cases, the candidates are interviewing with other companies so though decisions should be thorough, we must take care not to drag out the interview process too long.

For example, one prospective employee went on a job interview on August 12th and was told that the employer was interested in hiring her, but that a second interview was required. Then, there is no word from the prospective employer until two weeks later, when on August 26th, the prospective employee is asked to come in for a second interview on August 28th, a full 16 days after the first interview. Naturally, the prospective employee had already been hired by someone else, again, a loss to the employer.

Does Quality Suffer When Business Is Booming?

On a trip to the Fashion Island Daily Grill on Sunday for breakfast, the extremely slow service gave us time to talk about the nature of why we were receiving slow service.

Why is it that I could walk into the restaurant on Saturday at 11:00 a.m. and get perfectly wonderful service, yet when I walked into that same restaurant on Sunday at 11:00 a.m., I received absolutely horrible service?

Now, before you think immediately to factoring in church, the golf course, and any other things that drive more people to the restaurant on Sunday, I would like to propose a point...Whether the restaurant is more crowded on Sunday or not, should I not expect the same level of service on a Sunday?

I think it is up to the manager of the restaurant to ensure that there is enough staff on hand on a busier day, not to just expect that the customers will allow a lower level service because the restaurant is busier. Believe it or not, I was told by the waiter that the bad service I received was because there were just so many tables today...I found it funny because it didn’t look like they brought in more tables...yes, ha, ha, I know what he meant, but why was the service level lower because it was more crowded?

I think the answer is because management did not take the proper steps to ensure that the same high quality of service can be provided, whether the restaurant is half full or completely full.

My point here is that I think each of us need to look at how we provide service to our customers when times are slow and compare it to the service we provide when things are busy. Is the customer suffering because you are busy? They shouldn’t be. It is up to us to take the steps necessary to ensure consistency of service no matter how slow or busy things are for us.

Online Ads...On The Rise?

Even more evidence that the dot-com black hole may have reached infinite zero and is again expanding can be found in the latest numbers for Internet advertising.

C’mon, you remember when there were salesmen who wanted to sell you banner ad space on their web site? They were the guys that would take shares of stock instead of money as payment.

Anyway, enough of the history lesson...Believe it or not, spending for online advertisements is expected to be higher in 2003 than 2002, the first increase since 1999.

If that doesn’t shock you, how about what that figure for 2003 will be...$6.3 billion. Still not surprised? Online advertising will increase for 2003, but other media such as radio, TV and print will not.

Why Is Ben On The C-Note?

Have you ever wondered why Benjamin Franklin is the only person featured on American paper currency who is not a former President of the United States? To find the answer, we must travel back to Ben Franklin’s day, but make a quick stop in an America on the brink of civil war.

When Abraham Lincoln took over the presidency, despite nearly one hundred years of existence, our fine country still did not have a federal, nation-wide currency. Realizing that war was eminent, and that a federal currency would be needed to fund and control war-time spending in the North, Mr. Lincoln ordered the first printing of the US federal dollar.

So, what did America do for money for the first hundred years? Would you believe that local banks printed currency notes themselves? You went to your bank, withdrew a note for a pre-designated amount and traded it with a store owner for goods on the pretense that the store owner could go to your bank and draw on the bank’s funds or have money put in his account to cover the amount of your purchase.

Bank notes back then worked much like a check works today. One of the main problems with this bank note system was that at any given time in pre-Lincoln America, up to 2/3 of the bank notes being passed around were counterfeit. In fact, one of the major British war efforts in the 1770s was to flood the American colonies with fake bank notes to destabilize our new, independent economy.

Some of the bank notes were easily forged by the monarchy, while others were very difficult to copy. And whose were the most difficult to copy? Why, the ones designed and printed by Mr. Benjamin Franklin of Philadelphia, or course. Hence, the well-deserved honor of gracing the $100 bill.

My “Fellow” “Americans”...

So, I’m flipping channels the other night and come across a little TV show called “Are You Hot?”. Now, maybe I don’t see a yellow-tinted-glasses-wearing Lorenzo Llamas or a badly-aging Rachael Hunter judging the looks and sex appeal of the common idiot masses as entertainment, but apparently there are millions out there who do.

Please note that when I talk about America, it’s usually, “us,” but when it comes to reality television and the dramas we all just have to watch, folks, there’s usually me and everybody else. I’ve never watched a single episode of The Sopranos. Do I totally love real-life mobster stories? You bet. Do I totally love an intriguing mystery/action novel? You bet. Do I enjoy being the only one in the room that hasn’t seen a single episode of Survivor, Fear Factor, or Who Wants To Marry Some Dumbass Who Wants To Marry Someone On Live TV? See the pattern? You bet!

There was a time when I enjoyed going to a little Italian Restaurant/Irish Bar called BirraPoretti’s at South Coast Plaza. The law aside, I started going there when I was 15 and spent countless hours upon hours enjoying their wonderful Italian food, Guinness on tap, and conversation with the well-dressed, properly-mannered clientele that made up the crowd there for many-a-year. I actually wrote some of my best stuff at one of the tables in the back corner of the bar there.

Then, about four years ago, after decades of a prosperous business model, some dumbass decided to move the tables out of the corners and put big screen TVs in their place. I can call on over twenty witnesses that will tell you, when they put those TVs in, William said, “I give them five years, tops, then they’ll be out of business.” TVs led to the dress code, the dress code led to football jerseys and a slip in food quality, which led to the menu changing, which led to no where. Guess whose doors are closed forever? Thanks, TV! You ruined Birra’s for me!

Now, just when you thought reali-shitty TV could not get any worse, Fox is proud to bring you, “Married By America.” On this one, single folks who haven’t been able to find their significant other are going to be paired up in matrimony by their fellow idiots...sorry, I mean peers. So, these morons are going to let “America” pick their soul mate and then they are going to get married before even meeting each other while “America” watches.

No matter what we’re arguing about and no matter what position you are in during the argument, there seems to be two “Americas.” There’s a 98% and a 2% that used to be a 97% and a 3%. There’s a something-% and a something-% when it comes to every aspect of America. So, while there’s 98% who enjoy reality TV, there’s the 2% of us who do not. So, what’s wrong with those of us who think MTV should show some god-damned music videos once in a while and force those f-ing Real World kids to get lives and jobs? What’s wrong with those of us who aren’t shocked and amazed that some construction worker is experiencing guilt over lying to a group of gold-diggers who are after his fictitious money? Nothing, really, it’s just that we’ve made the choice to experience life ourselves, instead of relishing in other people’s triumphs and defeats (if you can even all them that) while we sit in front of an appliance.

There is so much wonder going on in my romantic life that I don’t need to worry about who J-Lo is screwing this month, even though whenever I watch a 24-hour news channel, I have to turn off the last 15 minutes of every hour because they want to tell me. There are so many wonderful and intriguing people around me that I’ve never had to watch “Friends.” There are too many wonderful things out there in the world to be learned and enjoyed and there is so much to be done in the short time we own this wonderful gift of life. Am I the only one whose life is so full that I don’t have time, nor care enough, to know who’s getting the rose and who’s getting booted of the island, or fjord, or whatever the hell it is this season?

All right, All right, now, I’m not just bashing reali-shitty TV for no reason here...I have a message. See, like I said, there is in America, always two “Americas,” and there is no exception here. How is it that I am able to recite the gist of these shows without every having watched a single one? Between advertising, the buzz, and the media, they’re bombarding the 98%. You don’t want to be the only one at the water cooler tomorrow who didn’t watch, do you?!

So, watch up, 98%, because that still leaves 2% of us that are going to look back and relish in our accomplishments. We’re going to smile, knowing we can’t tell you who won American Idol this year, but could tell you the socio-economic reasons Saudi Arabia backed the Taliban (both sets of information are coming from the same appliance, people). One group of kids will settle into couch-potato-ism and another set of kids will one day lead America. 2% is going to hand a generation’s worth of growth, industry, and prosperity over to the next generation, knowing that thanks to things like reali-shitty TV, they will have even less competition than we did. 98% is going to leave their next generation Yoga DVDs by actual Real World cast members and memories of Darvas, Richard Hatches, people who will put their heads in a box full of scorpions if the price is right, and sports fanatics who can’t turn the game off long enough to sing “Happy Birthday” to their wife or kids. And yes, I’ve even seen that. Grown men actually reading the closed captions on a game while they sang, one eye on their kid and one eye on the game!

The Lesson Of Columbia

The first time I saw the space shuttle Columbia, I was six years old, sitting on the floor of my grandmother’s den, watching the very first launch of a space shuttle into space in 1981. The very last time I saw Columbia, I was lying on the floor of my living room, talking on the phone with my brother who was not even born until over four years after Columbia made her maiden voyage into space. I had gone to sleep just a couple of hours before we lost Columbia on Saturday.

On the morning of January 28, 1986, I was on a whale watching field trip with my sixth grade class and I missed the launch of the Challenger. I was actually sitting on the beach in Newport, eating lunch when I heard what had happened that morning. 

I pride myself on my patriotism and being appreciative of the gifts I have been given by this nation, but I am afraid that I, too, was guilty of complacency when it came to our space program.

One of the first things I bring up whenever talk turns to 9/11 is my shock...not my shock at what happened, but my shock that our entire nation had its head so far in the sand that no one saw it coming.

I began to talk about an attack on New York even when I was in high school in 1990, and I definitely was talking about it in 1998 when I made the comparison of our state of the nation in 1998 to our state of the nation in 1941.

In 1981, I took great pride in the success of Columbia and in 1986, I grieved with the rest of our nation at the loss of the Challenger crew. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed reading about the space program, watching the launches and live interviews with the crews from space. I also still marvel at the progress of the International Space Station.

I am currently compiling pieces for decorating my bedroom which I am calling the “America” room, but even as I was putting together pieces reflecting the Civil War, World War II, our Cold War culture, 9/11, and the spirit of old New York, the thought never crossed my mind about including our space program.

I am forced to place myself in a category of Americans who had taken the dangers of our space program far too lightly. Saturday, I mourned with the rest of the nation at the loss of the Columbia crew, as well as the symbolism of the loss of the first space shuttle to venture into orbit.

If you watch Star Trek: The Motion Picture, there is a grouping of artwork on the recreation deck of the ship that shows the ships that bore the name Enterprise. One of them is the space shuttle Enterprise, the only of one the six shuttles never to actually fly in space.

It was a novelty in 1979 to show the space shuttle Enterprise in the movie, but as we sit here in 2003, this is now just one of the many small things in life that will remind us of our space shuttle tragedies for years to come.

Whenever I saw a space shuttle, I almost immediately remembered the Challenger. Now, I have two tragedies to remember. Science fiction attempts to teach us where we are going in the future, and also, what we need to do to get there. Remember back to 1979...who could have known then that by 2003, two of the six space shuttles would be gone, and who could have known that we would be stuck in a quandary on February 1, 2003, about how to get our long-term space explorers home from an International Space Station?

On top of it, who would have known in 1979 that in 2003, one of our options would be to rely on the help of our Russian friends? There is in all of this, a lesson to be learned. We lost Challenger in 1986, but we went back up. We lost Columbia in 2003, and we will go back up. We tamed a wild continent called America, even though it took 200 years. We will tame the final frontier, no matter how long it takes.

I am sorry that somewhere between 1986 and 2003, I took for granted the bravery and sacrifice of each person that straps on a space suit and then straps themselves to a controlled explosion to get into space. These people, just as much as any soldier on the battlefield, have helped make America what it is today through their bravery. These are the people who would climb into Discovery, Atlantis, or Endeavor today, despite everything, to go and do their job, whether it be research, defense, or bringing stranded astronauts home.

These are the people that died in a capsule fire, trying to get us to the moon...these are the people that spent the last seconds of their lives, some in 1986, and some in 2003, aboard a space shuttle. Such determination can be summed up in one small phrase...“We are Americans.” I have learned my lesson...I will not forget again...

The Interesting Journey Of The Body Of The Father Of Many Of Our Fonts

John Baskerville lived an interesting life, but the after-life of his “earthly” remains is a Gothic tale of Poe-tic proportions.

Baskerville had a lifelong passion for beautiful lettering and books. Around 1726, Baskerville moved to Birmingham, England and in 1738, he began experimenting with different types of papermaking, ink manufacturing, typefounding and printing. Baskerville invented his first of many typefaces in 1754 and most “serif” style fonts, even Times New Roman which was developed for the London Times newspaper, have been adaptations of Baskerville fonts. 

Baskerville would later go on to be the printer for the Cambridge University Press, and ironically for an atheist, is best known for his Cambridge University printing of the Bible. Baskerville even became a close friend of Benjamin Franklin while working with Cambridge University.

Baskerville died in 1775 after a long, interesting life, but he could not have even imagined the journey his body was about to take. Baskerville’s will decreed that he did not care in which manner he was buried, but only that he not be buried on consecrated ground, so he was placed in a lead coffin and buried on the grounds of his home.

In 1791, the Baskerville home was destroyed in the Birmingham riots and the land was sold to John Ryland who left it to his son Samuel, who sold it to Thomas Gibson who cut a canal through the grounds to create wharf land.

In 1821, workers came across Baskerville’s coffin and though Baskerville’s descendants didn’t want it, Gibson did not want to bury it in consecrated ground per Baskerville’s original wishes, so he placed it in his warehouse, where after eight years it was placed in John Marston’s plumbing shop. Baskerville's coffin was placed in a corner and sometimes even used as a workbench.

After eight years in the plumbing shop, Martson’s curiosity got the best of him and he opened the coffin only to make on-lookers ill at the sight. Once having opened it, Marston didn’t want the coffin around anymore, so he applied to have it buried in his family’s vault at St. Philip’s Church, but permission was refused.

A bookseller by the name of Nott who knew and appreciated Baskerville’s work agreed to bury the coffin in the Nott family vault, so Marston put it in a wheel barrow, wheeled it across town and left it on the floor of the Nott vault at Christ Church.

In 1892, Baskerville’s coffin was finally encased in cement, of course after being opened by the curious again, and placed properly in the Nott vault. Then, in 1899, after only seven years of proper burial, nearly 125 years after his death, the Christ Church was demolished to make way for a shopping district and Baskerville’s remains, along with the remains of 600 others were finally laid to rest permanently at the Warstone Lane catacombs, although still against his wishes, in consecrated ground.

His body’s legacy and journey lasted much longer than Baskerville’s actual life.

Attacking Credit Card Debt

There are far too many Americans asking themselves how they can attack their credit card debt.

The first thing you need to do is to stop charging things!

Now, I know how difficult this can be, but it really is the only way. You will need to get out of the red before you attempt to better your financial standing. If you absolutely have to use your cards, then you’re not ready to get out of debt yet.

Trust me, you won’t get out of debt unless you want to and you won’t do it by continuing to charge things.

Once you’ve stopped charging, take a look at your accounts and their interest rates. Transfer all that you can to the lowest rate cards, then once you’ve done so, call every credit card company you still have a balance with and ask for a lower interest rate.

When you are denied, threaten to transfer your balance with them to another card and they will usually comply. I was able to get Capital One to drop my card from 18.9% to a fixed 12.9% in just a single phone call.

Once you’ve gotten your interest rates as low as you can, determine how much you can send towards the credit card bills each month. Make sure you can make at least the minimum payment on time for every card to avoid late fees and penalties.

Attack the highest rate card first with as much money as you can spare after you have made your minimum payments on everything else. Be diligent and dedicated. It will take time, but if you can avoid charging and attack your balances, even if it’s only one at a time, you will win the war against your credit card balances.

Geographic Diversification In Investing

There are so many things in our everyday lives that we are looking at differently now, after 9/11.

Financial Journalist Andrew Feinberg captured the new way that we must look at portfolio diversity best when he wrote, “In the post-9/11 world, I fear that our painstakingly diversified portfolio is actually dangerously concentrated. I mean, we are overweighted in Manhattan big-time.”

This is something new in investing, but a very valid point in the world we are living in today. Every analyst will preach non-stop about the importance of your portfolio being diversified. In yesterday’s world, diversifying amongst different countries, different sectors, different companies, different sized-companies and different company philosophies was enough, but with terrorism threatening U.S. cities, investors even need to diversify where their investments lie within the U.S.

Business in Manhattan literally ground to a halt on 9/11 and some investors learned that their diversified portfolios were extremely heavily invested in companies that resided in Manhattan. Investors need to check their portfolios to ensure that their U.S. investments are spread out over the geography of the nation as well.

Eye-Opening Comment On 9/11

I think even after all the time we’ve had to ponder since the morning of September 11, 2001, it is still hard for the average American to truly grasp what happened that morning.

I believe eSpeed, Inc.’s Executive VP Joseph Noviello really put the events of that fateful morning into perspective for me in a way I hadn’t really thought about yet.

Think about where you work, the people you work with, and the tasks that you share at your job as you read Noviello’s comments:

”People did whatever it took. Those whose managers had died showed their skills as natural leaders. Their instincts for what to do were so strong.”

That’s not a military officer talking about soldiers, but a business executive talking about his employees.

While September 11th showed us the worst of mankind, it also showed us the strength in everyday people.

Fred Alger, An American Hero

My thoughts are with all Americans today as we mourn the loss of our collective innocence one year ago today...Let us never forget the tragic and heroic events of that fateful day as we push forward into our future...

Seven years ago, Fred Alger, the founder of Fred Alger Management decided it was time for some rest after taking himself, investors, and his company to the forefront of the investment world.

Fred handed the reigns over to his brother David who had been with him all along and then made his way to retirement split between Switzerland and parts of the U.S. This past September as Fred and his wife were getting ready to leave the house in East Hampton, New York, which they had leased for a month’s vacation, Fred glanced at the television and saw One World Trade Center ablaze.

Fred Alger had chosen the 93rd floor of the World Trade Center for his offices and recalls that it took him quite some time to realize not only that his brother and former colleagues were in harm’s way, but that they had been killed in the attack. Nearly all of the firm’s employees perished.

Fred Alger Management was virtually wiped out on September 11th, but in the typical Fred Alger style, instead of leaving his investors in peril, he immediately cancelled retirement indefinitely and is now working to get the firm back on its feet.

Former employees who had moved on after coming into their own at Fred Alger immediately lined up to help run the now-leaderless funds and pensions. Today, almost a year later, Fred Alger Management is pretty much back on its feet and pushing forward, a symbol of spirit and determination.

What’s In My Wallet, Huh? Cash, You Damned Vulture...

Gold cards are out and platinum cards are in. Credit card companies are already working on their next wave of smoke and mirrors to rope people into the “prestige” of high-end credit card patronage. Titanium cards allow you to carry a balance of $100,000, have no annual fee, and perks like free internet access and magazine subscriptions. The vultures are trying to market titanium cards to law and medical students who they are hoping will rack up large bills now, but have the earning power later to eventually pay them off. If that’s not enough, ultra-elite cards like diamond, quantum, infinite, and black are also making their debuts with credit lines that start at six figures. American Express Black has benefits like roadside assistance and guaranteed airport parking, but carries an annual fee of $2,500. My advice on credit cards? Whether your card is gold, platinum, titanium, or Ukrainian, don’t carry a credit card balance, and always try to get cards without an annual fee. If you’re looking for a status symbol, how about being able to say you have no credit card debt in a nation where the average household carries $35,000 in credit card debt? If you need to carry a balance, look for a low-rate card, which is not necessarily going to be a “metal” or “element” or “smoke and mirrors” card. Watch out for “rebate” cards. Sure, you might get a free tank of gas every month, but are you paying $300 in finance charges instead of just spending your own $30 on gas? Always pay your minimum due and pay it on time...if you don’t there are clauses in the credit card application you signed that are there just to stick it you. Always be firm, almost a problem customer to your credit card companies. Be courteous, of course, but also demanding, and always threaten to take your business elsewhere. Call your credit card companies and tell them you are going to transfer balances away from them if they don’t lower your rate. You’d be surprised at how quickly they may lower your rates if you scare ‘em.

Remember Morning

Ours is a tale that has many beginnings, and even as I begin to tell it, I still do not know where it should start. I know only that I hope it is a tale that we shall never see end. When I look back and try to express how I feel, where do I begin? Where do I begin to measure our patriotism? How do I gauge such a thing? Do I begin to measure in the 1700s when my forefathers came to the new world from England? Do I imagine what it must have been like to make a supreme sacrifice for my beliefs, just as I imagined during the hours of solitude I spent in a Union Cemetery in downtown Marietta, Georgia a few years back? Do I start by trying to imagine what the Atlantic Crossing was like for our forefathers from Salerno? How did that compare to my great-great grandmother’s journey north to California in a covered wagon? Maybe I should start by telling of the smile I remember on my great-great grandmother’s face when I was younger. At 90 years, oh the tales she had to tell.

Though the foundations of patriotism are there, is patriotism not lost if it so easily forgotten, or gone out of style from lack of use and remembrance? Much like many of us today, there are so many questions floating around in my mind that I could ask end-on-end for days without repeating a single one.

For us, patriotism owns these long roots back into history. Tales of our family that I was told second-hand laid the foundation. When I look back first-hand, where does patriotism begin? It began in the black-and-white photo of my mother’s parents on their wedding day, my grandfather in his dress blue navy uniform. It began with a story my father told me of his father almost falling off a medical chopper after he was wounded in Korea. It began when we watched that same man laid to rest with military honors after cancer got the best of him. It began with stories of my great-uncle’s actions as a soldier, though by the time I met him as a child, I first remembered him for his pool table den and the laughter he filled it with. It began at baseball games when we would sing the national anthem and I could never get through the entire thing without shedding at least a hidden tear. It began with the pitcher of beer that my life-long friends and I shared with the Blue Angels at the Miramar Air Show where we accompanied my best friend’s father’s T-6, a World War II trainer that gave me chills to even look upon, let alone sit in. Knowing that there is a T-6 out there right now with a wing tip that I helped rivet on always fills me with such pride. It began with that same best friend's father's collection of artifacts from World War II, US issue worn by our soldiers, and German and Japanese-issue collected as our boys pushed forward to victory. It began at the Vietnam Memorial during our trip to Washington, D.C. in eighth grade. It began at Arlington Cemetery where we saw the graves of great, courageous Americans. That all leads me to where this should begin.

August 1999, we stood quietly together, looking down at the U.S.S. Arizona. I had long wondered growing up what it would feel like to be there. Once you are there, you know it is impossible to describe how it feels to stand on the memorial, reading the names, looking down at the hull, looking over the harbor, looking up to the sky and towards the sea where the attack was launched. That trip to Hawaii for my 25th birthday definitely gave the roots of patriotism a growth-spurt.

Over the previous years, there was so much to be emotional about. I was on a whale-watching trip in sixth grade the day the Space Shuttle Challenger met its fate. Two years later, I visited the memorial to the astronauts at Arlington. Three years after that, I came home from high school and watched 24-hour coverage of the Gulf War. We all watched Panama, Somalia, Bosnia, Albania, and saw bombings in Oklahoma and New York Cities. We shook inside at the Embassy Bombings and said a silent prayer for the men and women of the U.S.S. Cole. We feared and speculated over Flight 800, and watched mad-men crash planes into the ocean in Africa and even right off the Atlantic Coast. We smiled when we saw Ford, we felt humbled when we buried Nixon, we watched Carter work for peace, we thanked Reagan for working to end the cold war, remembering what it was like to watch the wall come down, all the while, our hearts breaking as we learned from Nancy of the one battle in his life he was losing. We backed George Senior in the war, and hoped with everyone for prosperity when Clinton took office. Some loved and some hated the man through the eight years, while far too many came to not even care at all. We marveled, however, whenever anything went wrong, whenever there was a job to be done, despite personal feelings, the country stood behind him. Though they lost the elections, we admired Bob Dole and wondered what President Ross Perot would have been like.

So came 2000 and we went to work on the campaign. We chose our sides and drew the lines, but didn’t know that Florida was coming. Here in California, we spoke out on the issues, we let our patriotism guide us. This campaign, we even ended up at a rally in Costa Mesa, where we saw our long-time congressman and friend Dana Rohrabacher run across the stage with a “Bush 2000” surfboard, waiting for Dick Cheney and Colin Powell to speak on their vision of tomorrow’s America. Little did we all know on that day what those two men would be doing a year later. We heard out our friends who were backing Gore, but still made it to the Republican victory party where we learned that we would have to wait some time to see who won. We laughed when we were called a “Fat Cat Nation” by our rivals and enjoyed the taunt so much, though we never used the term before, “Fat Cat” is often used by us all now. No matter what we said and no matter how we felt, it was a marvel to watch the machine of democracy, as imperfect as it is admirable, play out over the coming months.

Also in 2000, I sat in a darkened movie theater, the same one we visit at least once a week to relax and spend time together, whether it’s a love story with my girlfriend, a horror movie with my brother, an epic with my parents, or a comedy with my friends. It was there for the very first time, we saw a preview for Pearl Harbor. Sure, it was going to be Hollywood, but what it stood for, the tale that it was going to tell, never allowed me, even on a single occasion to watch that damned preview without tears swelling up in my eyes. I remembered being there just a year earlier, the unbelievable silence of it all, while I sat in that theater, noticing how little everyone around me even gave a damn about what story it would tell, talking and laughing, ignoring it all. Was it because it was 60 years ago, or was it just complacency?

I remember the pride I felt, when in early 2001, I saw so many of us, despite how we felt, looking forward not as Democrats or Republicans, but really trying to just be Americans. I remember the shame and disgust I felt when ballots and votes were being scrutinized so closely that a single vote was making such a huge difference amidst reports of the record-breaking amount of the thousands upon thousands of Americans who had chosen to not even vote. When they saw Ben Afleck, when they saw Tom Hanks, when they saw Mel Gibson, they realized not, that though they were actors, they were trying to portray a million Americans who had come and gone, fallen and sacrificed so very much so that we all could live the life that we live.

In February, I lost an uncle and my aunt lost a life-long love. I helped to carry his body in the chilling cold, but once we had said good-bye, I walked my girlfriend and brother over to the Veteran’s Memorial at the cemetery, where holding back tears, I led them in saying, “Thank you.” It was there that it truly hit me. It was there and then that I began to truly fear what might be coming. After watching the preview for Pearl Harbor, no matter who I was with, the conversation would immediately commence about how ironic I felt it was that the movie was coming out at a time such as it was. As I stood there in the cold wind, I remembered talking to everyone close to me about how I worried about the similarities of these days to those.

In 1941, we had our heads in the sand. We knew there was trouble abroad, but we were doing all that we could to stay out of it. We went here and there and made deals here and there. The enemies of freedom chipped away little by little, but though we shouted at them, in the end, they got to do as they pleased. The average American was much more concerned about their life as a whole and figured that the safety of the nation as a whole was not their responsibility or concern. Though we were still Americans, we grew complacent. Though it can be argued that hind-sight is 20/20, deep in my heart of hearts, the heart that had experienced all of these emotions about our nation, I grew worried that the foresight I was experiencing in 2001 was just as clear.

So, for the remainder of roughly the first three-quarters of 2001, when the conversation turned to politics or the state of the nation as it always tends to do, I voiced my concern that we were ripe for attack. You would hear me say with sarcasm, “It’s 2001 and we rule the world. No one can seriously harm us because we are so big and powerful. We’ve hit a few speed bumps, but it’s OK to ignore the warning signs because nothing is going to happen. We can afford to ignore those empty threats and we can afford to let those who have threatened us go un-checked. Just like we felt we could afford to appease Japan and Germany, we do not go after Bin Laden because it will be too hard to get to him. We ignored the blimps on our radar screen on the morning of December 7th just like we wonder if Clinton fired on the pharmaceutical company to draw attention away from what he did in the Oval Office, or if truly, he thought he was going to get Bin Laden…it didn’t really matter, because after all, what could he really do? Hitler was Europe’s problem, and damn it if Bin Laden shouldn’t be someone else’s, too. Yeah, I think they’re lying to us about peace, but we just better wait and see, because you never know, that guy with no flight experience who all of the sudden wants to learn how to fly a jumbo jet as soon as possible may just be doing so on a whim, even though he doesn’t really want to be taught how to take off or land.”

It was this complacency in America that led me to get involved in the 2000 campaign. It was all the heads in the sand that made me want to do something before it was too late. Perhaps I just knew it was time…For twenty-seven years, I lived in the “system” and I was its beneficiary. It was time, I felt, for me to step up and do what I could to do my part.

Well, the election went how it went and I settled in for four years of the administration that I believed in and voted for. As the days of 2001 passed, life continued as normal. My father earned his living by spending his time split between California, New York, Mexico, Pennsylvania, and even sometimes other places as well. Sometimes I find it ironic that I earn my living right here in my very home while he spends so much time away from it. With his travels to New York, my father has made friends there. He lived there for five years some time ago, and I think deep down, has been happy to be back and I am happy that my family has made these new friends. In early September, my father, brother, and mother made a trip to New York together, a trip they make a few times a year now. They came back with the usual stories of good times and travel nightmares, telling me of their friends and friends of friends that they would love for me to someday meet. On this particular trip, my family had dinner with Joe Allen, a close family friend of my dad’s good friend Joey. Upon their return my parents commented on how much Joe, Joey and I had in common, Joe and I because he worked in finance and Joey and I because he loved cars, and in particular, a certain German flavor.

So, this leads us now, to another beginning. On the night of September 10th, I sat down at my desk and read the latest newsletter from “the congressman,” as we’ve come to call him now. I remembered the rally and him running across the stage, having a good time, as I sat and read of the serious business he was working on at hand. Ironic it seems, that as feverishly as I threw myself into the issues, I cannot even remember what the issues in that newsletter were. I had planned on sending an email to the congressman, giving him my views and thanking him again, but I grew kind of tired from having worked most of the night. It was nearing 3:00 in the morning, so I decided to write to the congressman tomorrow. To date, I have not written that email.

My grandmother has always been an early riser. For as long as I can remember, she woke early, got my grandfather on his way to work, then turned on the news or an exercise program until it was time for her to start her day. I hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours, when the knock on the door woke me. I opened it to find no one there, but then heard my mother calling from the kitchen. I wonder how long I’ll remember it this vividly. When I walked towards the kitchen, she said, “Grandma just called. A plane hit one of the towers.” Though we don’t live in New York, there’s enough time spent over there that it could have only meant the World Trade Center.

My grandmother’s reaction was the same as mine and that was why she had called. My first thought was of my dad and where he was in the world that morning. My grandmother called to make sure he wasn’t in New York, but luckily, he had flown out of New York City for Mexico City, then on to Honduras the morning of the 10th. Of course, the “What if’s” immediately come to mind. What if he’d been coming home on the morning of the 11th and what if they’d chosen his flight? When my mom first told me, I figured it was a small private plane or something of the sorts that had been in an accident, but once I saw the damage that strike had made, I knew there was no way that was a small plane. That in itself gave me some relief since all of my friends who are pilots still fly nothing larger than a private corporate jet.

Once I knew my dad and my friends were safe, what had happened really began to sink in. A plane had hit one of the towers. Even after all of the dooms-day worry I had done in the past year, it still didn’t click. I moved to our living room, turned on the big TV and watched, waiting to hear how an accident like this could have happened. As I sat there in the first few minutes, my mom came in and asked me if I remembered them talking about Joe Allen. I told her that I did and she then told me that he works in one of the towers, but she wasn’t sure which one. I commented that it looked like the plane had hit pretty high and I was sure that people were able to get down out of the building, despite the strike. Maybe Joe didn’t work in that tower. Maybe he hadn’t gotten to work yet this morning.

As soon as we finished our conversation, I remembered that when I got home from high school on the day the Gulf War began, I recorded the news footage so that I could one day show my little brother who was five at the time, the coverage of the Gulf War. This time, I didn’t think about the VCR, but instead hurried down the hall to wake my brother up so he could see such a newsworthy event as an accident of this magnitude. Vinny was slow waking up, but finally made his way to the living room where watched for what seemed some time. We took in the speculation from the newscasters, making a few speculations ourselves. It was then, for the first time that we began to wonder. An inexperienced pilot in a small plane ending up in a once-in-a-lifetime accident of this magnitude was one thing, but a commercial pilot, even a small commercial plane pilot, hitting that building on accident on a clear morning began to seem nearly impossible.

Speculation ran wild from the newscasters and they tried to report every little detail that they could get their hands on. I don’t remember what a lot of it was, looking back, but I do remember one thing. There were two reports. One from someone watching radar via the internet, and another from a person on the ground that there was a plane heading north almost literally up the Hudson River, right that second, as we were watching. I remember the thought crossing my mind how odd that seemed, but of course, it had to be regular traffic and people were just noticing it today because of the accident.

The next thing I remember was when my mom called out from the kitchen, “Oh my God, did you see that?!” At first we thought it was an explosion, maybe the fuel in the crashed plane igniting finally from the heat, but as the newscast instant replay would show, that was the second plane hitting the other tower. Though we had speculated it, this was when it hit home. We were under attack. It wasn’t an army marching up the beach, or paratroopers launched from off-shore. They weren’t blazing across the border like we were used to. My Lord, they were actually flying planes into buildings. I thought of the old plane lots in the desert out here, and even the used jumbo jet dealership in Las Vegas at the airport. Though it truly did not matter to the people who I knew had just lost their lives in that tower, I hoped that those were stolen planes and not hijacked ones. Vinny and I talked on it as we watched the replay over and over. Together we hoped that the buildings were mostly empty. That people had slept in because it was Tuesday and not Monday, that they didn’t need to get an early start on their work. Sadly, though, we knew, it was the finance district, the World Trade Center, and it was more than likely that so many people were already working when those planes hit the towers. I thought of my old job that I started each morning at 7:30. I would have been sitting at my desk. We didn’t want to believe it, but they were sitting at their desks. It was then that I called Teresa. She had been at the gym early in the morning and had seen the newscast, but without sound, was unsure of what was going on. I found myself in disbelief in telling her that we were under attack. I told her to make sure she stayed out of populated areas and to stay close to home in case I needed to come get her. It was then that I began to call all of people I could think of that I knew that would probably not have put a TV or a radio on this early in the morning to tell them the same.

By now, my mom had spoken to my dad. He was on a plane from Honduras to Mexico City when the first plane hit, but we breathed another sigh of relief as he was safe on the ground, and being in Mexico, we figured, even safer than we were now. My dad was calling New York to check on everyone and my mom was calling him to learn of the news. While this was going on, Vinny and I had slowed our conversation a bit. There wasn’t really much else to say at this point. The images of the towers in flame were intense, and we hoped that the worst was over. It was then that we learned that there were planes unaccounted for and that all traffic was being told to land. I remember the sheer fright of learning that though most of them were confirmed as OK, the FAA was reporting nearly a thousand planes in the air. How many of them were there? What’s around us? Is there anything here in Huntington Beach that would be worth hitting? We immediately came up with contingency plans. Where we would go and what we would do. We figured if the nuclear plant at San Onofre were hit, we’d have enough time to get in the car and drive north before the radiation reached us. Though we griped and moaned when they closed the Air Base at El Toro and the Navy Yard in Long Beach, I think at that moment, I was secretly glad that they were not operating anymore because they were two less targets. I was reminded at that time of the fear I had as a little kid, of course, only when I thought of it, that my grandmother’s house where I spent so much time was only a couple miles from the Naval Weapons Station in Huntington Harbor that of course buzz had labeled as a primary target during the cold war that was on at time.

As we were contemplating this all, I’ll never forget how unbelievable it was to hear the street-cleaner going by outside. It was Tuesday morning as always, but I could not fathom that here we sat watching God-knows how many people die, watching in my lifetime, this nation come under attack on its own soil, all the while thinking, when was the last time…1812?...Did the battles of the civil war count?...Hawaii wasn’t a state in 1941, so they don’t count that, do they?...What in the hell does this count as? For some reason, while all of this is going through my head, I come to realize that my mom’s car is still in front of the house. Looking back, it seems so very weird that while watching this horror unfold, thinking of all of the possibilities of what could be next, that my instinct at the time was to run outside and move the car before we got a measly parking ticket.

So, my mom beats me out the door. While I pondered how amazing it was that we both still prioritized moving the car before getting a ticket above all else at the time, my mom ran to the car and started it. It was then that I noticed a good deal of our neighbors were also standing outside, literally in disbelief as well at what was going on. Between the guy in the street cleaner and the three parking control officers that followed him in their trucks, had they gotten to work so early that morning that they did not know? Had they not had a radio station tuned in, or even been told by dispatch what was going on? I do not know if they gave out tickets that morning because it appeared that everyone on my block had gotten out there the same time that we did and moved their cars. Either way, I made it a point before going back in to the house to yell at each passing parking control officer, “Don’t you know that the country is under attack?! And you are out here writing people tickets for not moving their cars?!” By the dumfounded look I got, I truly believe they had no clue what was going on.

Once back in the house, I settled on the floor in front of the TV, my nerves still shuddering from all that was going on this morning. As my mom walked down the hall to her room, calling my dad, Vinny and I took a close look at the towers. Vinny then told me that he remembered Joe saying that he worked on the 107th floor. As we studied the scene before us, it became apparent. No matter which tower Joe had worked in, if he had been in the office when either of the planes hit either of the buildings, he would be above the collision point. Though we knew, watching helplessly, there were so many people in those buildings that were not going to ever find a way down through the fires, we hoped. We threw out scenarios…Maybe the fire crews could eventually get up there with water and put the fires out. There had to have been places in the buildings that were not engulfed in flames. Places where people could have crouched, maybe near a broken window so they could breathe. Maybe they could bring in water-dropping planes and helicopters. Maybe if they got the fires under control, they could land helicopters on the roof and start pulling people off.

That was when it happened. We were talking out scenarios, studying as detailed as we could the image of the burning buildings on the screen when it looked like one of the towers had disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The camera angle that was being shown just showed the top portion of the buildings. I said to Vinny, “Is it gone?” Vinny and I both looked at the screen as closely as we could. There was a lot of smoke there, but it really looked like it had vanished. After we had spent about thirty seconds going back and forth, the newscaster noticed the same thing. He asked that they run the tape back because it looked like something else had happened. Sure enough, when they showed the playback in slow motion from the same angle, you could see the entire building fall. As soon as we made the realization, Vinny went running to the back of the house to tell my mom to come and see. By now, they had a few different angles that were confirming that it looked like the entire building, not just the top portion, had fallen.

I honestly do not remember when I first saw the Pentagon. I do not recall if it was before or after the first tower collapsed. I know now the order in which the events happened, but I cannot recall exactly when we learned of them that morning. To the best of recollection, it was after the first tower fell that the newscasters broke into their own commentary of the towers to report that they were receiving word of a large, billowing smoke cloud in Washington, D.C. Again, we hoped for the best. We hoped that it was a brush fire, or maybe an accidental building fire, or something, but as you know, we were proven wrong again. A few minutes later, the newscasters were reporting that it was the Pentagon. There wasn’t a close enough image to show the damage to the Pentagon yet, just a long-shot from somewhere in the city of the smoke cloud. We then figured the worst…that like the tower, the entire building was gone.

So, this was it. At this point, we figured it was an all-out attack. The FAA was reporting that there were still some one hundred planes in the air, some of which were still not confirmed as in the hands of their pilots. The FAA was grounding everything they could land and not letting anything else take off, but there were still one-hundred flying bombs in the air, each loaded with passengers. Then, there were the international flights. If they had gotten passenger planes here in the U.S., which still hadn’t been confirmed yet, then why wouldn’t it be conceivable that there were planes from Canada, Mexico, Europe, Japan?

If I recall correctly, it was about the same time that the newscasters were reporting a small plane crash in Pennsylvania that they announced that they were getting word that American Airlines had confirmed that two of their flights were missing. It wasn’t set in stone, but we knew it. As soon as that report came in, it was enough for us to know that there were at least four planes…the two in New York, the one in Washington and the one in Pennsylvania. If they had gotten two passenger jets, then they had gotten four, and if they had gotten four, Lord knows how many of them they had.

It seemed that about every few minutes, the newscasters were reporting how many planes were still left in the air. They had concluded the same. We knew of four, but how many of them were there? It was then that I noticed that my mom had walked back to her room and had been in there for some time. Vinny and I had been trying to keep her informed while she was getting ready for work, but had not seen her for a while. When I called back to her, she emerged from her room, on the phone, holding her hand up to quiet me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she told me, and I definitely know that I will never forget the incident itself. My mom just said, “Oh my God,” over and over again into the phone as she started to tear up. We knew at that minute that it was news about Joe.

My mom got off the phone and walked down the hall to tell us. She said that Joey had just gotten a call from Joe’s fiancée’s work and that Joey’s cousin who was also Joe’s fiancée, was hysterical with grief and that they needed him to come to her. Joe had, in fact, been at work when the plane hit his building. He had tried to get out, but when he realized that he was not going to be able to get down, he took out his cell phone and called his fiancée to tell her good-bye. He told her that he loved her, asked her to please tell his family that he loved them, that he didn’t think he was going to make it, and then, the phone went dead. As far as we know today, that was the last that anyone heard from Joe. I don’t recall exactly at what point I called my girlfriend Teresa to tell her what I learned of Joe and his fiancée, but I do definitely recall that I was so choked up that I could barely tell her. Just the thought of what it was like for Joe, the thought of what it would have been like to get that last phone call from him.

With Joe’s fate still fresh in our minds, we watched in inevitable disbelief, yet at the same time, a with frightening expectation, as the second tower came down. There were still planes in the air, but for New York, it was done. They were “marching” on Washington, D.C.. We figured that the plane that crashed was on its way there as well. It was a westward movement that appeared to be timed very precisely. With planes in the air, our thoughts were turned to a fear that one-by-one, the planes in their control were going to make their way westward to the major cities. Were there planes in their control that were going to circle and wait for the time they were supposed to hit? Were there planes over the Pacific that were heading for our populous areas in California? Were they done with Washington, D.C.? Was the attack sophisticated enough to divert another plane to Washington in place of the one that had crashed?

As it grew time for Vinny to go to school, I reasoned that we did not even know if it was over. It had appeared it was over after the two planes, but then Washington was hit, so who was to say that it was done, especially with planes still in the air. How many of the planes already on the ground had hijackers on them still? My business for the morning was a haircut appointment at South Coast Plaza, our local mall which was in fact quite a tourist attraction. I wondered if such a high-profile civilian target was on this list and called to cancel my appointment. I figured it would be best for us to stay close to home today.

As the morning wore on, it became apparent that there were no other planes in the air. There were reports already of suspicious-acting people on some of the flights that were on the ground. Reports of fighter jets over New York and Washington were coming in. The newscasts began to show the footage obtained from near the World Trade Center. New footage of the first plane hitting, new footage of the second plane hitting, footage from right near the towers when the first tower came down. It was like watching a scene out of a movie. It was so far away, yet so close to home. News reports throughout the day would show more and more footage - different angles, different views, different areas of what they were starting to call “Ground Zero.” Reports of the buildings around the towers beginning to collapse. Estimates of over 6,000 dead were flashing across the screens by the end of the night.

By the early morning hours of September 12th, the entire world had seen it and would come to share in the experiences that we all will mutually share and remember for the rest of our lives, but these, the minutes of early morning on September 11th, will be the bitter-sweet property of myself and my family for the rest of our lives. These are the minutes that I am honored and feel compelled to share to serve as a record for those who will come after us, for those who will wonder what it was like for most of us on that morning. We will each have our own memory, and this is my memory of that morning and the events in my life before that morning that shaped how I felt and still feel today.

Hamlet's Antic Disposition

In William Shakespeare’s classic tragedy Hamlet, the question is often raised whether Hamlet is truly mad, or if there is indeed method in his madness. The answer to this question can be found in Hamlet’s ability to be both a thinker and a master of plot.

Hamlet’s method in madness is seen in his references to Greek mythology, such as “Hyperion to a satyr” and “but no more like my father than I to Hercules” (Act I, Scene II). These references show that Hamlet is well educated, and therefore, analyzes a situation and decides what action to take, although, as also seen, Hamlet does more thinking than acting. Another reference to Hamlet’s intellect is in the fact that he has gone away to school, probably to a well-respected university. The reader learns of this fact when Claudius denies Hamlet’s request to return to school so that he can keep him under close eye in Denmark.

As a result of Hamlet’s intellect and superior thinking over his peers, after seeing his father’s ghost, Hamlet puts on a play himself, making the other characters (all but Horatio) believe that he is truly mad. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern believe Hamlet’s madness comes from his ambition to be king. These two gentlemen are, perhaps, the furthest from the true reason for Hamlet’s madness. Because of his death wish in his first soliloquy, and the way he procrastinates in doing his duty, it can clearly be seen that deep down inside, Hamlet has no desire to be king. Hamlet’s mother, Queen Gertrude, believes she has caused her son’s madness with her hasty marriage to his uncle. Although this marriage has made Hamlet angry because he cannot believe what his mother has done, it has not affected him enough to make him absent of rational thought, as is seen in Hamlet’s deliberate, conspiring actions throughout the play, including the play-within-a-play Hamlet has the traveling players put on in an attempt to “catch the conscious of the king”.

Coinciding with the assumptions of the other characters that Hamlet is mad, the king’s lord chamberlain, Polonius, believes the cause of Hamlet’s madness to be Hamlet’s love for Polonius’s daughter, Ophelia. Polonius’s assumption is the closest to reality of all of the characters in the play, for the only thing that actually affects Hamlet’s sanity in the play is his love for Ophelia. This can be seen in his anger when she gives him back the things he gave to her in Act III, Scene I. Although Hamlet denies his love for Ophelia, saying, “You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it: I loved you not”, his love for Ophelia can be seen in his playfulness with her before the actors play out his father’s murder in Act III, Scene II. Even though Hamlet is trying to appear irrational in his thoughts and speech, it can be seen that he really does care for Ophelia. The most evident scene of his love for Ophelia is when Hamlet and Horatio see her funeral procession in Act V, Scene I. Hamlet comes out of hiding in front of both Laertes and Claudius, after having killed Polonius and being thought dead in England, despite the danger he could have faced, to see Ophelia one last time before she is buried. This scene is one of the only ones in the play where there is not method in Hamlet’s irrational thought and action. After fighting off Laertes, Hamlet confesses, “I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.” Claudius’s reply to this is, “O, he is mad, Laertes.” For the only time in the play, Claudius is correct about Hamlet’s madness.

Despite the fact that Hamlet is truly irrational over Ophelia’s death and his loss, the examples of his method in madness clearly outweigh this one occasion. Hamlet’s madness is all part of his plan for revenge. He reveals this part of his plan to Horatio in saying, “How strange or odd soe’er I bear myself, as I perchance hereafter shall think meet to put an antic disposition on.” Hamlet goes on to tell Horatio to never doubt his sanity. This “antic disposition” has long been a topic of critical debate. I believe that Hamlet’s antic disposition throughout the play, is, in fact, truly part of his plot for revenge and does not portray his true, sane self. The only deviation from this plot is Hamlet’s appearance at Ophelia’s funeral. If Hamlet had still been truly sane and in control, only putting on an act here in this one instance, Hamlet would not have shown himself and would have struck against Claudius when he wasn’t expecting it. But, again, except for this one occasion, Hamlet’s madness is all part of his plot for revenge. 

There are many examples of Hamlet’s methodical madness throughout the play. The first solid example of Hamlet’s antic disposition is seen when Hamlet enters the library of the castle, reading a book in Act II, Scene II. The conversation that Hamlet has with Polonius here portrays Hamlet as irrational and absent of his wit. Hamlet carries on about his book and about life and time to Polonius. Hamlet portrays himself to be mad here because he knows that Polonius is close to Claudius and Polonius will tell Claudius that he believes Hamlet is mad. Hamlet does this because if Claudius thinks he is mad, then he will not think of him as a potential threat, thus making getting revenge for Hamlet’s father’s death much easier.

The next example of Hamlet’s antic disposition is seen in Act II, Scene II, while Hamlet and Ophelia are waiting for the play Hamlet has staged to begin. Hamlet’s false madness is clearly seen in how he acts towards Ophelia in the following passage:

HAMLET. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
OPHELIA. No, my lord.
HAMLET. I mean, my head upon your lap?
OPHELIA. Aye, my lord.
HAMLET. Do you think I meant country matters?
OPHELIA. I think nothing, my lord.
HAMLET. That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.
OPHELIA. What is, my lord.
HAMLET. Nothing.
OPHELIA. You are merry, my lord.
HAMLET. Who, I?
OPHELIA. Aye, my lord.
HAMLET. O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father dies within’s two hours.
OPHELIA. Nay, ‘tis twice two months, my lord.
HAMLET. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I’ll have a suit of sables. O heavens! Die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive his life half a year: but by ‘r lady, he must build churches then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is, ‘For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.’

Hamlet’s exchange with Ophelia is not something a respectful gentleman of his wits would say to a lady in public, especially one with which he is actually in love. Secondly, Hamlet says his father “died within’s two hours” even though Hamlet clearly knows how long it has been. Hamlet uses the aspect of non-realization of time having long been associated with madness to help make his false madness more believable. When Hamlet talks of the memory of his father, he is taking a shot at Claudius, but he knows Claudius will play it off because he thinks Hamlet is mad. Because Hamlet knows Claudius could not take harsh action against a man who was insane, Hamlet decides to go through with his plan to see how Claudius will react when he sees the actors reenact Claudius murdering his brother, King Hamlet. This example of intricate thinking further supports the idea that Hamlet is actually sane throughout the play.

The third solid sample of Hamlet’s antic disposition is seen in Act IV, Scene III, when Hamlet goes to see Claudius after killing Polonius:

KING. Now, Hamlet, where’s Polonius?
HAMLET. At supper.
KING. At supper! where?
HAMLET. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of public worms are e’en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots; your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that’s the end.
KING. Alas, alas!
HAMLET. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat the fish that hath fed of that worm.
KING. What dost thou mean by this?
HAMLET. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.

Through this passage, Hamlet further convinces Claudius of his madness via the heartless, grotesque manner in which he speaks of Polonius’s body and the worms, furthering his disgusting thoughts through the beggar eating the worm that ate of the corpse of the king.

Additionally, the closing scene of the tragedy shows that Hamlet, despite the fact that he has been poisoned by the “anointed sword” and is quite distraught to have learned that he is facing certain death, still manages to hold his wits and not only seek revenge for his father, but also his mother and himself. Earlier, in Hamlet’s fifth soliloquy, he decides not to kill Claudius at that time because Claudius has been cleansed of his sins through prayer. In the end, Hamlet keeps his wits about him to kill Claudius while Claudius’s conscience is stained with sin because his plotting has led to the death of Laertes, Hamlet, and Gertrude. With such sins on his soul, Hamlet knows that in killing Claudius, he will be sending him to an afterlife far from Heaven.

Hamlet’s sanity can also be clearly seen when he insists that Horatio does not follow in the ancient Roman tradition of a best friend dying with a fallen man. Hamlet says, “I am dead; Thou livest; report me and my cause aright...To tell my story”, asking Horatio to live to tell his tale and clear his name of Claudius’s death so that it will be known that Hamlet killed Claudius to avenge his father’s death at Claudius’s hand.

The strongest example of Hamlet’s sanity in the final scene, however, comes when he says, “But I do prophecy the election lights on Fortinbras.” This statement shows that Hamlet has taken into consideration the fate of the Danes and the state of Denmark, which will face a power vacuum because of the deaths of Claudius, Hamlet, and Gertrude. Hamlet makes sure, in his final moments, to leave the fate of Denmark in the worthy hands of Fortinbras. Were he truly mad, Hamlet would not have been concerned with the fate of his land and his people during his final moments of life.

Yet another example of Hamlet’s sanity throughout the play comes from the six soliloquies that occur amid the seemingly mad acts of Hamlet. These soliloquies, through which Hamlet tells how he feels and what he is thinking, are extremely rational and pass for the thoughts and feelings of a sane, justifiable man.

Further support of the concept of Hamlet’s antic disposition being just an act can be found in Sally Bauman’s article, “Hamlet Now”, where classic Shakespearean actor Derek Jacobi states, “[Shakespeare] had taken the plot of a revenge play...and into that genre he had inserted something completely radical – characters who are deeply investigated psychologically.” This statement portrays Hamlet as a character not suited for dramatic revenge, but as an intellectual who was very capable of plotting and meticulously carrying out his revenge.

These examples of Hamlet’s intricate thinking and sane, justifiable acts in the face of eminent death support the belief that Hamlet’s madness was an act, and not true madness.