Their Mother's Children

 

Lisa Trerotola,

Port Authority of NY/NJ

Lisa Trerotola was only thirty-six years old when she was killed at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  She was at work on that terrible Tuesday morning twenty-one Septembers ago, working as an Administrative Assistant for the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey in its offices, which at that time were located at 1 World Trade Center (the North Tower).   She worked on the 64th floor.  

For Lisa Trerotola, the day that ended up being the final day of her life was not the first time she had been at work when the World Trade Center was attacked.  On September 11, 2001, she was where she had been on February 26, 1993, when the World Trade Center was attacked for the first time.   On that cold February day, she was among the lucky ones.  On a warm, sun-soaked September morning eight and one-half years later, she was not. 

For years, Lisa Trerotola and her husband, Michael, had struggled to have a baby and to start a family.  Then lightning struck not once, but twice.  Roughly three and one-half years before she died, Lisa Trerotola gave birth to twins, Amanda and Michael.  On the final morning of her life, she stayed up until 2 a.m. putting the finishing touches on a handmade canvas bookbag for Amanda.  She had already completed Michael's.  Four hours later, she got up to get ready for work.  She never came home.  

Amanda Trerotola and Michael Trerotola, less than four years old when their mother died, did not learn that she had died at the World Trade Center until they were eleven years old.   Their dad, Michael, and their stepmom, Elizabeth, had told them simply that Lisa had died in a fire.   

Michael Trerotola graduated from The College of New Jersey in December 2021.  Shortly thereafter he shared his story with Alexandra Marvar of TCNJ Magazine.  I cannot recommend it enough.  As he was matriculating his way through TCNJ, Amanda was representing New Jersey with pride at The Ohio State University, from which she graduated in 2021.  She, too, has a beautiful soul.    

If you woke up this morning feeling as if life owes you something more than it has thus far delivered, then consider if you will that after having lost their mother in 2001 before their 4th birthdays, Amanda and Michael Trerotola buried their dad, Michael, earlier this year.   

-AK 

Silver Dollars, Sons, and Fathers

 

Garry W. Lozier 

Sandler O'Neill & Partners

Tuesday, September 11, 2001 was ten-year-old Evan Lozier's first day of school at his new school in Connecticut.  He was the oldest child and only son of Kathleen Lozier and Garry W. Lozier, the latter of whom was a Managing Director at Sandler O'Neill & Partners.  His office was on the 104th floor of the World Trade Center's South Tower.  

Garry Lozier was a Jersey boy, born in Hackensack, and educated in Englewood, before he traveled across the Delaware River to earn his college degree at Lehigh University.  His professional career took him from New Jersey across the Hudson River to lower Manhattan and the world of high finance, figuratively and literally.  

On February 26, 1993, when terrorists attacked the World Trade Center the first time, Garry Lozier was at work.  He emerged from the incident unscathed and with a renewed zeal for life.   In addition to being a wizard of Wall Street he was a loving husband and devoted dad, cheering on Evan in every sport he played and making it home every night to bathe his two little girls Karoline (7) and Olivia (4) and then read them bedtime stories.  

As sons often do, Evan Lozier has walked in the footsteps of his dad.  He too graduated from Lehigh University.  He too went to work in the world of finance, working at Piper Sandler, which was born out of Sandler O'Neill's purchase in 2019 by Piper Jaffray.  

And he carries in his pocket a silver dollar that his father used to carry in his.  

-AK 

A Brother Turned Hero

 

FF Michael Elferis 

Engine 22 - FDNY 

End of Watch: September 11, 2001

It may be difficult for some to remember but on Father's Day 2001 the FDNY suffered a grievous loss of life.  It was on that date that firefighters John Downing, Brian Fahey, and Harry Ford were killed in the line of duty while responding to an inferno at a hardware store in Astoria, Queens.  In response to that catastrophe, Firefighter Michael Elferis wrote a poem in honor of his fallen brothers: 

The Rage of the Fire

The rage of the fire 

This demon we fight

A battle in war

With no end in sight.

Brothers turned heroes

Not knowing we won

Now angels in heaven

From a battle that's done.

So we hope to continue

With their courage and pride

Knowing there's no greater job

Than the FDNY. 

FF Michael Elferis was born in New York City and lived his entire far-too-short-life there.  On September 11, 2001, he was one of the 343 members of the FDNY killed at the World Trade Center while saving others.  He was only twenty-seven years old.  

He attended college at a school near and dear to my heart, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, which is my son's Alma mater.  Before becoming FF Elferis, he was Police Officer Elferis, protecting and serving the people of New York City as a member of the NYPD in Manhattan's 10th Precinct.  In doing so, he followed in the footsteps of his brother Robert, also a NYPD officer.    He joined the FDNY after two years in the NYPD.  

In September 2001, FF Elferis was a member of Manhattan's Engine 22.   He was killed at the World Trade Center alongside other members of his firehouse.  On Thanksgiving night 2001, his body was recovered in the rubble of ground zero alongside the body of Vincent Kane, one of his brothers from Engine 22.   

Michael Elferis died a month shy of his 28th birthday.  He was survived by his parents, Robert and Mary, his brothers Robert and Joseph, and his sisters Elizabeth and Nancy.  Their angel in heaven.  Their brother turned hero.  

-AK 

The Marlboro Man

 

Alan David Feinberg - Asst. Battalion Chief

Battalion 9 FDNY - End of Watch September 11, 2001

Alan David Feinberg was a New York City firefighter for nineteen years.  Approximately three years after he joined the FDNY, Feinberg - born in Brooklyn - moved to Marlboro, New Jersey with his wife Wendy and the couple's infant daughter, Tara.  It was in Marlboro where the family would remain - and would grow - adding son Michael to complete the quartet.  He loved his job, he loved his family, and he loved his life.  

Asst. Battalion Chief Feinberg gave his life in the service of the people of New York City while working with his brother firefighters and other first responders to save people from the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  He was just forty-eight years old.  Wendy Feinberg, widowed far too young, said lovingly of her husband after his death, "He was very happy.  Everyone should have such a happy life.  He was the little boy who never grew up." 

He did not live long enough to see his oldest child, Tara, begin college.  However, then-seventeeen-year-old Tara honored her dad in the college essay she wrote when she was applying to the University of Florida.  Tara wrote, "My father has taught me the true meaning of a hero.   It amazes me how someone can have such an unyielding desire to help others, even when there is a constant risk of the danger involved." 

It turns out Tara Feinberg was an excellent a student as her dad was a teacher.  

-AK 

A Voice of Calm

 

Battalion Chief Matthew Lancelot Ryan

FDNY Battalion 1 (Manhattan)

End of Watch:  September 11, 2001

Matthew Lancelot Ryan spent more than half of his life in the FDNY.   He joined in 1973 and rose through the ranks for the next twenty-eight years.  His final assignment was Battalion Chief for Battalion 1 in Manhattan.  On September 11, 2001, he was one of two members of his house killed while saving others at the World Trade Center.  Chief Ryan was fifty-four years old.  

He and his wife, Margaret, were married for thirty-two years at the time of his death.  They had raised three children together, their daughters Joyce (the oldest) and Meaghan (the youngest), and their son Matthew (their only son and the middle child).   He was also a doting grandfather, spending as much time as he could in the company of the couple's only grandchild, Matthew, Joyce's little boy.  Little Matthew was just twenty-two months old when his grandfather was taken from him.  According to his grandmother, the pair were joined at the hip.  They went for walks together.  They played ball together, and, they engaged in what she called the "gloriously messy business" of washing the car together.  

Battalion Chief Ryan's reputation, built on close to three decades of experience in the FDNY, was that of the calm voice in the maelstrom of a major fire.  He was known for quietly giving directions to his firefighters and reassuring the less-experienced ones that everything would be fine.   

He wore an Irish Claddagh ring, which was recovered from the ruins of the World Trade Center.  His son, Matthew, began to wear it.  Less than five years after his father's death in the line of duty, Matthew Ryan, himself, became a member of the FDNY.  

-AK 

A Man of Action

 

Robert Cordice - FDNY Firefighter

Squad 1 - End of Watch September 11, 2001

Robert Cordice packed a lot of life into twenty-eight years.  Beginning in 1993, he was twenty-one years old and graduated from the NYPD Police Academy, he served the people of New York City for the rest of his life.  

FF Cordice was Officer Cordice for three years.  After graduating from the Academy he was a member of the NYPD from 1994 to October 19, 1997, working in Manhattan out of the 13th Precinct.  From there, he joined the FDNY.  

His first assignment in the FDNY was Ladder Company 102 in Brooklyn, where he spent his first year.  After completing his one-year rotation there, he spent the next year in Manhattan at Engine Company 1.  When that rotation ended, he transferred to Engine Company 152 in Staten Island.    

His best friend, John Deliso, a fellow firefighter spoke glowingly of his friend's craving of action.   He always felt at home in the thick of it.  To assuage that craving, exactly two weeks prior to September 11, 2001 he transferred from Engine Company 152 to Squad 1 in Park Slope, Brooklyn, which is one of the FDNY's elite units.  

FF Cordice was one of the twelve members of Squad 1 to die at the World Trade Center on that terrible Tuesday morning twenty-one Septembers ago.   He was precisely where he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted to do, in the company of brothers who shared his passion for protecting and saving others.  

Robert Cordice was survived by his mother, Caroline, his aunt Jo Ann, and his uncle Alphonse.   He was also survived by his inclusion on the FDNY "Calendar of Heroes", posing shirtless atop the bronze bull on Wall Street.   

A man of action, immortalized.   A picture-perfect method of remembrance.  

-AK 

Books and Covers

 

Talat Hamdani has spent the past twenty-one years as a member of an incomprehensibly heartbreaking and tragic club.  A club that neither she nor any of its other members wanted to join and one that each of them wishes was one to which her membership had been denied - or could be revoked.   It, of course, cannot.  

On that terrible Tuesday morning twenty-one Septembers ago, Talat Hamdani's twenty-three-year-old son, Mohammad Salman Hamdani, was among the innocents killed by the murderous cowards who flew the planes into the Twin Towers.   Mohammad was just thirteen months old when his parents moved from Pakistan to the United States, where they settled in Bayside, Queens.  "Sal" as he preferred to be called loved life in America.  He became an American citizen.  He played football at Bayside High School and after high school, he earned his degree in Biochemistry at Queens College in June 2001, while working part-time as an EMT.  His dream was to go to medical school.  In July 2001, he took a job as a research technician in the Protein/DNA Technology Center at Rockefeller University.  He also joined the NYPD's Cadet Program.  

He was on his way to work at Rockefeller University on September 11, 2001 when he saw the flames erupting from the World Trade Center.  Instead of heading to the lab, he headed straight towards the disaster.  He never made it to the lab.  He never made it home.  

In the immediate aftermath of the attack, the Hamdani family did what countless families all over the Tri-State Area did.  They made posters with Sal's picture on them, hung them up every place they could think to hang them, asking strangers "Have You Seen Him?"  Of course, no one had.  

Tragically, and inexcusably, Sal's "disappearance" was not treated initially as if he was a victim of that day's events but, rather, somehow connected to those who perpetrated them.  On October 12, 2001 the New York Post ran a story under William Gorka's by-line, the headline of which was "MISSING - OR HIDING? - MYSTERY OF NYPD CADET FROM PAKISTAN".  

He was, of course, neither missing nor hiding.  He was dead.  Killed in the place he had gone to save other.  

It was not until March 2002 that the Hamdani family was notified that Sal's remains had been found in the rubble of the North Tower, along with some of his belongings, forty-five days after the attack.   He was buried in April 2002 in a hero's funeral, his casket draped with an American flag, and attended by then-Mayor Michael Bloomberg.  

In 2014, a block away from the home in Bayside, Queens where his parents raised him and where his family continued to live, a street was renamed in his honor.  His mother, exuding the grace and dignity that seems to spring from an eternal well to which mothers alone have access, called that day, "a joyous and victorious day."   Sadly, his father did not live to celebrate it.  He died less than three years after his son had been murdered - the result of a broken heart, according to Talat.  

Losing a son can to that to a parent.  Even when that son is a hero.  Perhaps, even especially so.

Mohammad Salman Hamdani

EMT (Metro Ambulance)

End of Watch:  September 11, 2001

-AK 

Honor. Love. Respect.

Today, we remember and honor all those who were killed on September 11, 2001 and all those who have given their lives in service of this nation in the twenty-one years since by giving a shout out to one of my favorite organizations and its signature event.  

On September's final Sunday, as it has done annually on the final Sunday of September since 2002, the Tunnel to Towers New York City 5K will step off on the Brooklyn side of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and wind its way through Lower Manhattan until it finishes at the new World Trade Center.  

The Siller Family, which established the Tunnel To Towers Foundation in the wake of the death of their youngest sibling, Stephen, a FDNY firefighter, better exemplifies having turned something profoundly horrible into something profoundly helpful than any family or anything with which I am or have ever been familiar.  

Run.  Walk.  Honor.  

2017 Tunnel to Towers New York City 5K

Running through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel

-AK 

Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity

Special Agent Leonard William Hatton, Jr.

FBI Joint Bank Robbery Task Force 

(End of Watch - September 11, 2001) 

Leonard W. Hatton, Jr. was a Jersey guy.  Born and raised in Ridgefield Park, New Jersey, his father was a Ridgefield Park police officer and a member of the Ridgefield Park High School Class of 1975.  After graduating from Jersey City State College (now known as New Jersey City University) with his degree in Criminal Justice, he joined the United States Marine Corps where he served the people of the United States for six years.   

In 1985, he joined the FBI, where he specialized in explosives and evidence recovery.  When he joined the FBI he worked in New Orleans but in 1991 he came home (or more precisely, across the Hudson River from home) to New York City as part of a team investigating a bank robbery case.  He would spend the final ten years of his career, which sadly proved to also be the final ten years of his life, working in New York City.  Given his area of specialty, he spent a considerable amount of time in his FBI career investigating terrorist attacks, including the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, the 1998 bombings of United States Embassys, and the 2000 bombing of the USS Cole.  

He did not work at the World Trade Center and he was not assigned to respond there on September 11, 2001.  He was on his way to work in downtown Manhattan when he saw smoke billowing out of the North Tower, which changed his destination.   According to eyewitnesses, he mounted a position on the roof of the Marriott Hotel at 3 World Trade Center and radioed to his squad that people were jumping from the North Tower.  At 9:03 am he radioed to report that a second jet had flown into the South Tower.  When holding his position atop the Marriott became untenable, he moved from it and, consistent with his training as a volunteer firefighter, started helping FDNY firefighters evacuate people trapped in the South Tower.  One survivor told investigators that Mr. Hatton guided him out of the South Tower to safety before heading in to help others.  He was still inside the South Tower when it collapsed at 9:59 am.  

His love of country and his love of public service, as fervent as they were, paled in comparison to his love for his wife, JoAnne (his high school sweetheart) and the couple's three daughters (Tara, Jessica, and Courtney) and son (Lenny).  

In the twenty-one years since his death, Leonard Hatton's legacy has lived on in the Leonard W. Hatton Memorial Golf Classic, the 21st Annual Edition of which was held on June 3, 2022 (the fifth anniversary of my mother's death) at Pebble Creek Golf Club in Colts Neck, New Jersey.  100% of the Tournament's proceeds since its inception in 2002 have gone to the Burchette, Conners, Ellington, Hereford, Lynch Memorial College Scholarship Fund, which is a 501 (c) (3) organization that provides college scholarhips to the children of deceased FBI agents.   Through 2021, the Classic's contribution to the fund was $564,000.  

-AK 

The Captain

 

Captain Vincent Brunton, FDNY

Ladder 105 - Brooklyn

(End of Watch September 11, 2001)

For Vincent Brunton, 1979 was a big year.  It was the year he and his wife Cathy were married.  It was the year his daughter Kelly was born.  It was the year he became a New York City Firefighter.  

At the time of his death on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 he was a Captain in the FDNY in Ladder 105 in Brooklyn.   His dedication and devotion to training were so well-known in the FDNY that after he died a pillar at the Fire Academy was dedicated to him.  In 1992 he was awarded a departmental medal for saving a handicapped woman from a fire.  

Captain Brunton was also renowned among those with whom he worked at the FDNY for his ability to maintain his calm in high-pressure situations.   So profound was his influence that after he died one of his firefighters, Will Hickey, carried a small photograph of Captain Brunton inside of his helmet that he would touch every now and again because, according to FF Hickey, it reminded him to stay calm, to keep it simple, and to think on his feet.  

Three great lessons by which to live one’s life.  

-AK

Twenty-One to Twenty-One

 

Twenty-one days from today marks twenty-one years from the September 11 attacks.  Twenty-one to twenty-one.   

One way to measure time's passage from a particular event is to look at it through the lives of those directed affected by that event.  To that end, in connection with the twentieth anniversary of the attacks last year, Mary Biekert of Bloomberg wrote a terrific piece, entitled "Generation 9/11:  Following Parents They Lost Onto Wall Street."   

It might make you cry - or at least tear up a little - but it might also make you smile.   A generation of young men and women, deprived of a parent's companionship in their day-to-day, nevertheless following in their footsteps.  

The living honoring the dead.  Spend a few minutes today reading Mary Biekert's piece.  It will allow you to honor both.   

-AK    

A Long Walk Home

 Here, everybody has a neighbor

Everybody has a friend.

Everybody has a reason 

To begin again.

"Long Walk Home" 

- Bruce Springsteen

Imagine if you can that in addition to keeping up with all its current cases, the Office of the Medical Examiner in New York City continues to devote its time to working on an open case - a mass casualty event - that in less than thirty days shall be twenty-one years old.   You need not imagine it.  For the men and women of the Medical Examiner's Office, it is not a dream.  It is their job.  

Last September, shortly before the twentieth anniversary of the September 11 attacks, using DNA analysis on the unidentified remains recovered from the mass grave that had once been the World Trade Center, identified Dorothy Morgan of Hempstead, New York.  Ms. Morgan became the 1,646th person the Office has identified.   

She was a broker for Marsh & McLennan in its confidential services department.  On September 11, 2001 Marsh & McLennan had more than 1,900 employees in the World Trade Center, including eight hundred and forty-five in its offices on Floors 93-100 in the North Tower.  Nine hundred thirty-four worked in the South Tower, occupying offices on Floors 48-54.   Three hundred fifty-eight Marsh McLennan employees were murdered on that terrible Tuesday morning.   Dorothy Morgan, tragically, was one of them. 

Dorothy Morgan grew up a 'middle child', the fifth-born in a family of nine.  She was just forty-seven years old when she died.  She was a loving mother and a doting grandmother.  She found comfort in routines, the most important of which for her included visiting her mother on Fridays, shopping with her daughter, Nykiah, on Saturdays, and sitting in the same pew at her church in Jamaica, Queens every Sunday morning.  

When Nykiah was notified in August 2021 that her mom's remains had been identified and shortly thereafter the news was made public, she told various press outlets when asked that she really did not know what to do - other than that she was not planning on having a funeral.  I know not  whether she held true to that plan and frankly it is none of my business - or anyone's for that matter - whether she did.  

The decision how to honor Dorothy Morgan belongs exclusively to those who loved her and those she loved most of all.  It belongs to them much in the same way that she does.  Whatever they decided, their decision was the right one.  

At long last, Dorothy Morgan made it home to her family.  It was indeed an excruciatingly long walk. 

-AK 

The Gentle Giant

Middlesex Borough

September 11 Memorial

Richard B. Madden was only thirty-five years old when he was murdered on September 11, 2001.  Knowing that his situation was hopeless, in the final minutes of his life he called home to Westfield, New Jersey to speak to his wife, Maura, and the couple's nineteen-month-old daughter, Patricia.  He told her his situation and that he loved her.  It was the last conversation the couple ever had.  

He worked on the 100th floor of the South Tower for Aon Corp. as an insurance broker.  He graduated from New York Law School after he earned his Bachelor's Degree at Denison University.  He loved his wife.  He loved his little girl. 

And it was that love that helped bring him home.

At the time he died, Richard Madden was wearing his wedding ring into which Maura had inscribed, "Rich, all my love, Maura."  When his body was recovered from the rubble, it was those five words that identifed him.  

Five words that expressed a sentiment as true in the final moments of Richard's life as it was at the moment Maura had them inscribed on the ring.  

-AK

 

Not In Oscar's Wildest Dreams

 

Yesterday, twenty-five days away from the 21st anniversary of the September 11 attacks that killed thousands, New York City's 9/11 Tribute Museum closed its doors forever.   One might ask how those of us who were alive on that terrible Tuesday morning shall educate those who were not when an invaluable resource such as this gem of a joint is, itself, resigned to history's dustbin.  It is an excellent question.  It is also one to which I do not know the answer. 

The COVID-19 pandemic sealed its fate, apparently.  In 2019, 150,000 people came through its doors.  In 2021, that number plunged precipitously to just 26,000.  Of course, the pandemic is only partially responsible for its demise.  Equally responsible are those in power in New York City and the State of New York who have allowed this to happen to this wonderful little museum, which was created by the September 11th Families Association, a not-for-profit whose mission is beautifully described here.  The Museum's purpose was a laudable one: 

The 9/11 Tribute Museum conveys an understanding of the humanity and community that was both lost and found in the aftermath of 9/11.  Throughout the 9/11 Tribute Museum, visitors are engaged in appreciating the scope and impact of the disaster as well as the enormous outpouring of compassion in response.  By sharing with visitors the authentic experiences of those most affected by the events, exhibits and programs convey the courage, loss, heroism, and grief of those who responded to the tragedy. 

Active recording, preserving and sharing of these experiences are central to the mission of the 9/11 Tribute Museum.  Participation in the Tribute volunteer program has had a documented impact on members of the 9/11 community; promoting an enhanced sense of healing, enhanced compassion and appreciation for their place as history keepers. 

And now, incredibly it is the 9/11 Tribute Museum that is history.  Jennifer Adams-Webb, the Museum's co-founder and CEO of the September 11th Families Association, told the New York Post, "We need the state or the city to step in with other partners to be able to say, 'We value you.  We want to save this organization,' but at this point, we can't continue to dig into a hole." 

Nor should they have had to do so.  

-AK 

Whitney Clark and the Footsteps She Follows

Middlesex Borough September 11 Memorial

as seen on August 16, 2022

Twenty-five days from today marks the 21st anniversary of the September 11 attacks.  Twenty-one years.  

In the case of Whitney Clark, the September 11 attacks occurred a lifetime ago.  Figuratively and literally.  She is the second-born child of Lisa Clark and Thomas R. Clark, born approximately a year and a half after her big brother, Matthew.  She was just seven months young when her dad was murdered on that terrible Tuesday morning twenty-one Septembers ago.  He was a Vice-President at Sandler O'Neill & Partners and he was in his office on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.  He was only thirty-seven years old.  

"T.C." - as his friends and family called him - was a proud graduate of the University of Richmond and a member of the Class of 1986.  A history major and a member of Phi Delta Theta, he made an indelible impression on practically every other Spider who knew him.  

And on one who was deprived of the chance to do to.  

Whitney Clark is a senior this year at University of Richmond.  She is a member of the Class of '23.  She is a Spider wth the heart of a lion - a young woman who specifically selected Richmond so that she could follow in her dad's footsteps.  I cannot recommend enough that you set aside the time today necessary to read this profile of her, which was published last year on the 20th anniversary of the September 11 attacks. 

Her dad was one of four University of Richmond alumni murdered on September 11.  Each of the four is memorialized in his own bench located on campus in the Gumenick Quadrangle.  

Photo Credit:  University of Richmond

(c) University of Richmond

Life has treated Whitney Clark anything but fairly.  A little girl should not have the father who adored her torn from her when she was just seven months old.  Yet that is precisely what happened.  It happened, of course, not just to Whitney Clark but to far too many children becuase of the acts of those murderous cowards twenty-one years ago.  But rather than descend into a spiral of "woe is me", Whitney Clark has embraced her life and, in the course of doing so, has embraced her father's legacy.  

Methinks that no matter where she goes or what she does, the dad with whom she was given far too little time, is right there with her, watching her as she goes, and smiling.   

-AK 

Hope Floats

A nickel’s worth of insight for the first day of the second half of August as I for one wonder where the hell the summer has gone…

…be careful out there.

-AK

Gorgeous Days

This weekend reinforced my belief that weather has no memory.  The sauna that New Jersey has resembled most of this summer was replaced (for how long of course is anyone’s guess) by back-to-back-to-back simply gorgeous days…

…simply gorgeous. 

-AK

Time Well Spent

Sunrise as seen from the 7th Avenue Beach

Normandy Beach - Friday August 12.

Yesterday, I did something I have not done in a long time.   I took the day off.   I spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing related to work.  Nothing. 

It was glorious.  

Margaret and I spent most of the day with Rob and our two beautiful Colorado granddaughters on the beach in Point Pleasant Beach.  

It was one hell of a day.   

-AK

A Reason to Believe

After slightly more than three weeks, beginning on July 18 when we were assigned out to Judge Rivas, the trial that detonated a hand grenade in the middle of my summer ended on Wednesday.  It was a hard-fought, well-tried case that ended in our clients’ favor.  When it was over, truthfully, I was more relieved than I was elated.  

As someone whose IT skills are, well, laughable I was fortunate that during the protracted period of time that New Jersey courts were trying cases exclusively via Zoom I never had to try one.  Cases are to be tried in the courtroom, live and in person.  Period.   Call me a dinosaur if you wish but I offer no apology.  

It was a pleasure to spend the past several weeks in the company of excellent attorneys, both on my side of the courtroom and on the plaintiffs’ side.  The plaintiffs’ attorney was a classmate of mine at Seton Hall Law School three-plus decades ago.  He is now as he was then, a credit to our profession in terms of his legal skills and, moreover, in terms of his humanity.  We need more attorneys like John.  Hell, we need more people like John.  

It had been close to five years since I had last tried a case and it felt good to get back into the courtroom and back at it.  I am - at best - a decidedly mediocre human being.  The ability to try a case just might be the thing I do best.  Admittedly the list of things I do well is a very, very short one.  

Rhetorical question:  Can a list contain only one item?  Asking for…

…never mind.  

-AK

Sixty-Two

Mom died sixty-two months ago today.  She is missed every day. 

Some days even more than others. 

-AK