Feeling Comfortable

Yesterday, I decided to attend the Meetup of the Chicago Philosophers Group.  There were a few food-stained, and probably formerly tobacco stained academics; a beautiful young woman with enormously long hair; a Vietnam vet; and enough attractive young men and women to spark my interest.

While chatting with the man next to me, I asked:  "How did you get here?"  (I was thinking: car, train, bus?)  He replied, "In what sense?"

I knew I had found my natural place.

Photo:  Only one guess needed, right?

A 9/11 Story

When my friend Phyllis called, I told her how I remembered right away that she and Camille were vacationing in Paris when the 9/11 attack occurred.  The two were among the many thousands stranded in one place or another as the skies were cleared.  I've heard Phyllis tell about the extra time they spent in France (and the money!). An unforgettable moment.

Today, she added to the story in a poignant way.  During their unexpected stay, Phyllis was determined to track down an artist so she could purchase a poster she loved.  She finally was able to knock on his door and the poster was being secured.  Phyllis said: "What is your name?"  He looked down and quietly said: "I can't tell you."  "Why is that", she replied.  Finally, he whispered: "Because my name is Mohammed." 

"Oh," she cried.  "That's okay.  You must not be ashamed."  And, she gave him a hug.  The next time I'm over at Phyllis' house, I want to take a look at the "9/11 Poster."  It is signed by the artist.