I was there 9-11. I had been to Manhattan three times in my life, once was 9-11. It was a profound experience for all Americans, the whole world for that matter, but being there as an "out of towner," was astonishing. Nothing will ever be the same, was the collective phase we heard over and over again. At first it was a global utterance, and then as survivors, we looked at how this affected us personally. Our family, friends, and home were looked at through the eyes of, "there, but for the grace of God."

All flights were cancelled. Accesses to and from the city were curtailed, leaving many people stranded. The city shut down except for the hotels. Hospitality took on another face. The inhospitable, except to the privileged, became hospitable. The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, the absolute epitome for luxury, and snobbery opened its doors for rescue workers. It was there, I witnessed one of those little moments, within the day that will stay with me forever. A small group of armed officers were reconvening, in the anti-lobby, after a night of rest. They were joking around, and poking fun at one of their companions who had over-slept. And, no wonder, as the men extolled about the elegant lodging, and Oh! those feather beds. They munched, without regard for cost, through the mini bar, to unwind before falling, exhausted into a cloud of feathers. There was no embarrassment, on the part of one officer, in admitting he had engaged in a little jumping up and down on the bed. Probably not the beautiful guests Mr. Astor had envisioned. But, I like to think, at the end of the day, he was proud his hotel had heart.

In the months following the attack, "hearth and home," whether residential or commercial, became upside down. The previously thriving commercial hospitality business became soft. Residential was red hot! Especially flooring, Hickory flooring!