The State Fair 2025 Edition

I've never read anything in National Geographic that made me laugh, have you?

Well here's a first, and while it's a little early to think about state fairs which in the Carolina's happen about the same time baseball gets interesting (October 16-26, 2025 Raleigh and October 8-19, 2025 Columbia) this is funny enough to pass along now.

The Ten Chief Joys of the State Fair are:

1. To eat food with your two hands.

2. To feel extreme centrifugal force reshaping your face and jowls as you are flung or whirled turbulently and you experience that intense joyfulness that is indistinguishable from anguish, or (as you get older) to observe other persons in extreme centrifugal situations.

3. To mingle, merge, mill, jostle gently, and flock together with throngs, swarms, mobs, and multitudes of persons slight or hefty, punky or preppy, young or ancient, wandering through the hubbub and amplified razzmatazz and raw neon and clouds of wiener steam in search of some elusive thing, nobody is sure exactly what.

4. To witness the stupidity of others, their gluttony and low-grade obsessions, their poor manners and slack-jawed, mouth-breathing, pop-eyed yahootude, and feel rather sophisticated by comparison.

5. To see the art of salesmanship, of barking, hustling, touting, and see how effectively it works on others and not on cool you.

6. To see designer chickens, the largest swine, teams of mighty draft horses, llamas, rare breeds of geese, geckos, poisonous snakes, a two-headed calf, a 650-pound man, and whatever else appeals to the keen, inquiring minds.

7. To watch the judging of livestock.

8. To observe entertainers attempt to engage a crowd that is moving laterally.

9. To sit down and rest amid the turmoil and reconsider the meaning of life.

10. To turn away from food and amusement and crass pleasure and to resolve to live on a higher plane from now on.

Take In The State Fair With Garrison Keillor it is worth the time to read the whole story as Keillor presented it back in 2009.

9/11 Twenty 24 Years Ago Today

On September 11, 2001 I was thankfully 700 miles away in Charlotte. To this day I’m haunted by this memory.

A few days later a “fax” arrived at my 6100 Fairview Road office. I’ve keep Jay’s letter in my top desk drawer ever since. The date and time notations are for clarity.

Ladder 118 crossing the Brooklyn Bridge

My Memories of the day, September 11, 2001

September 11, 2001 will long be remembered as one of the darkest hours in this country’s history. It should also be remembered as one the brightest as thousands of selfless human beings attempted to save lives and a country rallied around all those that had be affected by the horrific acts of cowards who acted supposedly in the name of God. For me it was a day that I will remember for a lifetime.

I left Charlotte on September 10th with my colleague Courtenay Miller and our client Rich Covelli to travel to NYC. We were scheduled to meet with Moody’s Investor Service and MIBA the following day to discuss our golf pool program. We arrived at Newark Airport on time and were met by Concorde Limo for the short drive into Manhattan. As approached the Holland Tunnel, the skyline of NYC towered in the distance. It is an impressive sight.

SEPTEMBER 10, 2001 12:30 p.m.

We checked into the Marriot Hotel and then met up with our other colleague, Clyde Measey. We grabbed a bite to eat in the Tall Ships restaurant right there in the Marriott. We discussed our presentation and established the three major point to get across to each party the following day. After lunch we all parted company until 5:00 p.m. when we met for drinks before having dinner at Grammercy Tavern (Danny Meyer’s restaurant) at 7:00 p.m.

During the afternoon, I decided to run up to Central Park. Not a smart idea, as it turned out to be a lot farther than I had remembered. After making my way up to the Park. I knew that if I want to get back to the hotel in time for dinner, I had better take a subway or I would never make it back in time. I was sever so proud of myself as I found the E train and took it down to the World Trade Center and walked through the concourse back to the hotel. I showered, changed clothes and met everyone upstairs before departing for the restaurant.

SEPTEMBER 10, 2001 7:00 p.m.

Dinner at Grammercy Tavern was delicious. Each person had something different and each person raved about the food and the service. After consuming too many chocolate desserts, we left and headed back downtown to our hotel. Since it had been raining during our dinner, cads were at a premium and it took us sometime to locate one. Our cab ride was anything but uneventful. The driver was a Colombian woman who declared to all of us that she was a part time cabby and part time drug runner. She told us she would rather be a full time drug dealer but the risk of being put in prison or being wiped out by the drug lords scared her too much. The entire ride back to the hotel she raged on about the United States, its useless attempt to curtail the drug business, its corruption, filth and two-faced policies. While spouting forth and driving, she continually played with her chest under her shirt and kept putting her hand on my leg. Unsetting to say the least. As we approached the hotel she took us in the back way right past the garage entrance to Tower 1. For a moment I remember the bombing eight years ago and wondered to myself if such an event would ever occur again. Little did I know what would occur the following morning?

After several cigars and beers later for the boys (I had another coke) at the Tall Ships bar, we adjourned for the night deciding on the time to meet for breakfast downstairs in the atrium restaurant. We agreed on 8:30 a.m. instead of 8:00 a.m., as we didn’t have our first meeting until 10:00 a.m., and the walk to Moody’s was just four blocks. We all headed to our respective rooms.

SEPTEMBER 10, 2001 10:30 p.m.

Dead tired from my long jog/walk to Central Park, I crashed for the night at around 10:30 p.m. I tossed and turned for the most of the night. I kept thinking it was so strange not to be sleeping well as I had gotten such a work out that afternoon. 

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 6:00 a.m.

I spent several house watching TV and as the sky began to lighten at past six, I arose for the day and showered and watched the morning news.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 8:00 a.m.

I left my room at 8:10 a.m. to meet everyone for breakfast. As I entered the restaurant, I saw Rich sitting on the upper right hand side. He was the only one present as the time. I sat down with Rich and we discussed various topics including the dinner the night before and our strategies for the meeting that day. As the clock approached 8:40 a.m., both Rich and I agreed to go ahead and order and when Courtenay and Clyde joined us they could order then. Our food arrived within minutes and Rich commented to the waiter “What took you so long?” The waiter laughed as it only been 3 or 4 minutes since taking our order and the time the food arrived.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 8:46 a.m.

I had just began to eat my eggs when I heard and felt a huge explosion. Within seconds there was a second blast which was much louder and severe that the first. The impact of this blast knocked me nearly off my chair. Not being able to comprehend what had happened, everyone in the restaurant just looked around in disbelief. Within seconds it became apparent that something horrific had happened as some type of debris began crashing through the restaurant’s glass atrium onto the food and patrons below. Being located on a raised level of the restaurant there was above us a solid ceiling so that no glass was crashing onto our heads. This was not the case for the other patrons and waiters and waitresses, so as debris continued to crash through the roof, chaos broke out.

Those caught under the glass roof began running towards us to seek cover under the ceiling portion of the restaurant and the tables themselves. Rich and I were looking for cover under the tables but the tables were already jammed with wild-eyed panicked screaming patrons.

As fireballs of debris continue to rain down from above, reality hit both Rich and I and we agreed to make a run for it. As we leapt over bewilder, frantic people to make our escape the debris continued to crash through the atrium and just as we made our way to the restaurant’s front door a body came crashing through the roof and landed on the floor just feet from both (of) us. 

As we continued our run, I noticed the people outside the hotel in the open area between the two towers running in all directions. All of them had their arms over their heads and totally panic-stricken looks on their faces. The open area they were running through was strewn with massive amounts of burning debris and what appeared to be a whole bunch of white chalk or dust. (I didn’t realize until later that the “dust” was pulverized concreate.) One frantic man was within feet of the door from the outside into the hotel when he was struck and killed by a falling piece of steel. 

The scene was unimaginable and incomprehensible. I had never seen a person die and after witnessing two people killed within seconds and within several feet of me, my mind became filled with an indescribable sense of terror. I realized that Rich and I were in a run for our own lives. I began praying that I would live so that I could tell my wife, daughters and other family members just how much I loved them. I just kept telling myself, you cannot die; keep going, get out of the building before something else horrendous happens.

Realizing I was in the middle of an enormous unfolding disaster, Rich and I raced through the 2nd floor lobby headed for the stairs that would lead us down to the ground floor lobby of the hotel. As we made our decent down the stairs, there were hundreds of people standing around the door looking confused, crying and screaming and not moving anywhere. Most people appeared to be in total shock and like me unable to comprehend what was truly happening. As Rich and I reached the front door, one of the hotel clerks told us not to leave the building. Another police officer said it was safer to stay inside. I wasn’t listening. My only thought at the moment was to get the hell out of the building because the building was located on top of the World Trade Center garage and basement and maybe there was another bomb about to go off. So Rich and I raced out of the doors and what we saw next caused us both to stop dead in our tracks.

From the top of the front steps of the Marriott Hotel the landscape had been transformed into what I imagine the surface of the moon to look like. The road, the sidewalks, the signs, the cars, the cabbies and just about everything you could see in front of you was covered with a layer of grayish white dust. Scattered among the dust were burning fragments of paper, steel, clothing and body parts. The entire area looked like a war zone. As I regained my mental capacity, I told Rich to follow me and we began to run across the northbound lanes of West Street.  As we cleared the median separating the north and southbound lanes, I noticed that all of the cars on the street were scattered around facing in all different directions and of the windshields of these cars were shattered. AS we ran across the southbound lanes we came within feet of a white car that was no longer headed southbound but instead had crashed headfirst into the median on the right hand side of the southbound leans. Its driver was no longer living as his head was hanging out the driver’s side of the car blood was gushing from the side of his head.

As we continued in the direction of the Merrill Lynch building, One Financial Plaza, the carnage scattered about was numbing. I still did not realize what had happened, as I had not yet looked behind me back in the direction of the Trade Center. When we reached the corner of the Financial Plaza (approximately 150 feet from the entrance to the Marriot Hotel) Rich and I both stooped running to catch our breath and re-orient ourselves to the situation around us. It was at this point that I look east back toward the Marriot and saw for the first time the inferno that was raging 80 floors up in North Tower (Tower 1).  I remember thinking, oh my God how are the ever going to put that fire out.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 9:02 a.m.

I still did not know what had caused the fire. I thought it might have been a bomb, a transformer blowing up, a plane off course, etc.  I had no idea it had been a terrorist attack nor did those around me. The scene for that moment was one of total pandemonium. People were screaming, crying, shaking and holding each other. Rich and I kept saying to each other, “we’re okay”, “we’re oaky” but then it hit us both that we did not know where Courtenay and Clyde were at the time of the explosion and we wanted to find them right away. To help locate them, we decided to stay close to the Merrill Lynch building in hopes that we would catch a glimpse of them leaving the building and call to them to come join us until the crisis subsided.

While standing watching the entrance to the hotel, Rich was able to call his wife on his cell phone and leave her a message. He told her “the World Trade Center was on fire. Jay and I are okay. We don’t know where Courtenay and Clyde are but we assume they are fine too. Please call Suzanne, Jay’s wife and let her know he is okay”.

As we stood taking in the situation unfolding around us, emergency vehicles began arriving at the scene and the police were in an orderly fashion pushing people back across the street towards the Hudson River to make room of the emergency response teams. As help arrived at the ground level, all Hell was breaking lose in the North Tower (Tower Number 1). Those desperate folks trapped in the burning tower were screaming for help. They were waving towels, clothes and any other object they could use to draw attention to themselves. Despite their frantic scream for help, no one was able to reach them and many were left with only one option: jump or suffer a worse fate. It was impossible to believe but out of sheer desperation and agony person after person leapt from the top floors to their death. As each one jumped people on the ground began screaming and sobbing. <y emotions were reeling. At one moment I felt helpless, another a coward – I should go help, another moment sick to my stomach and still another this is a horrible nightmare and O am going to wake up soon. I truly did not know what to do, where to go or what was going to happen next. I feared for my own life and wanted desperately to be home with Suzanne, Lauren and Sarah. I also wanted to find my friend Courtenay.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 9:03 a.m.

As my mind and emotions attempted to create some rational thought process, my whole being was shattered to the core as I dead a deafening roar and then looked up to see what speared to be a tail of either a plane, or a missile slam into the South Tower. The blast was deafening and the heat emitted from the explosion could be felt on our faces – we were that close to the blast. At this point I knew the city was under attack and I was scared to death. I did not know what to do or where to go. Rich and I just started running away from The South Tower towards the Hudson River. I wanted to get away from any building because I didn’t know which building was going to be hit next.

As we ran to the river, I dropped Rich’s cell phone. Desperation set in. I had lost the only thing that could give us access at some point to our loved ones. Luckily some nice guy picked it up and delivered it back to me and Rich reassembled the phone.

As we regrouped along the riverfront adjacent to the marina, I know our next route of escape was going to have to be to jump into the river. I told Rich about the current and looked for a piling that we could each hold onto should it ever become necessary. I figured the water would protect us from any flames.

After several minutes of no further attacks, I began to develop our game plan of how to get out of the city. I told Rich that we needed to make our way north. By going north, we would avoid being scattered with more debris as the prevailing winds that day were from the north. We thought about taking the ferry across the Hudson River to New Jersey but decided against is as we realized that brought us closer to Newark Airport and all those people trying to find rides out of the metro area. I decided at that point to attempt to make to MetroNorth at 125th street. I believed if we made it there we could get a train to White Plains and pick up a rental car and drive back to Charlotte and Hilton Head. I did not want to go to Grand Central because I wasn’t sure whether or not is was open or in fact whether is was the target of another attack.

Agreeing on moving north, Rich and I made our way around the marina. We were on the southern side of the marina after our run from the second explosion so moving north meant moving close to the Marriot hotel before being able to move further away. Rich was a little apprehensive about getting close to another tall building but we moved anyway. As we were making these decisions, we were continually attempting to make voice contact via cell phone with Bridget to check on the status of Courtenay and to notify our loved ones that we were still okay. 

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 9:59 a.m.

As we made our way to the northern edge of the marina, I heard another horrific blast and looked in the direction of the noise. What I thought I saw I could not comprehend…. The shell of the South Tower was peeling away from the core of the building and the floors were crumbling into each other like dominoes. The roar became a 100-foot high wall of glass, steel, pulverized concrete and paper and this wall of debris was rushing toward us at an ungodly pace. In a split second we knew we had to run to get out of the way the crashing building.

Rich and I both took off running parallel to the Hudson River as the cloud got closer and closer over our right shoulders. As we ran we lost view of each other as you had to watch your step so as not fall over those that had fallen, those that had had a heart attack or those there were suffering from asthmatic attacks. After running until I could run no longer, (I had run out of sidewalk and there was nowhere else to run except to jump into the river in front of me), I stopped to check out my situation. Fortunately for me the majority of the cloud had continued to move westward and not northward. That meant the cloud around me was just the peripheral edge of the cloud and not the black cloud which enveloped the area right behind me. As I looked behind me I saw the cloud race out into the river to the shoreline of New Jersey. In its wake, there was debris everywhere and hundreds of people dazed and confused and covered with ash and soot. Many more were floating in the river, either forced in by the blast or there by their own accord. No matter where you looked there were faces filled with total disbelief, fear and terror.  

While standing at the corner of the sidewalk and river, I frantically began searching for Rich among the thousands of other people that surrounded me. I knew Rich was as panicked as me and I knew we were much better together than apart. He was after all not only my client but my friend. After a few silent prayerful seconds, I spotted Rich and yelled to him. He heard me and we were once again reunited to continue together this horrendous ordeal.

We both looked at each other in total disbelief. Did we just see what we saw? It could not be. The South Tower did not just implode in less than 15 seconds. It just could not have happened!

Stunned and dazed, Rich and I continued to attempt to walk north. By this time, we were in a massive crowd of equally dazed and frightened people. No one could process the magnitude of the disaster and no one wanted to attempt to comprehend how many innocent lives had been lost in the rubble. 

As we made our way back towards West Street, I could see for the first time, the impact side of the North Tower and the continuing inferno that rage from the upper floors. The devastation was more severe that I had thought and I then knew the inevitable – the North Tower was going to collapse as well. My thoughts continued to be with those trapped on those upper floors. It was incomprehensible to imagine their suffering or fate. It was unimaginable that another “human” could have done this to thousands of innocent people.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 10:28 a.m.

Before I had time to think anymore, The North Tower began to sink into itself.  It occurred with the same noise, cloud and chaos that had accompanied the first collapse. But this time you were able to see that the tower was collapsing into itself and falling straight down. This was evidenced by the descent of the radio tower which had once stood on top of the building. The radio tower fell straight down and never toppled over. Once again, my mind was reeling with feeling of total and complete denial and fear. Who could have ever imagined that within two hours the world’s largest buildings would have been reduced to a pile of burning rubble? Who could have imagined that thousands of innocent people would lie dying or dead underneath this rubble? I couldn’t comprehend any of it and I simple muttered, Oh my God, Oh my God.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 10:15 a.m.

It was now 10:15 a.m. and I was consumed with trying to reach Suzanne by phone. Rich’s phone did not work and there were not any land lines out on the where we had run to escape the masses. While mingling around looking in the direction of where the two towers used to stand, we were once again assaulted with a thunderous roar overhead. People ducked, jumped and screamed. We all thought it was another place headed for yet another landmark building in NYC. It was not. It was rather the roar of the engines of a United States Air Force F16. I have never been so relieved to hear the words “those are our guys. That’s the United States Air Force. It’s all okay.” You wanted to believe the words, but I really didn’t know if it was “all okay.” Who knew if there was another onslaught of planes inbound for another part of the city? What we did know is that we wanted to distance ourselves from the area as quickly as possible.  

We began our trek north towards 125th street walking up West Street along the riverfront. We were two of thousands doing the same thing. What struck me at this point in the nightmare was the total calmness of those around us. There were hundreds of thousands of people just walking in an orderly fashion, one foot after another. The screaming and crying had subsided. In its place was the constant piercing sirens of police, fire and other rescue vehicles. 

Rich and I agreed we wanted to get away from the masses so we crossed over the northbound lanes and headed north on a road in from the West Side Drive. We stopped for a bottle of water to quench our parched mouth and throats. Unfortunately the first place was without any more water and it was not until several more blocks that we located a place with water.

We just kept walking, looking for an open landline to call our loved ones. Looking for a chance to make contract with those we knew would be concerned. This is where I realized the old saying was true; "sometimes it is easier to be the patient than the bystander.” Each phone we approached had ten or more people waiting and those on the phone didn’t appear to be having short conversations. So we pushed on. 

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 11:00 a.m.

Finally at approximately 11:00 a.m. I was able to find a landline and call collect to Bridget in Charlotte. I knew Suzanne wasn’t home and I knew Bridget could try lots of phone numbers and not disconnect me. So I called Bridget. The joy and relief I felt when I finally got through was overwhelming. I knew now that no one would have to worry any longer because Bridget would be able to track Suzanne down and tell her that I was okay. I cried when I heard Bridget’s voice and she told me that Courtenay and Clyde had called in and they were okay too. When Bridget tied in Suzanne and I heard her voice, my adrenaline stopped momentarily, and I couldn’t do anything but weep.

After regaining composure, Suzanne and I talked briefly and then I returned to my number one mission: get the hell out of the city.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 1:00 p.m.

Rich and I continued by foot northbound. We stopped at a little after one o’clock at an open air-restaurant to grab another water or possible something to eat. We were able to find a table inside and see for the first time with our own eyes exactly what had happened. The restaurant had at least six tv’s on the walls and every station had another tape of the actual place going into the second tower. I remember thinking, this is not possible. You are having the worst nightmare of your life. You are going to wake up and some director is going to yell, “cut”. Nothing in my life had prepared me for the four hours I had just experienced. 

After a bite or two of a grilled chicken sandwich, conversations with perfect strangers and a hug from one of the strangers we deiced to push on. We attempted to hail a cab but to no avail. No cabby was taking new passengers. The street below 50th street were being left open for emergency vehicles. At this point we had 100 blocks to go (5 miles). So we continued to move north.

By this time, Rich’s expensive dress shoes had given him blisters and he had resorted to putting napkins inside his socks as to give his feet some relief from the pain. We both agreed this pain was far less than the being suffered by so many behind us at the World Trade Center so we stopped talking about the discomfort and pushed on.

At 79th Street we spotted a host of rental car locations. My heart seemed, for the first time in six house, to leap for joy. Maybe just maybe they would have a car and we could high tail it up the West Side Drive and get out of NYC?  Rich headed towards Hertz and I headed toward National. To our surprise and utter disappointment and frustration, no one had a car to rent us. Each attendant had the same answer; “I’m sorry. There isn’t a car left in NYC.” Words we dreaded to hear. Crestfallen, we each looked at each other and knew we only had one alternative; keep walking.

By 86th Street, Rich was really in great pain. We needed a ride to 125th Street or find a shoe store where we could replace our dress shoes with sneakers. We looked up and down block after block but no store was open. Every store had closed for the day and stores were now behind those metal gates used to keep the masses out at night. Up to this point I had not noticed this fact before. But as I looked around, it appeared that the majority of the city had closed and the city had become a ghost town. No wonder there weren’t any rental cars.

We keep walking. By the time we had made it to 90th and Broadway, Rich said he just couldn’t go any further and he would find us a ride from one of those “assholes” who were heading north and had not stopped to help us. Rich stood at the intersection of 90th and Broadway and asked several cars for a ride. It was not until a Porky’s meat truck stopped at that the light did Rich have any success. The truck driver agreed to take us to 125th and we both hopped up into the cab and shared one seat all the way to 125th. Despite one seat and jarring from each little bump, the ride beat walking and neither one of even thought of complaining. It was in fact the first time I smiled or laughed that day. 

At 125th, the truck driver let us off. We offered him $50.00 but he refused it. He told us no and said he was only too glad to help us given what we had been through that day. We thanked him profusely and he said God Bless you. It was yet another time that I cried as his simple act of kindness restored my belief in humanity and a part of my broken heart. 

I thought when the driver left us that we were at the metro north station. Oh how wrong was I. We were on 125th but clear across on the opposite side of 125th for the station. So we had yet another mile plus to go to reach the train. Rich still needed sneakers so we found “Harlem Sneakers” and we each purchased a pair. What a sight we must have been with both of us in business attire except for me in my black and red Nikes and Rich in his gray and silver Air Jordan’s.

We finally reached the station, waited several minutes and boarded the Harlem Division for the ride up to North White Plains. We sat down for the first time in five hours and oh how good it felt. As we rounded the bend on the train and began to cross over the Harlem River, I could still see the smoke billowing from lower Manhattan. It hit home once again. We had been spared from a horrific disaster. God had spared our lives and those of Courtenay and Clyde. Why? Why were we the lucky ones and yet so many other, thousand perhaps, were not so lucky. I couldn’t comprehend it and I couldn’t think about it anymore because I was exhausted both physically and mentally. It did not stop the guilt though as I sat in the air-conditioned comfort of the soft train seat. 

We arrived at the Bronxville station and got off. We looked for a place to grab another water and a phone booth once again to call our loved one and let them know of our status. We were able to find a phone and I called home. I talked for the first time to my oldest daughter Lauren. Her voice sounded so good that it took me a couple of seconds of tears and silence to continue the conversation. Lauren used her cell phone to call and make us reservation at the Rye Town Hilton. When she had them confirmed, we hung up and Rich and I hailed a cad and dove to the hotel.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 6:05 p.m.

Upon arriving at the Rye Town Hilton, we were told there was only one room available but once we explained what we had been through, the nice clerk gave us each a room. After checking in we went to the gift shop and both purchased a pair of swim trunks, t-shirts and some toiletries. We agreed to meet back in the bar area after getting a shower and making some calls. I was able to talk to Suzanne, Lauren Sarah, my parents, brother and sister, and my in-laws Janet and Cowles, It was so comforting to hear each one of their voices and know that within a short time I would be able to be re-united with all of them. 

SEPTEMBER 12, 2001 8:00 a.m.

The next day Chip came to meet Rich and me for breakfast. What a sight for sore eyes and what a joy to be able to hug him. It was what I now know was the beginning of the healing process. We ate together and then Chip took us to the North White Plains train station to rent a car. We left with our new red Trans AM car for the long journey back to Charlotte and then Hilton Head for Rich. A long hug good-bye, some tears and laughter and we were off on our 675-mile trek south.

SEPTEMBER 12, 2001 10:00 a.m.

The car ride was filled with emotion as Rich and I both grappled with the disaster and the events of the prior day. I remember crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge and looking south to the city and seeing the smoke still hovering over the tip of Manhattan. The sight sent chills though my body and a renewed fear that something still might happen. I accelerated faster over the bridge and remember breathing a sigh of relief as we cleared the expanse. Now it was only a matter of hours until I was able to wrap my arms around Suzanne and the girls.

As we drove south, I remember day dreaming. My mind was filled with the anguish of what I had witnessed the prior day. My emotions ranged from rage to utter devastation for the families that had lost their loved ones. I kept asking why? Why in a world like ours could such a horrendous act occur? How could God have allowed this to happen? Slowly but surely it became a little clearer. God didn’t have a hand in this act of terror. 

He was probably feeling the same sense of sadness that we all were feeling. He was probably thinking, how in the world could one of His children have done such a thing? That realization gave me a great feeling of comfort but I continued to prat that my own desire for retribution and hatred toward he cowards who carried out these acts would subside in time.

The drive was long and arduous. The car was silent for long periods of time and then at others there were expressions of anger, pain, anguish and joy. The emotions ran the gamut; tears, smiles, laughter and silence.

September 12, 2001 9:15 p.m.

We finally made it home to Charlotte at around 9:15 p.m. I dropped Rich off at his son’s house and watched as Rich hugged his son Tom. It was a reunion of father and son and such a joyous one at that. I lingered for only a short time as I longed to be doing the same thing with Suanne, Lauren and Sarah.

September 12, 2001 9:25 p.m.

I arrived home at 9:25 p.m. and found the back door locked so I rang the bell. I didn’t have any keys as they were in the rubble of the disaster in NYC. I heard Lauren’s voice and I began to cry. I will never forget how good it was to wrap my arms around her when she opened the door and then to be able to do that two more time with Sarah and Suzanne.

That night I lay awake thanking God for all that He had given me. For my safety; the love of my family; the love of friends and colleagues; my life and for being an American. I had a lot to be thankful for and this event reconfirmed to me those blessings thousands of time over.

As I regain the normalcy back into my life, I continue to mourn like all Americans and God fearing people across this world. I have confidence in mankind and know that good will eventually win out over evil. I still cannot fully process the carnage I witnessed on September 11th. But I can share with other the heroism of other human beings as I witnessed many selfless people attempt to save the lives of other human beings. The memories and the love of my family and friend that I cling to and it is this type of goodness that I cherish most about this glorious country we all call America. 

As that wonderful song says, “I am proud to be an American” and I know America and all of its people have the might and strength to recover from this tragedy and eventually triumph over evil.

Jay

CP Foot Notes:

2,606 people in the Twin Towers including 343 firefighters and 71 NYPD and Port Authority Police officers perished more than 5,500 were injured.

A total of 2,977 deaths and more than 6,000 injured including the Pentagon and Shanksville Pennsylvania crash. 

The 19 hijackers are currently standing at the gates of hell denied entry to their promised paradise YES even hell won’t take them.  

In 2001 not everyone had a cellphone and yes there were payphones all over New York. 

Today there are more 10x the Uber and Lyft drivers than Yellow Taxi Cabs.

The 2001 Trans AM was an awesome car.

Harlem Sneakers on 125th Street is now Sneaker Den 

Porky’s Trucks both “Box” and “18 Wheelers” still roll along the streets of NYC.

Rich Covelli is now is his mid 70’s and lives at Lake Norman. He ran C2 Advisors and Pension Advisory Group which closed in 2018.

Courtenay Miller is still active in the business and is with Park Avenue Securities a division of Consolidated Planning.

Clyde Measey is with Fifth Third Bank at the time he was director of development with Golden Bear International. He resigned from Golden Bear September 2001. 

Jay I’ve lost touch with.

I left the investment business in 2008 selling my firm to Dunn and Bradstreet in the spring of that year. 

Firefighters Vernon Cherry, Leon Smith, Joey Agnello, Robert Regan, Pete Vega, and Scott Davidson rode Ladder 118 fire truck to ground zero all would parish when the south tower collapsed.

Why I'm Cautious Around Horse Girls

I see a lot of stuff about how hard it is to date in the post COVID world.

I get it there's a lot of pressure to be something you're not to get the guy or the girl of your dreams. Yep its hard to meet nice people, add the gender questions and the political divide it has got to be crazy frustrating.

Mrs. Cedar is my 3rd wife so I've been there.

When I was young I was totally into the horse girl who lived down the street. She was a dark haired beauty with blues eyes and her school supplies were always on display. I would have done anything for her, just to hang out together.

In high school I had a Toyota Pre-Runner pickup truck and as it turned out it was a great ride for the 16 year old horse girl tired of riding her bicycle to the nearby stable. It was a perfect match and I was locked in on my new found target.

I helped her wash her horses and clean the stalls. shovel manure, dress tack and stack bales of hay, I would do anything she'd ask.

And then about 2 weeks into a evolving romantic relationship one of her male horses decided to "drop" which is a nice way of saying show his monster dick to the world.

At first she hit it with a nearby bucket but the "thing" just got bigger and so she smacked it with a broom finally she picked up her riding crop and wacked that horse pecker a dozen times all the while telling the poor horse how gross he was.

And in that moment God presented me with "an epiphany' it was a sudden and profound realization, best described as an "a-ha!" moment.

She was the girl from that Dierks Bentley music video "Becky" and yep what was I thinking?

So God Made a Dog

And on the 9th Day

God looked down on his wide-eyed children and said they need a companion.

So, God made a Dog

 

God said I need somebody to wake up and give kisses, pee on a tree, sleep all day, wake up again, give more kisses, and then stay up till midnight basking in the glow of the television set.

So, God made a Dog

 

God said I need somebody willing to sit, then stay, then roll over then with no ego or complaint, to dress in hats they do not need and costumes they do not understand.

I need somebody who can chase tails, carry sticks and lift spirits with a lick.

Somebody no matter what you didn’t do, or couldn’t take, or didn’t win, or couldn’t make will love you without judgment just the same.

So, God made a Dog

 

God said I need somebody strong enough to pull sleds and find bombs, yet gentle enough to love babies and lead the blind.

Somebody who will spend all day on a couch with the resting head and supportive eyes to lift the spirits of a broken heart.

So, God made a Dog

  

It had to be somebody who would remain patient and loyal even thru loneliness.

Somebody to care, cuddle, snuggle and nuzzle, cheer and charm and snore and slobber and eat the trash and chase the squirrels.

Somebody who would bring a family together with selflessness of an open heart.

Somebody who would bark, and then pant, and then reply with the rapid wag of tail when their best friend says let’s go for a ride in the car.

So, God made a Dog

 

God said I need somebody who would stand at your side when the world around you collapses. 

Somebody to lie next to you during the long nights of pain and sorrow when it hurts to move, or talk, or think, or be. 

Somebody to stand guard, play games, snore for hours, and repeat as needed. 

Somebody to give you strength when you have none of your own.

Somebody to fight when you have no fight left, to hold onto your soul as if it were their favorite toy, playing tug of war to keep you in this world. 

Somebody to be your companion and guide in this world and the next.

Somebody to wait for you on the other side or stand guard in your absence until they can join you for eternity.

So, God made a Dog

 

Paul Harvey

(While inspired by Paul Harvey's "God made a farmer" speech the dog version is just a heartfelt tribute to man's best friend and one of the nation's greatest radio voices and commentators.)  Good Day.

Cool Hand Luke - Night In The Box My Dog Version

One of my top ten favorite movies is Cool Hand Luke.

"When petty criminal Luke Jackson (Paul Newman) is sentenced to two years in a Florida prison farm, he doesn't play by the rules of either the sadistic warden (Strother Martin) or the yard's resident heavy, Dragline (George Kennedy), who ends up admiring the new guy's unbreakable will. Luke's bravado, even in the face of repeated stints in the prison's dreaded solitary confinement cell, "the box," make him a rebel hero to his fellow convicts and a thorn in the side of the prison officers." - IMDB

A Night in the Box: 

Carr (Clifton James) catches sight of Luke's (Paul Newman) defiant personality during his recitation of prison camp rules on the first day of Luke's prison stint.

Thus begins the story of Cool Hand Luke. 

So, much to the dismay of Mrs. Cedar I've adapted Carr's prison rules to remind our two Labrador Retrievers, Scout and Buddy what is expected of them:

Them collars are yours, on the collar is your name, remember your name and come when called, and always wear the ones that has your name. Any dog forgets his name and doesn't come when called spends the night in the box.

These here are your bowls, you keep your nose outa other dogs bowls. Any dog eating from another dog’s bowl spends a night in the box.

There's no running' in the house or butt sniffing in the house'. You got a grudge against another dog, you roll em in the yard when no one is looking! Any dog running, butt sniffing or fightin' in the house spends a night in the box.

First bell is at 5 minutes of 8:00, when you will get in your bed. Last bell is at 8:00. Any dog not in his bed at 8:00 spends a night in the box.

There's no digging in the garden. To dig, you must have all four paws in the yard and not in the garden. Any dog caught digging ' in the garden spends a night in the box.

Dogs will not get on the human’s bed with dirty paws. Any dog with dirty paws on the human’s bed spends a night in the box.

Any dog don't bring their toys back in the house and leaves them in the yard spends a night in the box.

Dogs will poop in the pine straw, any dog poopin on the golf course or the garden path spends a night in the box.

Any dog loud-barkin' in the house spends a night in the box.

You got questions? You come to me. I'm Carr, the floor-walker. I'm responsible for order in here. Any dog don't keep order spends a night in --

Luke: the box.

This is all the funnier to me because the neighbor's Yellow Lab is named "Luke".

Who Do You Cheer For? Football 2025!

A few years back my sister was invited to a Birmingham Alabama wedding. 

Weddings in the "New South" are as grand as ever, always big, lavish and very southern. Our family has deep southern roots, so as you would expect my sister felt quiet at home amongst the many strangers.

The wedding took place during football season so the topic quickly veered from the bride who the women described as "elegant" to the groom which they called "scrumptious" and then on to football.

"Lisa, who do you cheer for?" Asked one of my sister's tablemates.

"Well I graduated from Chapel Hill and my husband from Mississippi State …." she started to answer.

The tablemate interrupted her, "I mean who do YOU CHEER for?"

My sister continued, "Well the Tar Heels are pretty good but...."

The tablemate now rolling her eyes with a nod of exasperation, "I'm sorry darling, perhaps you didn't understand. I meant in football! Who do you cheer for in football?"

You see in Birmingham there are only two answers, because there are only two teams that matter and you're either on one side or the other.

 Alabama or Auburn.

The 405 Classic

Giving away my age, but this "short" posted on random sources and outlets little more than a year before 9/11 was epic.

MySpace, Facebook and Youtube and in that order changed everything.

Widely considered the first viral video of the internet age, 405 was released in June of 2000. 

By the end of it's first week, 405's creators, Jeremy Hunt and Bruce Branit were caught up in a media frenzy. 

In the days before internet video streaming and 5 years before Youtube, 405 amassed hundreds of millions of views, network broadcasts and landed Bruce and Jeremy with agents, lawyers and a new company, Strange Engine. 

Best part the use of an American Airlines DC-10 with the last flight just five months later. American Airlines operated 66 DC-10s.

THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW IF YOU MOVE TO THE SOUTH

 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW IF YOU MOVE TO THE SOUTH.

1. A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.

2. There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South.

3. There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before.

4. If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha.

5. Onced and Twiced are words.

6. It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy!

7. Jawl-P? means: Did you all go to the bathroom?

8. People actually grow, eat, and like okra.

9. Fixinto is one word. It means I'm going to do something.

10. There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there's supper.

11. Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South.

12. Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you.

13. The word jeet is actually a question meaning, 'Did you eat?'

14. You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see.

15. You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em.

16. Y'all is singular. All Y'all is plural.

17. All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal.

18. You carry jumper cables in your car for your OWN car.

19. You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Cajun seasoning, Tabasco, and ketchup.

20. The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports, motorsports, and gossip.

21. Everyone you meet is a Honey, Sugar, Miss (first name), or Mr (first name)

22. You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.

23. You know what a hissy fit is.

24. Fried catfish is the other white meat.

25. We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!!

26. You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the South.

AND one more:

27. Why did the chicken cross the road? To show that stupid possum that it CAN be done!

The Castellows - Hurricane

30 miles off the Gulf Stream, I hear the south wind moan

Bridges gettin' lower, the shrimp boats coming home

But the old man down in the Quarter slowly turns his head

Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle and this is what he said

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain

Underneath the Louisiana moon

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June

The high black water, the devil's daughter

She's hard, and she's cold and she's mean

But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water

To wash away New Orleans

A man came down from Chicago, he's gonna set that levee right

He said, "It needs to be at least three feet higher

Or it won't make it through the night"

But the old man down in the Quarter

Said, "Don't you listen to that boy

The water it'll be down by the morning, and he'll be back to Illinois"

And I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain

Underneath the Louisiana moon

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June

The high black water, the devil's daughter

She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans

30 miles off the Gulf Stream, I hear the south wind moan

Bridges gettin' lower, the shrimp boats coming home

But the old man down in the Quarter slowly turns his head

Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle and this is what he said

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain

Underneath the Louisiana moon

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June

The high black water, the devil's daughter

She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean

But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water

To wash away New Orleans

And I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain

Underneath the Louisiana moon

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June

The high black water, the devil's daughter

She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean

But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water

To wash away New Orleans

And nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water

To wash away New Orleans

Morin Family of Maine a Short History

Years ago I was given a document that was several pages in length. I glanced at it for an instant and found it mildly interesting with the intent to read with concentration, at some point. 

As it seems to go in life, things set aside are soon forgotten. 

But it was given to me with a purpose in that it served as a baseline of my wife's family history. It would be ten years before I read it again with an understanding of what it represented.

This is my journey as much as it was that of young Laurent Morin who was only 12 at the time he wrote the following in his journal.

Laurent’s Journal

Translated from French and transcribed by Amy Bouchard Morin

The Family is Moving to Maine

The year is 1882 and my name is Laurent (Lawrence) Morin. I am 12 years old. Right now, my home is in Saint Epiphane, a very small village near Riviere du Loup in the province of Quebec in Canada.

But I'm preparing to move to l’etat du Maine dans les Etats Unis (the State of Maine in the United States) with my family.

I am wondering what it will be like to move to a different country. We all speak French in my family, and we do not understand another language. This is the same as everyone in our town. I am told they only speak English in this place where we are moving. How will I make friends? How can I go to school and understand the teacher who will be speaking English? My younger brother Francois (Frank) is afraid the whole family will get lost and that we will not be able to find someone who understands us to help us find our way. But I tell him that Papa says not to worry. There will be other people who have moved to this place from Quebec before us, and they will be able to speak with us and help us get settled.

This is the reason Papa has decided that we need to move. Papa works as a stonemason. He builds foundations and buildings out of stone and brick. There is no work here for him to earn a living and support our large family. In our small village and in all the villages and towns around here there is no work, not just for him but for most of the men in the area.

He has been very worried, but he has been trying to keep it hidden from the children. I have heard him talking with Maman (Mama) in the evenings when he thought all the children were asleep. So, now I have been worrying too.

We are 11 children in our family, and I am the oldest. When you count Maman and Papa that makes 13 people that Papa is trying to support. It is a good thing that we now have a cow and a couple of pigs and some chickens, and that Maman has been growing a big garden for vegetables.

I work hard helping Papa to take care of the animals when I'm not in school. All the children in our family have chores to do. The boys work helping Papa with the animals and outdoor work. The girls help Maman with the housework weeding the garden canning the vegetables when they are ready, and taking care of the babies,

There has been no money for food, so the animals and garden are what is keeping the family alive. Papa has not been able to find work and earn money for clothes or any other things our family needs. Papa heard from one of his friends that there would be a meeting in the town, telling about jobs in les Etats (the States). His friend read about the meeting on a paper tacked to a notice board at the railroad station in town. So, Papa and his friend went to the meeting the other evening with a lot of other men from the village.

There was a man there who came from a town called Old Town in the state of Maine. It was funny that this man could speak French, I thought everyone in the United States spoke English.

The man told them that there was work for everyone who would move to this town. “They are building mills to make shoes and cloth in Old Town”, the man said. They need people to build mills, they need people to work in the new mills and also to work in the mills that are already there. Papa said his ears perked up at that news.

They also need stoneworkers. That means he could find a job right away. Papa told us that there was also a mill that makes paper in this town. That mill needs wood to make papers so there is also work in the woods if the men want to do this to earn money.

Also, the man said there is one area in the town where some people have moved from Quebec are settling. That means there are others in the town who can speak our language.

When Papa came back from the meeting, he and Maman talked a long while about what the man from Old Town said at the meeting. Papa said there was opportunity for him to work. Also, all of us would be able to find work and earn a living as we grew up. Things are not looking so good here in Quebec.

What will the children do when it comes time to find work when even Papa who has a trade cannot do so? Finally, after a lot of talking, Papa convinced Maman that it was too big an opportunity to turn down. Papa went back to Riviere du Loup and talked with a man and found out how he could go about moving our family to this place.

Now he and Maman are packing up everything that we will need to bring us to our new life for our family into wooden boxes and a couple of big brown top trunks. Poor Maman has to think hard about what she will need for this new place to make a home for all of us. It will not be easy to decide what we will bring for 13 people and what we will have to leave behind.

We cannot bring everything since there is only room for necessities. Maman will have to bring pots, pans, dishes, and flatware for the kitchen, sheets, blankets, pillows for the beds, and things she'll need to make and mend clothes (like needles and scissors).

We each have a set of clothes for church and two sets for everyday clothes. So, Maman will have to pack our two sets of everyday clothes. We will be wearing our Sunday-go-to-church clothes on the trip. With so many children clothes are always handed down until they're worn out. Since I'm the oldest boy I'm lucky to get new clothes.

Sometimes my younger brothers grumble about having to wear my old clothes. I hear Maman ask Papa if it snows in Maine, and if she should pack winter coats. There is a lot for her to think about. Papa needs to pack all of his tools for his work. He also needs to sell the animals and things that we cannot bring with us before we leave. This will give him a bit of money to pay for our train tickets and help us get settled in a new place called Old Town.

The town of St. Epiphane and the Catholic Church attended by the Morin family

I wonder, where is Old Town anyway? It must be a really big place to have all that work for people. St. Epiphane is only farms in a tiny village with the general store and the Catholic Church which everyone in the village attends.

If people work other than on the farm, they go to Riviere du Loop which is close by and can be reached by horse.

Yesterday I heard Maman tell Mme. LaRouche our next-door neighbor that if she wanted to take care of the garden, she could have all the vegetables for her family for next winter. Mme. LaRouch was very glad for Maman’s offer.

Papa bought our tickets for the train today and made arrangements for all of our things too. We leave in two days. Today, after I helped Maman pack up some of my things, I took a walk to the village and visited all the neighbors along the way. One of the neighbors was also packing up and will be moving to Old Town, too. They will leave next week so we will get there before them. I'm glad to know that their family would be moving to this place too. At least there will be someone that we know. I wish they would be on the same train with our family. It would be nice to have some familiar faces on the ride.

Oh, I wonder what it will be like in this place where people speak different language. I just thought of this …. I wonder if the food will be different. We are used to Maman’s good French cooking. I suppose we will still find the things she needs to cook the same foods that she cooks here. I hope so. When we arrive, we will not have our animals and garden to give us food. I wonder if this will be a problem.

We leave for the United States

I'm a little bit worried but I'm excited too. Tomorrow morning, we leave for a new home. even a new country. After a busy day of packing all the people in the town came to our house to say goodbye and wish us well. Mr. Bouchard came with his violin and the neighbor ladies brought all kinds of good food. We were thankful for the food because all the pans and dishes are packed away. Maman has some bread and butter saved aside for our breakfast tomorrow before we leave.

After we ate, we had a goodbye party, with Mr. Bouchard playing his jigs and reels. Some people clogged while they sat in their chairs, some played the spoons and some got up and danced,

There was a lot of room to dance finding a common test record cases since most of our belongings are in boxes and piled on the porch and in the parlor. The only things left around would be picked up by their new owners after we leave tomorrow. When it was time for all of our friends to leave, there were hugs all around.

Our neighbor who will be following us next week did not say goodbye. He said, “I will see you in the next week.” And, he told Papa when his train was supposed to arrive in this new town. Papa told him that he would meet his train. After everyone went home it was time for us to go to bed and try to sleep. I have too many questions in my head to sleep. Will someone meet us at the train station? I hope they speak French. Francois (Frank) asked me if we will still be Canadians after we moved to this new place in another country? I don't know the answer, so I will have to remember to ask Papa. Will my brothers and sisters and I find some new friends who can speak French? If we can't life is going to be very difficult for sure.

Where will we go to live, when we get to this new place? I think I heard Papa say that he had made arrangements with a man from the meeting to rent a house. I am too young to understand all these important things, but I guess I am not too young to worry. My younger brothers and sisters are always asking me questions that I can't answer.

Oh well, I know that Papa would not leave here without having a plan. It is hard to get to sleep though with all these things going through my head.

Two of our neighbors arrived early this morning before the sun came up. They had their big wagons pulled by two horses each, and they loaded up all the boxes and trunks in one of the wagons, and our family in the second wagon.

We will miss all our good neighbors and friends. Maman was crying when we drove off, and she watched our house until we went over the hill, and she couldn't see it anymore. Some of the children were crying too, but I wasn't. I am too old to cry, besides this was exciting.

The neighbors whose houses we passed on the way to the station, all came out of their houses and waved and called to us.

“Bonne chance, Jean-Baptiste et Domitilde!”.

Whole families were standing in front of their houses waving. Many of my friends, Mamans were crying too. Francois wants to know why people are crying. I tell him they are sad to see good friends move so far away, and that they are thinking they will never see us again, Now Francois is crying! Papa says for me to stop making Frank (Francois) cry. Heck I was just answering his question.

I keep stretching my neck to see around my brothers and sisters. I want to be the first one to see the train station. This ride to the train in Riviere du Loup seems to take forever. Finally, I can see the station, there is a train at the platform with steam coming out of the engine.

Railroad Station and Locomotive at Riviere du Loup Canada Circa 1890

We drive up to the station platform and our luggage is unloaded into a big pile near a man wearing a uniform who is weighing everything on a big scale.

After everything is weighed, the man calls went Papa over and tells him that he has 50 pounds too much luggage for 13 people. Papa must take 50 pounds of our things and leave them behind!

He tells the neighbor who brought us to the station to wait and he can have whatever we have to leave. Maman cries some more. How can we leave anything behind? We only packed what we absolutely had to have.

I.C.R. Railway Station in Riviere du Loup Canada Circa 1911

After much talk in many tears, we finally have the correct weight for our luggage and the man in the uniform marks all our boxes and trunks and gives Papa a paper. Now we can all get on the train.

Temiscquata Railway Passenger Car Circa 1900

The train has lots of cars. There's an engine and a car with coal, there are six cars to hold people (they call them passenger cars), there are two or three cars to hold boxes and trunks (they are called freight cars) and there's a car at the very end called the caboose.

There are a lot of people on this train. All the passenger cars are pretty much filled up. I can see a group of people that look like families sitting together.

Our family fills a lot of seats on our passenger car. Francois sits right beside me as close as he can get. He is only five years old, and he is a little afraid of all of this. I tell him that I will watch out for him so he shouldn't be afraid. Finally, the train blows its whistle and slowly pulls away from the station. We are on our way to our new life!

This is this is my first train ride. The train goes faster and faster. I have never moved so fast in my life. Our horse couldn't ever go this fast! I watch the fields and buildings fly by the window. If I look straight out things are blurred, so I have to look out the window at an angle. This way I'm looking either ahead to where we are going, or back to see what we already passed. But it doesn't take too long before my eyes start to close.

I'm so tired from not sleeping much last night and all this excitement has worn me out. We make a few short stops along the way and I have little naps between stops. Then the train crosses a river, Papa says the river is the Saint John River. On our side of the river is Canada on the other side is the United States. The river is la frontier (the border). We are now in a place called Maine.

We stopped right after we crossed the river and the man got on the train and walked through the cars asking questions and checking papers. Then the trains started again.

Here is something strange. We're traveling through farmland as far as I can see out my window. The land here doesn't look any different from where we came from, but Papa says we are now in the United States now. Wouldn't you think it would look different in another country? This is one more thing I do not understand. I think I still have a lot to learn.

Oh, my goodness I spoke too soon. I had another nap and when I woke up the train was going through woods. I don't see many farms now. All I can see is trees on either side of the train. Papa says we are in the forest of Maine and that the mills that make paper use trees from the forest. He says that men go into the woods during the winter and cut trees. They live in the woods at camps that the mills build for them about six months of the year. In the spring when the ice in the river melts, the trees are put in the river, and they float down to the mills. then the men can get their wages and come home to their families. This sounds like a lot of lonely, hard work to me. I can't imagine that Papa had to do that work and not be with us for half the year. I'm glad my Papa is a stonemason.

We Arrive in Old Town

We ride through forests or farmland for the rest of the trip, sometimes stopping at small towns that pop up. After awhile I figure out that we will be coming to a town soon when I see farms out of the window. Then before we come to a town a man with the uniform comes through the car he calls out the name of the town. They call him a conductor. He checks people’s tickets when they get on the train. I think I would like to do his job. He gets to ride on the train and meet new people all the time. Every time I see a conductor coming, I listen to hear if he says “Old Town”.

I am watching out the window and see a small town. The train doesn't stop here it goes right on through. We go over a bridge and ride the short way we go over it's another bridge and here comes the conductor saying “Old Town”. “Old Town”. My heart starts to beat faster, and I say to Francois, “We are going to get off”. “We are in Old Town.”

 

Old Town Maine Railroad Station Postcard Circa 1900

The train stops, and we all get off the train stand on the platform with Maman while Papa finds the man with the wagon that he can hire to take us to our new house.

I see Papa take a paper out of his pocket and give it to the man who nods his head. Papa came back and told us that the paper told the man where he needs to take us. I must have missed something because Papa already knows the address where we will live, and it is on an island called Treat and Webster Island.

This is a strange name this island has. It must be an English name. We get into the wagon and off we go. We follow the river and the railroad tracks back to a crossroad and turn right and cross a bridge. 

The railroad bridge that we crossed is right beside this bridge that we are on.

Double Trestle Railroad Bridge Across the Penobscot River 2018

We no sooner cross the bridge than the wagon turns right, and we cross the railroad tracks and climb a very steep hill.

Front Street Entrance to Treat and Webster (French) Island Community 2018

The wagon driver says “Treat and Webster Island” so I know that's where we are now, on the island that we will live.

 

Sign installed in 2014 Treat & Webster Island aka French Island 2018

There are quite a few houses on this island before I can blink my eyes the horses stop in front of a little house. The man said to papa this is our home. Maman is not happy with this little house. She goes from room to room deciding where to put things and sorting out the sleeping arrangement while I go with Papa and the man with the wagon back to the station to pick up our belongings.

When we get back to the station our things are just coming off the freight car. Papa checks his paper and counts all the boxes and things, and we load all our things onto the wagon and return to the house.

We have more help now. All the boys in our family who are big enough to start to unload our belonging from the wagon and put them in the house. It isn't long before some boys from the neighborhood come up and introduce themselves. They pitch in and help us unload wagons. I think I'm making some new friends. The girls help Maman place furniture, unload boxes and find places for things, and watch the youngest children.

After a few hours of hard work, Maman heard a voice call, Bonjour. She went to the door and there were three ladies who are new neighbors. They came to introduce themselves and welcome us to the neighborhood, and they brought some food for our supper.

One of the ladies brought a tourtiere and a dish that Maman called Melange, one brought a une soupe au pois (Pea Soup), and another lady brought had une grosse tarte au pomme (Apple Pie), which was made in a big pan, not a small pie pan. The food is just like what Maman made in Canada.

Everyone is speaking French like us, and we are already starting to feel at home. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all. It will take a few days to settle into the house. Tomorrow Papa is going to town to report for work. He says he will be working on a foundation for a new mill where people will work to make shoes. This is his first job at Old Town and he's looking forward to beginning work in this new country.

 

Treat & Webster (French) Island Old Town, Maine 2009

Epilogue

Papa (Jean Baptiste Morin) and Maman (Domithidle Rose Theriault) would not return to Canada. Maman would instead spend the rest of her life in Old Town Maine, living on French Island raising her many children and making wonderful “une grosse tarte au pomme” (French Apple Pie) in very large cake pans.

Eglise De Saint-Epiphane according to Ovide Morin Jean Baptiste Morin helped build in 1870

Papa as a master mason, would help build hundreds of homes, factories and businesses around Old Town, Bangor and Orono. Including many of the buildings at the University of Maine. In his spare time, he was an expert cobbler making leather moccasins for his children and many friends.

Both Jean and Rose Morin would embrace the American July 4th holiday and celebrate their new United States home, but perhaps wistfully they still hummed "La Marseillaise" the French National anthem while surrounding themselves with the French culture that flourished on French Island.

Much of what young Laurent described in his journal remains today as it was more than 140 years ago.

The trip from Riviere’-du-Loup to Old Town would last nearly 9 hours. It is likely that the Morin family took the Temiscouata Railway which ran on the Canadian Pacific rails and the rails of what would become the BAR (Bangor and Aroostook Railway). They would have passed countless small towns and farms with rich soil. Then crossing the St. John River at St. Leonards, Canada they would then head west and again south towards Caribou, Maine as the train would enter the vast “North Woods” of Maine and eventually reaching Old Town,

Today the Old Town Train Station remains, albeit, in sad dis-repair.

The short trip from the station to Treat & Webster (French) Island is exactly as Laurent described. Down to a crossroad, turn right go across the bridge with the railroad trestle which his train had just crossed in view and immediately after crossing turn right go across the railroad tracks and up the hill (Front Street).

While the exact home that the family moved into is unknown, US census records show that in 1900 the family lived on Front Street. In fact, a short ride up the hill brings you to a group of small “Mill Houses” that understandably Maman would “not be happy about”.

But by 1910 the Morin family (according to the US Census), had moved around the corner to Bodwell Street. And there on Bodwell Street just happens to be a home with the obvious handy work of a skilled stone mason. The stone wall, perhaps now 100 years old is still in perfect condition.

 

Laurent and his younger brother Francois would be best friends for life and business partners.

Together Laurent and Francois would open a small produce stand.

Which two years later would open for the season a little larger.

By 1897 Laurent would marry Atonia Dumond (Dumont) on the day after Christmas.

Laurent and son Lawrence, Jr., Francois (Frank) and brother Joseph and Clement - South Main Street Old Town Maine Circa 1922

Within a couple of years, Laurent and Francois opened a year around store on South Main Street in Old Town. By 1920 the store would employ many Morin family members, including son, Lawrence, Jr. and Francois and brothers Joseph and Clement.

The Morin Brothers store’s success was well documented in the local papers.

 

The Laurent Morin home at 1 Hayes Street on French Island Old Town Maine.

Laurent and Atonia Dumond would soon build their own home on French Island located at 1 Hayes Street. Just around the corner from the small mill house the family occupied in 1882.

The Hayes Street home as it stands today.

 

 

Peter and Amanda Grant

Laurent’s baby sister Amelia Amanda Mary Morin would grow up to marry Peter Grant on 9 August 1893. Daughter Alice was born the next year, followed by Bernadette, and later son Jesse and daughter Doris.

Peter and Amanda Grant’s home on Carrol Street in 1910 was just across the Penobscot River from French Island. In 1940 their home is listed as 15 South Brunswick just two doors north of Epiphane (Dave) Morin at 21 South Brunswick.

Alice would marry Joseph Francois Xavier Bosse’ which is another story that includes Little Tunk Pond and the famous explorer Admiral Bird.

Bernadette “Bertha” Grant would marry Peter Joseph O’Dell on June 10, 1919, in Old Town Maine.

They would raise three children of their own: Joseph Andrew born 10 November 1920, Madeline Eleanor born 2 August 1924 and Doris Elizabeth born 27 February 1926.

Joseph, Doris and Eleanor would each have two children of their own (Two girls, Two boys, and a boy and a girl).

Today the legacy of Jean Baptiste Morin and Domithilde “Rose” Theriault, spans three different centuries and seven generations. (Morin Brothers Automotive Old Town owners are 4th cousins).

Chances are if you're reading this and live in Maine you are related, perhaps only distantly to my wife.

Descendants of French-Canadian immigrants today make up approximately 30% of the population of the state of Maine. The Québecois who settled in the United States did so throughout Northern Maine and much of New England. Their migration was via the land bridges across the border separating the United States and Canada many of them by railroad.

The purpose of their migration was the same for all -- work, mostly in the woods and the mills.

Both Laurent and Francois would adopt Americanized versions of their names Lawrence and Frank. Brother, Jean would become John.

Rose would always speak beautiful French and was a wonderful cook and gracious host to all who would visit. Morin family members were well known for their stores and cooking, something that was passed onto future generations. 

Lawrence Jr’s home on South Main would pass to his son and son’s wife in 1989 who still reside there as of 2022.

Finally, for today’s living descendants of Jean Baptiste and Rose it is odd to note that your entire existence is due simply to a random combination of economic factors in Canada during the 1880’s and a woman’s willingness to “finally, after a lot of talking” agree to uproot her family on a man’s promise of love and affection and move to another country in hopes of a better life.

And perhaps as the French would say “Bonne Chance” (Good Luck).

Footnote: Just for the curious, Jean Baptiste and his wife Rose are Mrs. Cedar's Great Grandparents. I suspect they are both proud, pleased and surprised at how smart, beautiful and successful their great great granddaughter became. And perhaps not.