Editor's note: This post is a
slightly edited version of a column originally published in the Piedmont
Post on May 4, 2011, two days after the death of Osama bin Laden.
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By C.J. Hirschfield
On the evening of Sept. 11, 2011, I was in Manhattan’s Little Italy with my small staff, enjoying a great dinner on a warm and lovely night. Back then I was working in the cable industry, and every year at about that time we came to New York from Oakland to produce a huge industry fundraiser for an organization that aimed to ensure that cable’s management reflected the diversity of the customers they served.
Clark, Abby, Paul, and I always tried to get in one dinner together before we had to turn our energies to the black-tie event for more than 1,000 VIPs. That night we enjoyed each other's company, a bit of wine, and excellent Italian food. As we walked to catch a cab to our midtown hotel, we marveled at the beauty of the night. The Twin Towers glowed.
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By C.J. Hirschfield
On the evening of Sept. 11, 2011, I was in Manhattan’s Little Italy with my small staff, enjoying a great dinner on a warm and lovely night. Back then I was working in the cable industry, and every year at about that time we came to New York from Oakland to produce a huge industry fundraiser for an organization that aimed to ensure that cable’s management reflected the diversity of the customers they served.
Clark, Abby, Paul, and I always tried to get in one dinner together before we had to turn our energies to the black-tie event for more than 1,000 VIPs. That night we enjoyed each other's company, a bit of wine, and excellent Italian food. As we walked to catch a cab to our midtown hotel, we marveled at the beauty of the night. The Twin Towers glowed.
The next morning, as I was preparing
to head upstairs at the Hilton to our temporary office, I turned on the Today
Show and learned that a plane had hit one of the towers.
