9-11 MEMORIAL

RINGFINNAN

On a gorgeous sunny day while in Ireland we decided to hike into town after our visit to a historic site. The smooth path was well kept and generally down hill into a small fishing village. We found the designated pub for lunch. I noted that cod cakes were on the dinner menu, but it was lunch time.

I said to the waiter, “I grew up on cod cakes and it’s been years since I’ve enjoyed one. If it’s possible to have them at noon that would be my first choice, if not I’ll have your fish and fries.”

I was delighted when he served me the cod cakes. How nice was that!

As we loaded the van after lunch our guide told us, “I was talking to another guide during lunch and she told me about a place called Ringfinnan. I’ve never been there but I think we can find it if you want to have a go at it.”

We all agreed, “Let’s go.”

It seems that an Irish nurse was about to retire after working for years in a New York City hospital emergency room. She was working on 9/11 and knew many police and firemen. She did retire and returned to Ireland to assume some property there which her recently deceased father had left her.

The modest home sat on a small amount of acreage on a hillside overlooking a valley below. The wrought iron gate to the property was wide open. We were in for a treat. To the side of the home, at her own expense, this nurse had planted a tree for every fireman and policeman killed on 9/11. Each tree was marked with a name and his precinct or ladder number. The trees were thriving and were of several varieties. We strolled quietly among the trees that one day will be a lovely memorial park.

AIRPORT ENVCOUNTER

    A  HUGE  EMBARRASSMENT

            On my first trip to Europe years ago, long before I was smart enough to travel light, I did a fair amount of shopping. The night before we were coming home I’d carefully repacked putting all my breakables into my carry-on duffel bag along with all my dirty laundry.

            At that time I did not know leaded glass showed up as a blob in the scanner. We were leaving through London’s Heathrow Airport . Since I’d checked my major bag, I expected no problem getting through the scanner.

            HOWEVER. A very sweet middle aged man asked if the duffel was mine. When I confirmed it was he asked permission to check its contents. Without thinking I said, “Sure.” Like there could be any other response but an affirmative one.

            As he unzipped the bag I was horrified to  remember the bag’s contents.

As he pulled out one piece of clothing after another I sheepishly told him, “I’m so sorry. All my dirty laundry is in there. I’m so sorry.”

            This was in the days before gloves when I probably would have picked stuff up by the corner with two fingers and made a face each time. He was most pleasant—and professional—saying it was no problem.

            When he found the crystal bowls I’d bought for my sister he remarked, “Ah, here it is.” Then he explained to me how the lead shows as a blob, and there is no way to know what it is. Not that I looked like a bomber, but they needed to be careful.

            I’ve never forgotten that embarrassing experience, but it has not stopped me from buying something if I want it. Now if I’m stopped I just ask what they’re looking for and if I knowingly have such items I’ll give directions as to where in the carry-on it is located and what it is. This speeds things along and I’m shortly on my way.