A year ago today was also Valentines Day, a day two weeks after coming out to Carrie. I have been trying to remember that day – more likely that night, and I cannot. I could ask Carrie – I suspect she remembers, but even I am not that cruel. I do remember writing a post; I go back and read it: no help as to that day, but oh what sweet memories.
Back then my blog was new, not too many people wandering my way. So tonight will be a first, and likely a last: an encore presentation. Before we get to that post I need to add a word about tonight. We are about to have a nice dinner, a family dinner surrounded by loved ones. There had been other thoughts – I found a babysitter, had a reservation – the proverbial table for two. When I told Carrie of this she was appreciative, but was unwilling to do it. She pointed out that eighteen years ago we sat in the bar at the World Trade Center gazing out at endless opportunity. She pointed out that like the World Trade Center, the structure was gone. And she pointed out that something new, something good will be built on that site – on our site, but it is still too fresh.
Which seems to bring me to last years post…
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Valentines Day - 1989
It was our first valentine’s day together and we celebrated in one of New York’s unsung gems – the Hors d'ouverie. When people think of the World Trade Center in happier times they talk of Windows On The World, but next to it was a place for the average man. Before 1991, you could drive into the garage – have your ticket validated so it was free – take a short ride to the main lobby with its narrow windows evoking a cathedral more than an office tower and be whisked up to the top in those massive elevator cabs. You would take a quick left and down the end of the long passageway you could see the dark windows. It was a room built for the night – dark ceilings blending with the windows to be almost seamless with the night, tiered rounded banquettes so two could be alone and one, and the piano player – always there but never dominating.
I don’t think I ever had other than a Bombay martini there – straight up, very dry, very cold – and yes, an olive. I rarely drink gin anymore but when I do I always silently toast that room. Where else for the price of two rounds and a couple of hors d’ouveres could one be with the angels for a few moments looking out as far as the night would allow.