agreed on the special trip to honor his coming of age, I sent him a kids guide to New York, which he pored over. He made a list of the twenty things he wanted most to see. The Statue of Liberty came first; a Broadway play second. Sixth, or maybe seventh, was the World Trade Center.
Our five days pounding the pavement were exhausting, but exciting in the way only New York can be exciting. We took the ferry to the Statue of Liberty, with a stop-off at Ellis Island where Jake said, awed, "Maybe I'm standing where my great grandfather stood when he landed." We ate at the "Seinfeld" restaurant, hiked Central Park, and saw the "Music Man" on Broadway, inspiring Jake to take an acting class. But the list wasn't followed methodically. Somehow, Schwab's exhaustive toy store (number eleven) pushed its way past the World Trade Center.
"We'll come back," I assured Jake, who frowned over the unchecked events on his list. "The World Trade Center isn't going anywhere."
That was in August, 2000.