Little Chapel on the River
A Pub, a Town and the Search for What Matters Most
Chapter OneHome
Didn't you hear it?
The sky is a brilliant blue and clear, the air unusually warm for September -- a sign we are still closer to August than October. A little past 8 a.m. finds me still moving slowly around my Manhattan apartment, stepping over the dirty clothes and half-unpacked suitcases from a two-week beach vacation in the Hamptons and Southern California. My girlfriend, Kathryn, is in the kitchen washing dishes. Neither of us hurry. The Wall Street Journal's offices, where we work, sit directly across the street, making our commute something approximating eight minutes from door to
desk.
It is Tuesday.
Cup of coffee in hand, I curl up in a chair at our dining room table overlooking the harbor in Battery Park City. To my left is the Hudson River. To my right, the World Trade Center towers. The windows are open to catch the early morning breeze. Joggers run by, breathing in damp sea air. Workers are streaming off the ... read full excerpt from: Little Chapel on the River ebook
