The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do

Team Building is the topic for this day, with four more to follow. How to build effective and efficient teams, communicate better, know your and your team members’ strengths and weaknesses, delegate, motivate and of course have some fun along the way.

What a great group of folks they are, a dozen in the morning class and the same for the afternoon session. I leave at around 5:30 to head home to Philly. On the road I’m mentally figuring out how much time I have to eat, make my calls, spend some time with my son maybe talking, just relaxing and or watching sports before going off to sleep. Tomorrow is a special day. September 11th and I’m to meet my clients Paul and Lynn in Trenton at 7:30 A.M. to catch the train to Manhattan. We have a day of meetings scheduled and a “surprise” Birthday Party in the evening.

The party’s for me, Paul had arranged it and even called people on his speakerphone while I was in his office to say “Are you coming to Dan’s surprise party on the 11th?” And we’d all laugh. September 11th is my Birthday. I can’t calculate how many times I’ve told people, “Do you know how much money I had to spend to get my birthday on all those Police Cars! 911….it wasn’t easy”?

Paul calls late and leaves me a message. “There’s a change of plans, we’re gonna take the eight twenty-five (or the train around that time)”. I call him. I don’t think he’s feeling too well, maybe he wants to get a few extra minutes of sleep in the A.M. “Check in with me in the morning” he says. Five forty is my call into Paul. “Dan I think we can take the 10:35, I just wanna lay in bed for a bit, but we’re definitely going, see you at the station”.

So I eat my breakfast, take my shower and get all my “stuff” in order.

Now it’s a few minutes after nine and the phone rings, it’s my friend. He asks if I’m still going to Manhattan. I give him an affirmative and he says, “Oh no you’re not, turn on the TV”.

I press the on button and there it is. I’m numb, frozen, in disbelief. Can this really be happening? I attempt to think, but disorganization gets thrown into the mix. Sometimes I’m fully cognizant of what I’m doing and other times I have to think and rethink to make sure that I’m comprehending even the “normal” things away from the commentary and pictures on CNN.

The calls go out, to my son, Paul, other family members and friends to see if everyone’s ok. And to tell them that I didn’t go.

I speak with Anne Marie who works in Manhattan. She was supposed to attend the dinner party. She tells me that a mutual friend, who she works with, had just dropped off a package to his roommate on the 102nd floor of Tower One, taken the elevator down and reached the lobby when the plane hit. He’s fine but he doesn’t know where his roommate is.

The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do

The party’s for me, Paul had arranged it and even called people on his speakerphone while I was in his office to say “Are you coming to Dan’s surprise party on the 11th?” And we’d all laugh. September 11th is my Birthday. I can’t calculate how many times I’ve told people, “Do you know how much money I had to spend to get my birthday on all those Police Cars! 911….it wasn’t easy”?

Paul calls late and leaves me a message. “There’s a change of plans, we’re gonna take the eight twenty-five (or the train around that time)”. I call him. I don’t think he’s feeling too well, maybe he wants to get a few extra minutes of sleep in the A.M. “Check in with me in the morning” he says. Five forty is my call into Paul. “Dan I think we can take the 10:35, I just wanna lay in bed for a bit, but we’re definitely going, see you at the station”.

So I eat my breakfast, take my shower and get all my “stuff” in order.

Now it’s a few minutes after nine and the phone rings, it’s my friend. He asks if I’m still going to Manhattan. I give him an affirmative and he says, “Oh no you’re not, turn on the TV”.

I press the on button and there it is. I’m numb, frozen, in disbelief. Can this really be happening? I attempt to think, but disorganization gets thrown into the mix. Sometimes I’m fully cognizant of what I’m doing and other times I have to think and rethink to make sure that I’m comprehending even the “normal” things away from the commentary and pictures on CNN.

The calls go out, to my son, Paul, other family members and friends to see if everyone’s ok. And to tell them that I didn’t go.

I speak with Anne Marie who works in Manhattan. She was supposed to attend the dinner party. She tells me that a mutual friend, who she works with, had just dropped off a package to his roommate on the 102nd floor of Tower One, taken the elevator down and reached the lobby when the plane hit. He’s fine but he doesn’t know where his roommate is.

The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do

Paul calls late and leaves me a message. “There’s a change of plans, we’re gonna take the eight twenty-five (or the train around that time)”. I call him. I don’t think he’s feeling too well, maybe he wants to get a few extra minutes of sleep in the A.M. “Check in with me in the morning” he says. Five forty is my call into Paul. “Dan I think we can take the 10:35, I just wanna lay in bed for a bit, but we’re definitely going, see you at the station”.

So I eat my breakfast, take my shower and get all my “stuff” in order.

Now it’s a few minutes after nine and the phone rings, it’s my friend. He asks if I’m still going to Manhattan. I give him an affirmative and he says, “Oh no you’re not, turn on the TV”.

I press the on button and there it is. I’m numb, frozen, in disbelief. Can this really be happening? I attempt to think, but disorganization gets thrown into the mix. Sometimes I’m fully cognizant of what I’m doing and other times I have to think and rethink to make sure that I’m comprehending even the “normal” things away from the commentary and pictures on CNN.

The calls go out, to my son, Paul, other family members and friends to see if everyone’s ok. And to tell them that I didn’t go.

I speak with Anne Marie who works in Manhattan. She was supposed to attend the dinner party. She tells me that a mutual friend, who she works with, had just dropped off a package to his roommate on the 102nd floor of Tower One, taken the elevator down and reached the lobby when the plane hit. He’s fine but he doesn’t know where his roommate is.

The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do

I press the on button and there it is. I’m numb, frozen, in disbelief. Can this really be happening? I attempt to think, but disorganization gets thrown into the mix. Sometimes I’m fully cognizant of what I’m doing and other times I have to think and rethink to make sure that I’m comprehending even the “normal” things away from the commentary and pictures on CNN.

The calls go out, to my son, Paul, other family members and friends to see if everyone’s ok. And to tell them that I didn’t go.

I speak with Anne Marie who works in Manhattan. She was supposed to attend the dinner party. She tells me that a mutual friend, who she works with, had just dropped off a package to his roommate on the 102nd floor of Tower One, taken the elevator down and reached the lobby when the plane hit. He’s fine but he doesn’t know where his roommate is.

The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do

The party, the meetings, the business seems oddly meaningless and meaningful at the same time. How nice it would be to have the party, sit in a meeting and do the business of business. And how absurd it all seems at this time of tragedy.

The day passes painfully, my birthday will mean something so different to me and everyone else from here on out.

I try to call the Red Cross to give blood but all the lines are busy. Finally I get through and they tell me that there’s a blood drive being held in Flourtown (my Flourtown) tomorrow starting at 2:00. No appointments will be taken.

The 12th is more of the same, everything to do with business is cancelled and who would want to do anything anyway. I wonder about my friends in NYC and in North Jersey and hope everyone is ok.

I walk down the block and there, a few houses away is a makeshift shrine on the steps of a neighbor. Five or six candles and two photos, one of the photos is on a piece paper that looked so much like the photos I’ve begun to see on TV, held by distraught relatives and friends. Missing 102nd floor, Tower One (the same tower and floor of my friend’s roommate), followed by his name and the picture of a man smiling. How sad. What do you do? Or Think? Or say? My mind still shifts between thinking straight and the haze that so many people continue to say appears from time to time in their thoughts.

I get to the blood drive at 1:50 P.M. there are about forty people waiting. And the line continues to get longer. The day proceeds, I wait, and the realization hits me that I have to go back up to North Jersey the next morning. At 7:25 P.M. I’ve been thanked, my blood has been given and I head home. The Team Building Seminar Series is to continue in the morning.

Team Building has come to America in a manner that theory, academic exercises or lecture can only reinforce in a seminar. We’ve illustrated it by our actions. The firefighters, police officers, emergency workers, and “civilians” have reacted in a way that shows the best in people.

Everyone is helping and supporting, giving money and or blood, sending supplies, performing tasks that must be done in order to make things move somewhat smoothly in what otherwise would be a totally chaotic situation. And we do it. From psychological help to just talking with each other. We somehow realize that we need one another.

Then there are the flags. More than I’ve ever seen. I wonder how many are displayed out of respect, how many out of real patriotism and how many out of jingoism. I hope the former two far out weight the third. I glance up to read the sayings placed under old glory on the overpasses. My favorite one reads America, Diverse and Free. I think about how important it is for everyone to constantly remember that. America really is a Team, made up of all kinds of people. That’s one of the things that makes us so strong and makes so many people outside and inside our country so envious.

The seminar the next day brings those points to fore. What better example of Team Building? Instantaneously we’ve become a Team. Things go well under the circumstances that day and the next. The American Team Building has even spread to the Garden State Parkway on the 13th where motorists have pulled over, gotten out of their cars and stand next to their vehicles holding candles. It continues for miles. I leave North Jersey after more Team Building Sessions on the 14th.

The next week the haze remains to some degree. More Kenilworth Monday and Tuesday. I must say I really like the people I’m working with. They seem to realize their team building needs quite clearly and are already using some of the techniques to bring about change.

Thursday and Friday I’m in Maryland. Thursday night I go to sleep around 10:30. The workshop I’m d