A Very Personal Message from Stephen Beaumont - October 2001
A few weeks ago, I boarded a plane at Toronto's Pearson International Airport. As someone who flies tens of thousands of miles a year and views air travel as an everyday part of my life, I thought nothing of it at the time. Little did I know, however, that the circumstances of this flight were to be anything but ordinary. The date was September 11 and my destination was New York City.
That Air Canada flight arrived at LaGuardia at 9:15 a.m., exactly three minutes before the authorities closed the airport. I knew nothing of the morning's tragic events until I got to the taxi line and the cab jockey told me I'd have trouble getting to Midtown. A plane had hit the World Trade Center, he said, and the bridges and tunnels to lower Manhattan were all closed. An approach from Uptown still appeared possible, so I jumped into the next cab and set off, still with no idea of the depths of the horror that had been imposed upon New York that morning.
Like millions of New Yorkers, I lived the following six days in intimate contact with the effects of terrorism. Each time I stepped out of my Midtown hotel, my eyes were drawn immediately and involuntarily southward; returning to my room became synonymous with turning on the television; and twice I travelled to the perimeter of Ground Zero, first as a journalist seeking stories for the Globe and Mail newspaper and secondly as a citizen searching for hope among the hundreds who lined the West Side Highway, cheering the arrival and departure of each heroic rescue worker.
In the days since that awful Tuesday, I have spent much time pondering the significance of my trade. Placed alongside scenes of such hideous devastation, my writings on food and drink and travel have seemed trivial and puny, my opinions irrelevant Finding the motivation to meet my story deadlines with good copy became, to say the least, a difficult task.
As time has passed, however, perspective has taken hold. I still don't believe that my writing is of earth-shaking significance, but then again, I never did. What I do believe in more strongly than ever is the necessity of enjoying life, and it is my great hope that through World of Beer and my other work, readers will find the means to derive more pleasure from their lives. If I am successful in that regard, I have achieved relevance.
If the existing evidence proves true and this horrific attack is the work of bin Laden and his adherents, then my point is doubly valid. One of the things that separates the western world from these fanatics is an appreciation of the pleasures this earthly existence has to offer, from art to music to gastronomy. And as long as I remain on this earth, I intend to enjoy life and all it contains as much as I am able, and to the best of my ability help others do the same.
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