As unbelievably painful as it was on 9/11, and now this year, we’ll be okay. I’ll do my part with the rebirth of Tribeca’s Kitchen, and you’ll each do yours as best you can, as we always strive to do. I know that our great city will recover, because we have a strength and endurance like no other. God bless my father and Peter and all those we lost this year from this horrible virus, and all of our families suffering with the pain of loss. They will never be forgotten because that moment in time changed our lives forever, and they paid the ultimate price. God bless the first responders who perished on 9/11, the thousands of others who were killed, and all of their families. Diners are about employee culture, summer jobs, opportunities for those who have no education but an amazing work ethic and a dream. What they are really about, and why communities always need their “neighborhood diner” around, is being there for everyone with open arms like my father’s with something for everyone - rich or poor, happy or sad, large parties or a table for 1. Diners are not fundamentally defined by a certain decor or menu selection. It was through sharing this story and writing this reflection at this moment on this day that I fully realized the importance and value of what it means to be a neighborhood diner.ĭiners have been around for over 100 years for a reason.
It is for these precise reasons that I, like my dad and Pete, am rebuilding Tribeca’s Kitchen now. I am a proud diner owner’s son, and I will do what I know I am supposed to do. This nightmare that we are living this year is most definitely my 9/11. Your family, your employees and your community need you. I would do what diner owners like him would do: fight through the good times and the bad. What would my dad do in my shoes? And I quickly knew the answer. When my dad passed away in March, I thought back to 9/11 whenever I contemplated what I would do with Tribeca’s Kitchen. It was a rebirth moment for him, his partners, our families, and for the community. While many businesses in the area “ran for the hills” out of downtown, either voluntarily or involuntarily, Gee Whiz doubled down and expanded into those two spaces, fully renovating the entire restaurant. There were two other commercial spaces next to it. At the time, Gee Whiz was a traditional 60-seat coffee shop - its current size. He opened the door covered in ashes and dust from head to toe with his hands and eyes open wide and screamed, “I’m home!” But there wasn’t much more he could say other than that - he could not believe the things he had just witnessed.Īs the days passed and he realized Gee Whiz would be closed for a long time, he and his partners at the time, including Peter Panayiotou whose son Chris has just reopened Gee Whiz, talked about how this would all play out. He had literally handed over the restaurant to the FDNY as a rescue site, crossed the Brooklyn Bridge on foot, walked to Bay Ridge, and somehow got a ride from there. Hours later, my dad finally called and told me he was walking home - from Tribeca. It was the first time I really listened to the words of that song, released almost exactly 30 years prior to 9/11. I remember the radio playing “Imagine” by John Lennon.
I drove around aimlessly, trying to reach him, my friends, my family - and just find the way towards something. At the time, my dad was one of the owners of Gee Whiz Diner, and he was the one who was there on that day. Many of my fellow students had parents who were firefighters or police officers and/or worked downtown, and we all stormed out - myself included. My teachers were on strike outside the school, and when the news came in about the attack, they ran back in and told us what had just occurred in Manhattan. I was 17 years old, a month into my senior year in high school on Staten Island. 19 years ago, on September 11, 2001, unexpectedly and unannounced, our world was turned upside down.
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