I remember where I was

The 25th anniversary of 9/11 is almost upon us. It’s hard to believe that a quarter century has passed since this brazen and deadly terrorist attack on American soil. The intervening years have failed to diminish the mind-numbing statistics that haunt this infamous date.

On that day, 19 terrorists planned and subsequently hijacked four airliners. They then flew one into each of the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York City. The third plane crashed into the Pentagon, the headquarters of the United States Department of Defense, in Arlington County, Virginia. The fourth plane crashed in a rural Pennsylvania field during a passenger revolt.

A total of 2996 lost their lives that day, including the 19 murder-suicide hijackers. Countless more died prematurely in the years that followed from exposure to the toxic dust that engulfed lower Manhattan after the Twin Towers fell. The New York skyline was forever changed in an instant, along with aviation security. The death and destruction which occurred that day, in the heart of the world’s financial capital, was simply beyond comprehension.

Much like the generation before me who recall where they were when Kennedy was assassinated, my generation can recall where they were when news broke that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Centre. I was in Hong Kong at the time.  I’d flown in from Tokyo a few days earlier, on 8 September, after spending three weeks on secondment training and supporting the executive team in Japan. Tokyo has become the company’s most problematic APAC office, so I'd been seconded to help with its reformation.

APAC’s Regional Director flew in from Sydney late in the afternoon and joined me for a debrief over dinner in Hong Kong. We returned to our hotel around 8:30pm. At the time, we were staying at Bishop Lei International House, an unassuming three-star establishment in Mid-Levels on Hong Kong Island. Its rooms were tiny, barely fitting a bed and side table, and its amenities were rather limited. For example, the only English-language channel on television was CNN. As a result, I'd often watch it after dinner, which I did that day.

At 8:49pm, minutes after turning on the TV, CNN cut live to scenes of smoke pouring from the World Trade Centre's North Tower. American Airlines Flight 11 had struck the building just three minutes earlier, at 8:46 am local time. Along with millions of others, I watched live as a second plane struck the South Tower soon after. I still remember seeing United Airlines Flight 175's fuzzy silhouette come into view as the news anchors debated the scene. I thought to myself, the camera angle made the plane look unusually close to the unfolding tragedy. I then watched each tower fall and continued watching through the night until 7 World Trade Centre collapsed at 5:20am Hong Kong Time.

I recall vividly how hypnotic the news coverage was. The scenes being broadcast live simply beggared belief. There was also a palpable fear that high-profile buildings were being targeted globally. At the time, my company’s Hong Kong office was based in the Bank of China building. Its distinctive diagonal facade made it one of the city’s most iconic towers. If terrorists were targeting high-profile buildings worldwide, then this was an obvious target. Should I stay away from the office?

At one point, emotionally overwhelmed, I tried calling my parents to tell them I loved them. However, they were on a tour bus in Portugal, without international roaming access. They remained unaware of the news unfolding in the USA until they reached their hotel that evening. Real-time online messaging was still years away. When the planes crashed into the World Trade Centre, it was a full six years before the first iPhone. There was no Facebook; no Twitter or Instagram. 

As you can imagine, very little work was done in the office the following day. Instead, we sat around recalling the events of the previous night, reflecting on the profound shock and utter disbelief we all felt. Newspapers delivered to the office were also a stark reminder of everything we’d witnessed. Hong Kong’s tabloid newspapers printed graphic images on their front page. This included photos of people clinging to pillars near the ugly gash American Airlines Flight 11 had carved through the North Tower, and of people falling to their deaths. It was interesting insight into cultural differences. 

Over the years I’ve become used to Chinese media publishing graphic images Australian media outlets would consider gratuitous in nature. That said, much to my surprise, the Australian Financial Review's front page on September 12 led with "The Falling Man", a confronting image of a jumper.

On 13 September I caught an evening flight back to Sydney. As fate would have it, I was flying Ansett Australia. While my Boeing 747 flew south, Australia’s second-largest airline collapsed into liquidation. All flights were cancelled shortly after 10:00 pm, and its aircraft were grounded. My plane, already in the air, was one of the last to land the following morning. If memory serves me well, the last plane, an overnight flight from Perth, landed shortly after us. I recall sitting in the aircraft’s front cabin, which was almost completely empty. It was clear then that 9/11 was already taking its toll on the aviation industry as people deferred or cancelled their travel plans.

Months later, I was in New York on business. I recall visiting Ground Zero and seeing the hole in the ground filled with debris where the towers once stood. Skyscrapers in the surrounding neighbourhood still bore the scars of the day. This included broken windows, damaged facades and boarded-up street-floor tenancies. It was hard to comprehend that the South Tower, and its 108-floor outdoor observation deck I’d once enjoyed, was gone. That's a retrospective post for another time. A decade later, I took Mum and Dad to visit the 9/11 memorial, just months before Dad passed away.

I read recently that Madeline Amy Sweeney, a flight attendant on Flight 11, was born just two months after me. She was murdered at the age of 35. As I reflect on my life and last year’s 60th birthday celebration, her death resonates deeply. I have so many wonderful memories from the last 25 years, while Amy was cruelly denied the same experience. This really brings home the tragic human toll of that fateful day. Likewise, my memories of Hong Kong will be forever linked with those of 9/11.

One final note. I've illustrated this post with photos I took during my second visit to the Big Apple in 1998. A friend, Ian, and I decided on the spur of the moment to take advantage of a discount fare and spend a week in Manhattan. I'll share more about this trip in another post. While in New York, we visited the Observation Deck on the South Tower. As you can see, the view from 420 metres above street level was truly spectacular.

Convertible dreams

I once owned a Saab Convertible. It was an impulse purchase I made in October 2004 after receiving an unexpected bonus cheque. At the time, Garry was shopping for a new car. He’d seen a car dealer advertising a new Saab sedan demonstrator model for sale. While visiting the dealer’s showroom, I noticed a 2001 second-hand convertible for sale in the yard. On a whim, I decided to take it for a test drive.

I’d always wanted a convertible. The 2001 model in the yard was a Saab’s first-generation convertible. An owner who’d bought Saab’s recently launched second-generation model had traded it in. After a test drive and a brief negotiation, I decided to buy it. For the next 12 months, I proudly drove around Sydney in my fancy convertible. It came with heated seats, aircon and powerful heaters that delivered a warm stream of air, perfect for driving with the roof down in winter.

However, there were some aspects of the car that I didn’t enjoy. The first-generation chassis wasn’t as stiff as it could have been. As a result, the car would subtly shimmer if you drove over an uneven surface or hit a pothole. The sensation was a little disconcerting. Saab fixed this issue on its second-generation model.

The car was also built on a standard sedan footprint. This meant that it had a relatively spacious rear seat. Mitchell, Garry’s nephew, recalls Garry and I driving up to Rouse Hill to show his family my new toy. We took him and his brother Adam for a drive to McDonald's – with the roof down, of course! Two decades later, Mitch still remembers sitting in the back seat, driving through the neighbourhood.

However, while the rear seat was spacious, the car had an unusually long body for a two-seat vehicle. I hated parking it. The rear end always seemed much further away than anticipated (and this was before rear reversing cameras were a thing). Hence, it was no surprise when I eventually hit a pillar while backing into a car space at work one day. Up to that point, I’d come perilously close to hitting parked cars more than once while completing a three-point turn.

Given my love-hate relationship with the car, it was a relatively easy decision to sell it a year later when Garry and I agreed to relocate to London. I ultimately sold the car to a private broker in September 2005 and used the proceeds to fund the sabbatical we enjoyed en route to the United Kingdom. Selling it was another expensive life lesson. Second hand convertibles lose value faster than regular vehicles.

The broker was a little dodgy. He quoted one price, then after viewing the car, tried to lowball it using some flimsy excuse. I stood my ground, reaffirming that his original price was the only offer on the table. The broker was also operating the business from a spare bedroom at the Horizon apartment tower in Darlinghurst. At the time, this was one of Sydney’s premier high-rise apartment buildings. It’s not exactly the place you’d expect to find a couple of employees in an apartment, sitting at simple desks, buying and selling vehicles.

He offered to write me a cheque, or if I waited, he’d go to the bank and raise a bank cheque. I elected to wait while he went to the bank. As I recall, I lost thousands on the price I’d paid 12 months earlier. However, it was able to reconcile the hefty write down while standing in front of the pyramids in Cairo a few months later. I doubt I’ll ever own a convertible again.

Family time kiwi style

I’m currently sitting in the Qantas lounge at Auckland Airport. I’m waiting to board my flight home to Sydney after spending five days with my brothers and their families in New Zealand. It’s been a relaxing weekend filled with plenty of laughs. I also took time out on Friday to spend an afternoon with my brother Hamish. I was keen to learn what I could about his recent transition to retirement. He retired after selling his business in early 2024.

I flew into Tauranga last Thursday. My flight from Sydney was delayed almost an hour, which made for a rather tight connection in Auckland. As a result, I had to haul my luggage from the international terminal for a quick and sweaty bag drop at the domestic terminal. However, thanks to my codeshare ticket, I was able to cool off in the Air New Zealand Regional Lounge before boarding my connecting flight to the Bay of Plenty.

Friday night was spent at the Sailing Club overlooking the Mount and Pilots Bay. Here we caught up with Matt and Shelley’s fabulous group of friends, enjoyed a pub meal and watched the Friday night football game on TV. Their group of friends is another reminder that I need to build the same kind of loyal clique for my retirement years. My friendship networks have become very fragmented over time, and often driven by external factors such as work.

Saturday night we enjoyed family drinks and nibbles at Matt’s before venturing out for an extended family dinner at a local Thai restaurant. The family also surprised me with a cake celebrating my retirement. Sunday afternoon the McGregor boys joined up with Ross, one of Matt’s friends, for nine holes of golf at Summer Hill. This is a rather hilly but scenic course overlooking Papamoa and the Bay of Plenty. Matt scored best. I scored worst. However, in my defence, it was my first game in more than 18 months, possibly longer. Nicole then dropped by to show off her brand new motorbike when we returned home. 

I’m proud to say I’ve managed to squeeze in daily walks along the beach, and back via the scenic boardwalk just minutes from Matt and Shelley’s house. It was wonderful to get outside, feel the breeze and enjoy the therapeutic novelty of an ocean view. My phone app says I’ve managed to average almost 7700 steps over the last seven days. I’ve decided that my retirement is going to involve a lot of regular walking (and if I can get motivated, some light resistance weights two or three times a week).

Hamish was full of handy and sage advice about the hard-won lessons he’s learned about retirement. He’s got me thinking carefully about proactive steps I can take to avoid some of the challenges he’s faced, as well as take advantage of his recommendations for a fulfilling retirement. He’s certainly given me plenty to think about.

While I’ve been away, Garry has taken it upon himself to rearrange the downstairs bedrooms in our apartment. He’s moving the home office into the less glamorous room that extends underneath the main staircase. This frees up the more spacious and light-filled room (with its own balcony) for use as a second bedroom. I must admit that it’s something I’ve wanted to do for some time, so I’m delighted Garry has come to the same conclusion. I guess you could say our transition to retirement is underway as we start shaping our home environment to suit our future.

Transition to retirement

So, this is what retirement feels like? It’s been just over a week since I completed my last official transition project for Artiwood’s new owner (this year’s product catalogue – that’s the cover which opens this post). Since then, my days have felt busier than ever. My diary is filling up with all manner of deferred or delayed activities, such as dental appointments and appointments with other healthcare professionals, including my annual skin cancer check-up.

I also have vouchers for a range of experiences given to me on my birthday last year that I’ve yet to use. This includes axe-throwing, a bathhouse soak (or massage) and a decadent spa treatment. I’ve already booked my spa treatment for mid-September. Garry is trying to convince a group of friends to join us on our axe-throwing date.

Last month I signed up for a six-week online retirement planning course. It’s a course I’ve been considering for some time. Fortuitously, it started the day after I completed my final transition project, and thus I’m able to give it my full attention. The course comes highly recommended. It takes participants through all aspects of retirement, including Government pensions, Superannuation mechanics and broader issues such as travel, hobbies and other pastimes.

One week into the course, I’ve been inspired to modify financial planning templates I created a decade ago. It’s also been reassuring to learn that much of the planning I’ve done in recent years (and began more than a decade ago) is considered best practice. I also love the fact that I’m getting my head around how some of these Government services and benefits really work. 

The course has also challenged me to think about my retirement “community”. Who do I want to spend more time with? As luck would have it, Jon, my longest-standing friendship in Australia, retired earlier this year. We’ve both retired ahead of schedule and are somewhat scrambling to wrap our heads around this next stage in life. It’s nice to think that I might have a like-minded partner in crime to share the journey.

Next week I fly to New Zealand for a five-day weekend. This will be my first opportunity to quiz my brother Hamish about his transition to retirement. He stopped working about two years ago and struggled initially to find his rhythm. As I plan my own retirement, I count myself lucky to have the insights of friends, family and other resources to draw upon. I'm also fortunate to have already weathered a major career transition. As a result, I can draw upon lessons I learned while navigating a loss of purpose, mild depression and other often cathartic, personal challenges. Watch this space.

Wedding on the lake

Yesterday we celebrated the wedding of Zoe, Garry’s niece, and Ben Rowlinson. The happy couple tied the knot on the shores of Wallis Lake, about 14km south of Forster. The ceremony was held at the Green Cathedral, an outdoor amphitheatre set among native trees and palms overlooking the lake. At the same time, the reception was hosted nearby at Palms Pavilion, a dedicated events venue.

The location was chosen in part because Nicole and Jason, Zoe’s parents, own a holiday house at Bluey’s Beach, a coastal resort town a few kilometres south of the lake. The house is part of a holiday resort complex set among native trees, directly opposite the beach. Garry and I rented a house at the resort for three nights, as did many of the wedding guests.

The wedding was a joyful occasion. Ben and Zoe were blessed with relatively warm and sunny weather. The bush setting also sheltered us from any lake breeze. Earlier in the day, the weather forecast had predicted a light sprinkle as the ceremony was ending. However, in the end, we experienced the briefest of misty raindrops while waiting for the newlyweds to finish their photo session, more than an hour after the ceremony itself. We also witnessed a truly spectacular sunset over the lake as the reception got underway.

Guests were bused to and from the event. As a result, Garry and I were able to kick back and enjoy ourselves. The speeches were all hilarious, and my mother-in-law Rhonda’s memory was invoked more than once. I’m not too proud to admit that I cried as the bride walked down the aisle, and again when Rhonda’s name was mentioned at the reception. I must be softening in my old age. I don't recall crying at a wedding before.

The day was filled with personal touches, reflecting the generous and caring nature of both newlyweds. Perhaps the most memorable of these was a photo montage at the reception. Zoe had sourced and framed images of family members and their partners on their wedding day, or their earliest photo as a couple, along with a message reminding guests that she and Ben were following in the footsteps of those who’d gone before. Much to my surprise, she included a photo of Garry and me. Garry quietly reminded that Zoe was three when we met, so she's only ever known us as a couple.

The newlyweds also wrote a personal note to each guest on the back of every table place card. With more than 80 guests in attendance, that's an extraordinary handwriting feat. Zoe referenced our hospitality as one of her strongest memories on both of our cards. I'm not surprised. We've hosted countless Christmas lunches and family milestone events at our apartment over the years. It's rather eye-opening to discover the impression you're making on others.

Everyone had a wonderful evening dining, dancing and laughing. I also learned that you're supposed to sing Eagle Rock with your trousers around your ankles these days. When did that become a thing? It’s crazy to think that I first met Zoe almost 23 years ago. She was a toddler sleeping in her cot. Now that tiny little girl owns a house and has a husband. Likewise, we first met Ben as a short, skinny kid when he joined the family for Christmas lunch at our house in 2018. That’s him with Zoe and Adam above.

Garry and I wish the happy couple a life together filled with love, laughter and joy.

Baby steps

Garry and I have booked two weeks in Bali for late October. We're calling this our first official retirement holiday (baby steps, as a friend described it). By the time we fly, we'll be weeks away from officially completing all our business sale obligations. We've taken advantage of a Qantas sale and a special all-inclusive promotion with the Sofitel Nusa Dua Beach Resort.

We'll spend 11 nights in a luxurious suite with direct pool access. Our booking includes all meals plus cocktails and canapés each night.  However, before we settle down by the pool, we're first heading for the islands of Flores for a three-day cruise around Komodo Island.  We've booked the best cabin on Andalucia 3, a brand new ironwood and teak Phinisi-style boat. Check out the video of our cabin that opens this post.

Our cruise includes a morning tour of Rinca Island where we'll see Komodo Dragons in the wild. We're also being promised a mind-blowing swim with Giant Manta Rays. I've also booked us a sunset dinner at Le Bajo Flores, a superb restaurant overlooking the pristine blue water in Labuan Bajo Flores.  Watch this space!

Gift fair swan song

This morning I flew home from a weekend in Melbourne. I’ve spent the last two days introducing Artiwood’s new owner to customers and industry colleagues attending the annual Reed Gift Fair.

It’s been a cathartic event. Everyone has been full of praise, as well as expressing gratitude for the relationships we’ve built over the years. I’ve been hugged and slapped on the back more times than I care to recall. We’ve even been given a bottle of champagne from an industry colleague to toast the sale of our business.

It’s been somewhat humbling and reaffirming to have our efforts acknowledged in such glowing terms. Although I must admit I won’t miss the early-morning starts, the long hours on my feet and the exhausting displays of extroverted energy that epitomised our trade show appearances over the years. As an introvert, I’ve always found these events hard work in more ways than one.

I now have one final project to complete for the new owner before my transitional obligations are done. I’m currently laying out Artiwood’s annual product catalogue for the last time. Once the book is completed, I’m officially off the hook.

UPDATE: 13 August

I've just finished this year's product catalogue for Artiwood and loaded it onto the company's website. That's it.  I've officially completed my last transition task for the new owner.  I think that means I'm retired now. After several challenging years both personally and professionally, this moment feels like pure relief.

Christmas in July (The Sequel)

Garry and I are currently enjoying a long weekend in Meerschaum Vale, a lush farm-filled valley near Ballina. We’re staying with our friends Liz and Adam on their lifestyle block for four days. The good weather we’ve been enjoying in Sydney recently has also followed us north. We’ve woken daily to blue skies and sunshine, with daytime temperatures hovering around 20C. This is unseasonably warm for this time of year.

Our weekend away has proven very timely. We’re now in the midst of transitioning our business and its systems to its new owner. Hence, distancing ourselves from life in Sydney is helping us physically and mentally reset for life after Artiwood. Liz and Adam have also organised plenty to keep us entertained.

We enjoyed lunch by the water in Ballina upon arrival on Saturday. Liz and Adam’s friends Tim and Kat then joined us for dinner that night as we celebrated Christmas in July. We finished our Yuletide festivities drinking Sheep Dog Peanut Butter whiskey around a bonfire. It was a wonderful way to finish a relaxing day.

Yesterday we drove to Federal, a small country village west of Byron Bay. We spent the afternoon enjoying lunch in the sun before turning our hand to creating mugs and bowls in a pottery workshop that Liz had organised. We’ll get the glazed and kiln-fired finished product back from the potter in a few weeks. 

Liz has offered to bring our creations with her when she’s next in town. Her next visit is currently scheduled for October. We’ve booked tickets to see My Fair Lady at the Opera House (along with a pre-theatre dinner at Aria). I could get used to this semi-retired lifestyle.

UPDATE: 29 July

We finished our time up north with dinner at Ché Bon, a popular French restaurant in Ballina, on Tuesday night. This morning we packed our bags and flew back to Sydney, where glorious blue skies greeted us once again.