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Elaine Ambrose

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Tears from Italy on Sept.11, 2001

September 11, 2015 By Elaine Ambrose

9-11 newspapers Italy

(Featured on The Huffington Post 50, Sept. 11, 2015)

On a clear afternoon on September 11, 2001, the internet café in Florence, Italy bustled with tourists, students, and animated baristas shuffling plates of pastries and demitasse cups of steaming expresso. I paid for an hour of computer time to write and email a travel update to family and friends back in the States. Around 3:00 pm, I finished a long letter and pushed “Send.” Nothing happened. I groaned about a perceived computer error and continued to hit the “Send” button. Suddenly, all the screens in the café went dark. That’s when we knew the problem was serious. The time in New York was 9:00 am.

I rushed back to my hotel room, turned on CNN news, and watched in horror as the South Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City collapsed in a nightmare of smoke and debris. Then the second tower fell, and images flashed of the Pentagon on fire. I was almost 6,000 miles from home in Idaho, I couldn’t make a telephone call to my family, and all flights were cancelled. I gasped for breath.

Hungry for information, I hurried to the lobby and joined other Americans from our tour group. We huddled around television sets, alternately hugging, wiping tears, and praying. The hotel staff opened the bar and offered free food and drinks. Our group quickly expanded to include people from several nationalities, and near twilight a spontaneous chorus erupted with all of us signing “God Bless America” and the National Anthem. The Italians proved to be our new best friends.

We still didn’t know the extent of the attacks or if any more airplanes had been intentionally crashed. The telephone lines remained down for another day, but the Internet returned on September 12. The hotel offered free access, and we lined up for our five-minute turn on the antiquated computer. I sent a bulk email and quickly read touching emails from my children, both in their early 20s. The Atlantic Ocean became an insurmountable obstacle for an unknown time. I remembered standing for a photo between the Twin Towers and couldn’t imagine the enormous level of destruction and evilness.

twin towers elaine

I devoured every newspaper I could find and still have copies of Il Mattino, The Wall Street Journal Europe, USA Today Italia, The Herald International Tribune, and other publications from that time. Most of the Europeans we met were supportive of Americans and mad about the terrorists. As more details emerged about the evil murderers, the moods of the Americans in our group changed from sorrow, disbelief, and fear, to anger and patriotism. The breathtaking beauty and splendor of Tuscany was momentarily clouded by our emotional pain.

A few days later, we learned we couldn’t fly home until September 22, so we continued on our journey. For a stranded tour group, Italy was the place to be. The food tasted better, the wine flowed freely, and we became best friends. None of us personally knew any of the victims, but we shared a strong American heritage. Going through the airport security in Venice became a stressful ordeal. We were thoroughly searched and patted, everything was removed and repacked in our luggage, and we stood in lines for hours. Finally we boarded the flight to New York City.

Landing at La Guardia Airport was a surreal experience. The passengers all clapped when the plane landed, but then quietly filed out of the plane. The airport was almost deserted, even though it was a Friday afternoon in New York. We boarded the airplane for Seattle and there were only a dozen passengers on the entire 747 airplane. We could see smoke and haze over the city, and we prayed until the plane had been in the air for twenty minutes.

I had several rows of seats all to myself, so I stretched out and tried to sleep. When awake, the polite flight attendants brought all the food and drinks I wanted. I made eye contact with them, and could tell which ones had been crying. We landed in Seattle, and I felt like kissing the ground. A few hours more, and I was back in Idaho.

twin tower new

I’ve returned to New York several times since then, and two years ago I took a photo of the new tower under construction. The strength and beauty of the new design is a testament to the resilient spirit of the people who love this country. I continue my love of travel, my respect for the United States of America, and my distain for the godless cowards who slaughtered so many precious lives and destroyed valuable property 14 years ago. We will never forget.

 

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #Idaho, #Italy, #terrorism, #travel, New York, Sept. 11

The Dilemma of the Dead Waitress

July 25, 2015 By Elaine Ambrose

farmhouse sign

My mother once owned Farmhouse Restaurant, an unpretentious diner outside of Wendell, Idaho. Travelers came from across the country to enjoy platters of chicken-fried steak, real mashed potatoes, monstrous loaves of Basque bread, a salad bar heaped with local produce, and a tempting selection of fresh pies. The eatery was voted “Best Road Food in America” in a 1996 nationwide survey of truck stops. Major media carried the story and NBC news anchor Tom Brokaw vowed to stop by during an Idaho vacation. The media referred to Mom as “jolly.”

basque bread farmhouse

I have a true story about the restaurant that only a few people know. One summer night, an hour before closing, one of the waitresses sat in a booth and died.

My teenage daughter, Mom, and I were eating a late dinner at the restaurant and noticed that our waitress hadn’t appeared for a while. She was a gentle widow in her late sixties and worked a few hours during the week to supplement her Social Security income. I got up to investigate and found her slumped in a back corner booth, her hands still surrounding a coffee cup. She was dead. This wasn’t a good scenario to have in a busy family restaurant.

I quietly alerted the restaurant manager to call the police and signaled for my daughter to join me. I explained the dilemma of the dead waitress and we began to clear the tables and inform customers we were closing early. We told the stragglers that it was a surprise promotion and their meals would be free. They left happy and never knew about the body in the corner booth.

We almost succeeded in clearing the restaurant when one of the other waitresses began to wail loudly. She had discovered her deceased friend and didn’t care that other patrons were gobbling their last bites of free pie. My mother escorted the sobbing woman into the kitchen while my daughter and I cajoled the diners and explained that one of the staff unexpectedly had left early. That was the truth.

The police arrived and everyone assumed they were coming for a late snack. Soon the restaurant was empty except for the officers, the coroner, the sad waitress, the manager, and us.

“Looks like a heart attack,” the coroner said as they gently lifted the body onto a gurney. “How about some of that fresh berry pie to go?”

pie

We boxed up pieces of pie for the officers and coroner and closed the restaurant. Then we sat and stared at the empty booth. The coffee cup remained on the table.

The coroner’s report indicated the waitress died from a sudden heart attack. For some dark humor, we agreed it was fortunate she wasn’t carrying a tray of food at the time. Everyone was fond of the waitress, and we paid our last respects at her memorial service. Back at the restaurant, we shared pie and coffee and told stories about our friend and about life in the restaurant business. Near closing time, someone left a generous tip next to a bouquet of fresh flowers.

 

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #Idaho, body, heart attack, restaurant, Wendell

Why I’m Proud to be an Idahoan

May 24, 2015 By Elaine Ambrose

lisa kidd stanley lake

This week a few disgruntled people mentioned on social media that they were ashamed to be Idahoans. I’d like to remind them that Idaho is bordered by six states and one other country, all within a day’s drive. Do they need gas money?

I’m a third-generation Idahoan, and some of my distant relatives walked here on the Oregon Trail. They never whined and moaned that they were ashamed to be pioneers. They kept walking, settled in the territory, planted crops, raised livestock, taught their children how to work, and built strong communities. They were proud to be self-sufficient, and celebrated when Idaho became a state.

Many residents now complain about politics, education, religion, women’s rights, and any new “It’s not fair!” grievance that offends them. I’d like to share a hearty meal of Idaho beef, mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, huckleberry pie, local wine, and some words of wisdom with them.

Politics. People move to Idaho from more liberal states to take advantage of the low cost of living, the family-friendly communities, the low crime rate, and the exquisite natural beauty of the state. Then they complain about the politics.

To them, I say don’t blame the politicians; blame the voters. If you want more progressive candidates, run for office or aggressively support other candidates. I’m irritated when perpetually-offended people in search of relevancy block the streets and yell in my face. I’m impressed when someone intelligently promotes a candidate or an important issue that earns my respect and my vote.

Education. I grew up in the farming village of Wendell with no opportunity for pre-school or kindergarten. I finished in 12 years and graduated from the same high school my parents graduated from 24 years earlier. I received a scholarship to the University of Idaho, graduated in four years, and began a successful career. Working during summer and spring breaks helped pay for college, and I finished debt-free. My children attended schools in Ada County and now are productive taxpayers, and my grandchildren, 5th generation Idahoans, attend local schools.

I willingly pay annual property taxes and thousands of dollars of my tax money are designated for education. So far, I’d like a better return on my investment. Throwing more money at education is not the answer. I advocate intensive training for parents to help them better prepare their young children for school and life. It’s not the responsibility of the schools or the teachers to raise children. Their purpose is to educate students to become well-rounded, self-sufficient adults.

Religion. I grew up as a Presbyterian in southern Idaho, and the predominant religion was Mormon. They were my friends, and we co-existed without anyone getting beheaded. I’ve visited Muslim countries, and I appreciate their culture but I wish more local Muslims would condemn the horrendous atrocities committed by evil people who distort the Islamic religion.

Idaho suppresses women. I support education and opportunity for women, and I’ve been the victim of discrimination. But instead of hollering about the system, I worked and was rewarded. I was Idaho’s first full-time television news reporter and talk show hostess, an officer at Idaho Bank & Trust, and a manager at Boise Cascade Corporation. By being productive and professional, women in my generation helped break the glass ceiling for younger women.

It’s not fair! Get a grip, Buttercup. There always will be those who are richer and poorer, those who succeed with little effort, and those who work hard and fail. It’s not fair that my friend, an avid health advocate, died of breast cancer at 40. It’s not fair that my father received a transplanted liver that had cancer and killed him at age 60. It’s not fair that I’m older, and my knee hurts, and my hair is falling out, and younger women seem to have it easier than I did. What’s fair is that we all woke up this morning and have another day to choose to be productive and happy.

Get to know Idaho. I’ve lived in Wendell, Moscow, Twin Falls, Boise, McCall, Eagle, and Garden Valley. Each place has wonderful citizens and a few assorted jerks. I’m convinced that if we avoid the trap of organized outrage and get to know each other, the state and the world would be better places.

This week I drove through the Sawtooth National Forest from Ketchum to Garden Valley. The magnificent vistas included rugged mountain peaks, lush meadows bordered with rustic log fences, and eagles soaring over tumbling rivers full of melted snow. This breathtaking reality proved why I am proud to be an Idahoan. Here are some photographs of our glorious state taken and copyrighted by my friend and former Wendell resident Lisa Kidd. (View her work at http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/lisa-kidd.html.)  If these reminders don’t convince some people to love Idaho, my gas money offer is still available.

lisa kidd flowers

 

 

lisa kidd water

 

 


lisa kidd sawtooth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #Idaho, #politics, pioneers, religion, women's rights

Midlife Cabernet: Cruising the Slow Lane

July 31, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

image [Read more…] about Midlife Cabernet: Cruising the Slow Lane

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #humor, #Idaho, #midlife

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