The phrase “we met at work” has particular meaning for me as I write this essay.  My friend Judy died this past weekend.  We met at work.  In this case, work was the Marketing Research Department of The New York Times in the 1980’s.  We were a close-knit group for the most part, half single, the married people mostly childless and  after long days we’d often go out for a drink before heading home.  We were yuppies, proud to be working at The Times.   I knew Judy less well than I knew the others, until one day she came into my cubicle with a confession.  She had applied to join the Peace Corps and, atypically, an assignment had become available…

Most of us will never forget September 11, 2001.  It was a day of tragedy and pain and unwavering bravery on the part of so many.  I was a new CEO, only a little over a year in my position and our offices were on Sixth Avenue and 18th Street in NYC.  We were hosting the London executives from our parent company that day, and we were intending to have a strategic planning session.  Right before the meeting started I remember sitting there, fuming, because the corporate COO had offered one of the men in the room tickets to a Yankee game that week.  I spoke up and said, “I love the Yankees! I’ve been a big fan since I was a small…