Miss Becky's Blog

An Ode to America

This article was written by Mr. Cornel Nistorescu and published under the title "C"ntarea Americii, meaning "Ode To America") in the Romanian newspaper, after the attack on our nation, Sept. 11th, 2001.

~An Ode toAmerica~

Why are Americans so united? They would not resemble one another even if you painted them all one color! They speak all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of civilizations and religious beliefs. Still, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put on the heart.

Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the army, and the secret services that they are only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts. Nobody rushed out onto the streets nearby to gape about. The Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand.

After the first moments of panic, they raised their flag over the smoking ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a government official or the president was passing.

On every occasion, they started singing their traditional song: "God Bless America!" I watched the live broadcast and rerun after rerun for hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey player, who gave his life fighting with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that could have killed other hundreds or thousands of people.

How on earth were they able to respond united as one human being?

Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth of tragic heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions of dollars were put in a collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit, which no money can buy.

What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land? Their galloping history? Their economic Power? Money? I tried for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases with the risk of sounding commonplace.

I thought things over, but I reached only one conclusion...Only freedom can work such miracles.

by Cornel Nistorescu

Democracy or Liberty

This article, or we call it a "column" by Walter E. Williams, professor at George Mason University in Washington, D.C. came out on Wednesday, February 28, 2007. It's interesting to see that DEMOCRACY and LIBERTY are not the same thing:

Does democracy really deserve the praise it receives? According to Webster's Dictionary, democracy is defined as "government by the people; especially: rule of the majority." What's so great about majority rule? Let's look at majority rule, as a decision-making tool, and ask how many of our choices we would like settled by what a majority likes.

Would you want the kind of car that you own to be decided through a democratic process, or would you prefer purchasing any car you please? Ask that same question about decisions such as where you live, what clothes you purchase, what food you eat, what entertainment you enjoy and what wines you drink. I'm sure that if anyone suggested that these choices be subject to a democratic process, you'd deem it tyranny.

I'm not alone in seeing democracy as a variant of tyranny. James Madison, the father of our Constitution, said that in a pure democracy, "there is nothing to check the inducement to sacrifice the weaker party or the obnoxious individual." At the 1787 Constitutional Convention, Edmund Randolph said, "...that in tracing these evils to their origin every man had found it in the turbulence and follies of democracy." John Adams said, "Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There was never a democracy yet that did not commit suicide." Chief Justice John Marshall observed, "Between a balanced republic and a democracy, the difference is like that between order and chaos."

Our founders intended for us to have a limited republican form of government where rights precede government and there is rule of law. Citizens, as well as government officials, are accountable to the same laws. Government intervenes in civil society only to protect its citizens against force and fraud but does not intervene in the cases of peaceable, voluntary exchange. By contrast, in a democracy, the majority rules either directly or through its elected representatives. The law is whatever the government deems it to be. Rights may be granted or taken away.

Clearly, we need government, and that means there must be collective decision-making. Alert to the dangers of majority rule, the Constitution's framers inserted several anti-majority rules. In order to amend the Constitution, it requires a two-thirds vote of both Houses, or two-thirds of state legislatures, to propose an amendment, and requires three-fourths of state legislatures for ratification. Election of the president is not done by a majority popular vote but by the Electoral College.

Part of the reason for having two houses of Congress is that it places an obstacle to majority rule. Fifty-one senators can block the wishes of 435 representatives and 49 senators. The Constitution gives the president a veto to thwart the power of 535 members of Congress. It takes two-thirds of both houses of Congress to override the president's veto.

In Federalist Paper No. 10, James Madison wrote, "Measures are too often decided, not according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority." That's another way of saying that one of the primary dangers of majority rule is that it confers an aura of legitimacy and respectability on acts that would otherwise be deemed tyrannical. Liberty and democracy are not synonymous and could actually be opposites.

Dr. Williams serves on the faculty of George Mason University as John M. Olin Distinguished Professor of Economics and is the author of More Liberty Means Less Government: Our Founders Knew This Well.

The Pilgrims and the First Thanksgiving

America was founded by men and women who came to these shores lifting eyes toward heaven.

In England four hundred years ago there lived a group of people we now call the Pilgrims. Their lives were not happy because they were not allowed to worship God the way they chose. When they tried to pray in their own way, they were thrown into prison or driven from their homes and jobs.

Finally, in 1620, they could bear it no longer.

Leaving all they loved behind, they boarded a small ship called the Mayflower and ventured out to sea. Perhaps they could practice their faith in that vast, far-off wilderness called America.

For two long hard months the Pilgrims crossed the stormy Atlantic Ocean. The Mayflower pitched and shook. Its beams groaned and its sides leaked. Men, women, and children grew ill. But at last they arrived in the New World.

They came ashore, fell on their knees, and thanked God for bringing them across the wide and furious waters. At once they began the business of founding their colony. First they built a large house for common use. Then they built smaller houses for each family. They named the village New Plymouth after the city in England from which they had set sail.

It was the heart of winter, and Plymouth Colony was in for a harsh, cruel beginning. The Pilgrims shivered in freezing winds and driving rains as they struggled to build their huts. The earth froze hard. Food was scarce - every night they wondered if there would be enough to eat the next day. And always they knew the Indians were watching. They heard their whoops and calls through the woods and

saw smoke rising from their fires.

Then came the sickness. Many of the Pilgrims grew

weak from lack of food and warmth. They lay in their beds, coughing and gasping for breath. Some-times only a handful of settlers were well enough to cook and care for all the sick. Half of the people died that long first winter. As the living buried their dead, they prayed and wondered if coming to America had not been a tragic mistake. But

still they, placed their faith in God.

Winter passed. The icy earth softened. One March day, as the settlers stared in wonder, a lone Indian strolled calmly into Plymouth, raised his hand, and

“Welcome!" In broken English he told the Pilgrims his name was Samoset. He had learned their lang-uage from English fishermen who had visited the shores of the New World. He told them that the Indians who lived nearby were called the Wampanoags and were ruled by a wise chief

named Massasoit.

A few days later Massasoit himself strode into Plymouth village with several of his braves. The Pilgrims spread a rug on the floor of an unfinished house and invited their visitors to sit. They ate and drank and talked together. They promised to live as neighbors and signed a treaty that kept the peace between the two peoples for many years.

Massasoit brought with him an Indian named

Squanto, who spoke English. The settlers were amazed to hear this man's story. He had once been kidnapped by a sea captain and taken to Europe to be sold as a slave. Making his way to London, he had lived several years in the Pilgrims' own homeland before sailing back to the New World with English

explorers.

It was Squanto who now stayed with the Pilgrims and helped them learn how to live in this strange, wild land. He showed them how to plant corn. He taught them how to fish, and catch eels in the rivers, and dig in the mud for clams. He taught them how to hunt for deer in the forests. He showed them which berries were good to eat and which ones would make them sick. If not for Squanto's wisdom and aid, the little Plymouth colony may well have vanished.

Summer came. In the warm weather the Pilgrims grew stronger. With stout hearts they went to work in their fields and gardens. God blessed the land with sunshine and showers. The men and women of Plymouth watched the crops push up through the soil and prayed, for they knew they could not make it through the next winter without a good harvest.

The growing season passed and the days grew shorter. Fruit ripened. The pumpkins swelled orange and round. Autumn came in a blaze of glory, dressing the forests in gold and red and brown. The Pilgrims gathered the harvest, stored their food, and prepared themselves for the long, cold months that lay ahead.

They had much to be thankful for. The corn had grown well. The rivers and woods teemed with fish and game. The little houses were finished and ready for winter. The settlers had recovered their health and strength, and they had all good things in plenty.

It was time to celebrate the harvest and thank God for the blessings He had bestowed upon them. The Pilgrims sent a message to the Indians, inviting them to join a feast. Then they set about preparing. The men went into the fields and forests to hunt ducks, geese, and turkeys. The women stood beside the fires kneading, slicing, and roasting. The settlers set up long tables outside and placed rough benches beside them.

King Massasoit arrived with ninety of his braves. They brought five deer, their gift to the feast. Then the Pilgrims and Indians shared the bounty of the land. They ate fish and wildfowl and venison. From the bay there were clams, scallops, and oysters. From the forests came nuts and berries, and from the gardens came carrots, turnips, and onions. They feasted on stewed pumpkin, corn cakes, and bowls of chowder.

They celebrated with games as well. The settlers and

Indians held shooting contests with both guns and bows. The young men challenged each other in foot races and wrestling matches. The Englishmen did jigs for the Indians, and the Indians in turn showed off their own dances.

For three days the feast continued. The Pilgrims knew well that more days of trial and hardship lay ahead. But for now, they rejoiced together over the gifts they had received. They thanked God for bringing them across the stormy ocean and seeing them through the long, harsh winter. They thanked Him for the bountiful fruits of their labor. They gave thanks for their Indian friends. And they gave

thanks for this new land, where they could worship as they pleased.

Every year we in America remember that long-ago feast called the First Thanksgiving. On the fourth Thursday of each November, we rejoice that friends and loved ones have gathered safely together. We celebrate the fruits of our labor. We recall that throughout our nation's past, our ancestors risked their lives so we might be free. We bow our heads in thanks for all the bounty of this land and for the many blessings we have received.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ever since this First American Thanksgiving celebration and feast, Americans would celebrate something like this during the fall. In different states it was observed at different times.

Then, on October 3, 1863, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, signed a Proclamation, asking the American people to observe the last Thursday of November as a day of thanksgiving for the victories and blessings of the year.

The Proclamation begins: “The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added . . .

“In the midst of a civil war of unequal magnitude and severity . . . peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere, except in the theater of military conflict.”

So from this time forward Americans have celebrated THANKSGIVING on the last Thursday of November (now the fourth Thursday of November). Family members and friends gather together to enjoy each other and give thanks to God for all the things he has blessed them with.

Five Years Later . . . September 11th

Five years ago, the hijacked airliners of September 11, 2001, gave rise to many changes in the world; the smoke from the fires signaling a break with life as we once knew it. The attacks shattered our national illusion of safety and our complacency that the United States was somehow above the violent terrorism so common in other countries. They put into motion many political changes in the U.S. and around the globe, the outcome of which is still to be decided. They left many individuals with an emtional legacy of fear and anger, and other with a renewed sense of urgency in promoting peace and reconciliation. They certainly played a role in altering the world's consciousness and spirit in ways that are, and may always be, mysterious. Can we ever fully understand the big picture?

The memories of the dear ones lost that day live on in our hearts, next to the ache that has replaced their vibrant presence there. Those who did not lose a beloved person may have lost a jobor a home or a familiar way of life. Perhaps they were shaken by the loss of an inner security they'd always felt. Perhaps some senseof universal order fell away. But whatever each individual experienced, no one was left untouched.

Here, five years later, are some stories from some individuals who worked for one company, whose offices were in the World Trade Center that day and it's aftermath:

* For five years, Howard Lutnick and his brokerage firm (deals with buying and selling stock investments), Cantor Fitzgerald, have been fighting back from the horror and heartache of 9/11. The company's offices occupied Floors 101 through 105 in Tower One of the World Trade Centers. The worst terror attacks in American's history killed every one of the 658 employees (brokers, traders, technology specialists, and secretaries) who were at their desks that morning, including Lutnick's brothers. It was the single greatest loss suffered by any company or organization. After three moves and countless business crises, the firm's future is secure again, and it now has more employees than before the attacks.

Lutnick, who lived because he was taking his son to his first day of kindergarten, calls the recovery "miraculous" and credits those who lives were spared and stayed with Cantor. "The normal course of events is you have a crisis, and you go for weeks sorting it out. But in the fall of 2001, we'd have a crisis at nine and another at eleven and then another at one. We were in crisis mode for basically a year."

Survivors are quick to share storeis of 90-hour work weeks (the usual is 40 hours), of adrenaline-fueled problem-solving, and of an unshakable belief in one another. Work was not just a distraction; most say it healed them.

For a long time, it was tough to talk with anyone outside of Cantor about what they'd been through. "The only place where I felt like myself was work. I needed to be around other people who'd been where I'd been." report some of Cantor's employees.

* Harry Waizer, Cantor's tax specialist, was out to dinner recently with his wife, Karen, and someone he hadn't met before. "It came out that I'd been in the building on 9/11, and she asked if I minded telling my story and for the first time ever, I turned to Karen and said, 'Why don't you tell it?' I've though about why I did that. For one thing, my children where there. I don't think I've ever told the story of that day to my children. But I also think it was part of ... just putting it behind you. I went through a period in which I told the story multiple times because everyone who visited wanted to hear it. But that has stopped. I don't particularl want to go back to that time."

Waizer was in an elevator high in the North Tower when the plan struck. Flames ignited inside the elevator and he was badly burned on his body and face and in his throat. Now he's back at the firm working three days a week. He says he wished he'd been with his colleagues from day one. "While they were burning the midnight oil, I was, for two months, lying in an induced coma, and for months more I was in a hospital bed, and then I was going through rehabilitation. So I never had the chance to deal with it in a group way, day in and day out. What I dealt with was the personal impact of 9/11."

What triggers his memory of "The Day"? "It's elevators. For a very long time, I couldn't get on an elevator without thinking back, and every time something our of the ordinary happens on an elevator, I get taken back and I remember that day.

* Frank Walczak, a life-long surfer, had taken the day off on September 11 to catch the waves. Sitting on his surf-board in the water, just south of New Jersey, Walczak saw smoke pouring out of the Trade Center. He began calling the office and the homes of his colleagues. No one on the foreign exchange desk where he worked survived. Walczak had to reinvent himself as an equities trader.

"I still feel a tremendous sense of loss. You start to think of how much time you spent with these people. More time than with your own family." Walczak says he has been able to honor his friends through work. "I needed to do this. I can't imagine going somewhere else. I feel like what we're doing comes from within. We're rebuilding the company and rebuilding ourselves. It gies you a sense of completion."

Overall, though, he feels happy. He feels happy. He now works in Cantor's Shrewsbury, New Jersey office, eight minutes away from home. He can surf nearly every summer evening if he wants.

* Cantor Partner David Kravette, a childhood friend of Lutnick and one of only two Cantor survivors who had been in the office that morning and left before the plane hit . . . He lived because a customer had forgotten his photo ID and Kravette needed to clear him through lobby security. He had considered sending his secretary but decided to go himself because she was seven and a half months pregnant. After the initial explosion, he saw an elevator free-fall to the ground and a fireball of jet fuel rage through the lobby straight at him before "it just stopped and sucked back in on itself."

In the firm's post 9/11 rebuilding, Kravettte was forced to switch jobs and become an equities trader after a dozen years trading bonds. He's progressed quickly and is more successful than he's ever been.

For a year after the attacks, he woke up ofent in the night, short of breath and full of panic. He found the only thing that helped was work. He thinks often about the friends he lost.

* LaChanze Fordjour was in her ninth month of pregnancy on September 11th when her husband, Calvin Gooding, a Cantor employee died in the attacks. She was one of 38 wives of Cantor Fitzgerald victims who were pregnant. At the birth of her baby she told friends that she could never imagine remarrying and she was irritated with those who suggested it.

In December after the attacks, an author heard about LaChanze's loss, called her and told her she needed to get out of the house and start working. She then offered LaChanze an opportunity to try out for a role in an Off Broadway theater near Times Square. It changed everything. "I really was spiraling down," she says. "I was an unemployed actress with two children, a husband who had died. My prospects were slim. I got that job, and I saw that I could be productive. That I had things I could bring to people."

Her children were instrumental in her healing. "I call them my earth angels because they forced me out of myself. It was important to be able to take care of someone else." She says she thinks of Calvin every day when she puts her children to bed. Her older daughter, six-year-old Celia, shares Calvin's features and his boisterous personality. Zaya is more introspective, thought just as smart. She's four and reading at a second-grade level. Two years ago she met the artist Derek Fordjour and she has married him.

* "For a good six months my life was a black hole," says Phil Marber, the popular head of Cantor Fitzgerald Equities. "For a long time I couldn't really figure out why I wasn't there with everybody else. And then you ask, what's my purpose in life? Things like that. All I wanted was to get the company back to where it was, to the level we were at in 2000."

Marber says he can't imagine wht life would be life if the firm had gone under. He has too much of himself invested in it. Now that his division is doing better than ever, he's beginning to let himself relax and spend more time with his two teenage daughters. And he takes great pride in the fact that the firm has paid out more than $180 million of its profits to the families of their employees who died that day. "We've survived, and we've lived up to our promises, and I feel very good about that."

****************************************************************************

These stories are great examples of individuals over coming great loss in a very difficult situation. I salute those who have worked so hard to overcome these challenges and move happily forward in their lives! A great example of the strength of the human spirit, the power of work and helping one another, the things that really make "miracles" happened.

America Heals . . . After September 11, 2001

Written by Miss Becky a few weeks following the attack on September 11, 2001

AMERICA HEALS . . .

Americans are coming together to help each other heal from the effects of the terrorist attack -- it will take lots of time, but there are some great supportive things happening. You might be interested to know that our son, Brady, who is in New York city volunteered along with several other missionaries the next day at the Red Cross in New York. They were working on the phone bank, taking calls and calling people to come and work at the different relief centers that the Red Cross had set up. The next day on Thursday Brady, who has great computer skills, spent 15 hours there at the Red Cross setting up a database on the computer for them to use in scheduling people to come and work, as some people were getting different calls and being scheduled to work two or three 12 hours shifts at one time. He spend Friday morning finishing up the computer work there. He also said that "the city is much different now than it was before . . Friday night, people were lighting candles EVERYWHERE! The sidewalks were lined with candles, and people were walking around carrying candles. People are definitely turning to God right now!"

Americans all over the country are giving money and blood to help -- in fact we have enough blood, and they have asked us to stop giving. It was neat to learn of two young girls (12 and 13 years old) in our area who wanted to help because they felt so bad for the people in New York and Washington D.C. The girls and some of their friends stood across the street from their Logan homes collecting money through a raffle for a teddy bear and by selling treats to people passing by. By 6 pm they had collected $330.

There have been many memorial events all across the country. At sporting and performing events they have started with some very patriotic music and thoughts of what has happened. One of the most popular songs sung now is "God Bless America".

We have received reports that most of the Chinese people support the USA in bring to justice the people responsible for this terrible thing. I certainly want that, but I hope and pray that more innocent people will not be hurt or killed. The situation in Afghanistan is soooo bad for the people there right now -- the Taliban government does not seem to care about the people at all. It has been reported that they have taken all the food from the people and thousands of the people are leaving the country. I certainly hope that we can help these people. Our daughter sent us a very interesting idea for fighting this war that I want to share with you .... it's a different way of thinking:

"A military response, particularly an attack on Afghanistan, is exactly what the terrorists want. It will strengthen and swell their small but fanatical ranks.

"Instead, bomb Afghanistan with butter, with rice, bread, clothing and medicine. It will cost less than conventional arms, poses no threat of US casualties and just might get the populace thinking that maybe the Taliban don't have the answers. After three years of drought and with starvation looming, let's offer the Afghani people the vision of a new future. One that includes full stomachs. Bomb them with information. Video players and cassettes of world leaders, particularly Islamic leaders, condemning terrorism. Carpet the country with magazines and newspapers showing the horror of terrorism committed by their "guest". Blitz them with laptop computers and DVD players filled with a perspective that is denied them by their government. Saturation bombing with hope will mean that some of it gets through. Send so much that the Taliban can't collect and hide it all.

"The Taliban are telling their people to prepare for Jihad. Instead, let's give the Afghani people their first good meal in years. Seeing your family fully fed and the prospect of stability in terms of food and a future is a powerful deterrent to martyrdom. All we ask in return is that they, as a people, agree to enter the civilized world. That includes handing over terrorists in their midst.

"In responding to terrorism we need to do something different. Something unexpected...something that addresses the root of the problem. We need to take away the well of despair, ignorance and brutality from which the Osama bin Laden's of the world water their gardens of terror. It is important that we learn to think in NEW ways. If we continue attacking in the old ways we will get the same old results. Look at what has been happening in the middle east for thousands of years to see what we can expect if we attack with bombs and military force. Do we want to live a life of fear as people in the middle east do?"

What do you think of this idea???

It really got me to thinking and remembering that the best way we can destroy an enemy is to love them and make them your friends. I hope and pray that our leaders will explore every possible solution, including this one to find some new and hopefully more effective ways to deal with this problem, rather than using violence.

Just for Being Americans

My brother sent me this column or essay, by Dave Barry, a humorist, that he wrote last week, following the attack of September 11, 2001. The column touched me and I agree with what he is saying -- I love our country, I love being an American and I LOVE ALL OF YOU!

Published Thursday, September 13, 2001

JUST FOR BEING AMERICANS

By DAVE BARRY

No humor column today. I don't want to write it, and you don't want to read it.

No words of wisdom, either. I wish I were wise enough to say something that would help make sense of this horror, something that would help ease the unimaginable pain of the victims' loved ones, but I'm not that wise. I'm barely capable of thinking. Like many others, I've spent the hours since Tuesday morning staring at the television screen, sometimes crying, sometimes furious, but mostly just stunned.

What I can't get out of my mind is the fact that they used our own planes. I grew up in the Cold War, when we always pictured the threat as coming in the form of missiles -- sleek, efficient death machines, unmanned, hurtling over the North Pole from far away. But what came, instead, were our own commercial airliners, big friendly flying buses coming from Newark and Boston with innocent people on board. Red, white and blue planes, with ``United'' and ``American'' written on the side. The planes you've flown in and I've flown in. That's what they used to attack us. They were able to do it in part because our airport security is pathetic. But mainly they were able to do it because we are an open and trusting society that simply is not set up to cope with evil men, right here among us, who want to kill as many Americans as they can.

That's what's so hard to comprehend: They want us to die just for being Americans. They don't care which Americans die: military Americans, civilian Americans, young Americans, old Americans. Baby Americans. They don't care. To them, we're all mortal enemies. The truth is that most Americans, until Tuesday, were only dimly aware of their existence, and posed no threat to them. But that doesn't matter to them; all that matters is that we're Americans. And so they used our own planes to kill us.

And then their supporters celebrated in the streets.

I'm not naive about my country. My country is definitely not always right; my country has at times been terribly wrong. But I know this about Americans: We don't set out to kill innocent people. We don't cheer when innocent people die.

A DECENT PEOPLE

The people who did this to us are monsters; the people who cheered them have hate-sickened minds. One reason they can cheer is that they know we would never do to them what their heroes did to us, even though we could, a thousand times worse. They know that when we hunt down the monsters, we will try hard not to harm the innocent. Those are the handcuffs we willingly wear, because for all our flaws, we are a decent people.

And now we are a traumatized people. The TV commentators keep saying that the attacks have awakened a ``sleeping giant.'' And I guess we do look like a giant, to the rest of the world. But when I look around, I don't see a giant: I see millions of individuals -- the resilient and caring citizens of New York and Washington; the incredibly brave firefighters, police officers and rescue workers risking their lives in the dust and flames; the politicians standing on the steps of the Capitol and singing an off-key rendition of God Bless America that, corny as it was, had me weeping; the reporters and photographers who have not slept, and will not sleep, as long as there is news to report; the people in my community, and communities across America, lining up to give blood, wishing they could do more.

A GOOD COUNTRY

No, I don't see a giant. What I see is Americans. We may have the power of a giant, but we also have the heart of a good and generous people, and we will get through this. We will grieve for our dead, and tend to our wounded, and repair the damage, and tighten our security, and put our planes back in the air. Eventually most of us, the ones lucky enough not to have lost somebody, will resume our lives. Some day, our country will track down the rest of the monsters behind this, and make them pay, and I suppose that will make most of us feel a little better. But revenge and hatred won't be why we'll go on. We'll go on because we know this is a good country, a country worth keeping.

Those who would destroy it only make us see more clearly how precious it is.

A Letter from Miss Becky on September 11, 2001

Dear Special Friends,

Today (September 11, 2001) has been a very sad and tragic day for America and some are saying this is war. This morning some terrorist hijacked four commercial airplanes flying from the east coast to California and crashed them into the two towers of the of the World Trade Center in New York City and those buildings later fell to the ground (they were 110 floors high) killing and injuring hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people. Then just a few minutes later a plane crashed into the Pentagon, the top Military Building of our National Defense, in Washington D.C. and then a fourth plane crashed in a field in Pennsylvania (near Washington D.C.) and no one knows where that plane was intending to go. There will be many, many killed by this -- it's too early to know the number yet.

This has paralyzed our nation today. All United States airplanes were grounded for at least 24 hours and all international planes flying to the US returned to other bases if possible. (Our daughter's friend flying to Los Angeles from Germany was in the air and they had to return to Europe.) Our son K.C. was on a plane here in Salt Lake City, but they could not take off, he was on his way to Little Rock, Arkansas for his work. He is scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon if there are no other problems. Many national parks and places of entertainment, concerts, and special TV programs have been closed, cancelled or postponed.

We have been to New York City a few times. Our daughter Amy lived and worked there for a year and a half and our son Brady lives there now. He is serving a mission for our church. We were not worried about him, as he lives about 8 kms from where the buildings were hit. But it was good that he called us to let us know for sure that he was OK. We are very grateful. All of our children have called us today to make sure that Brady is OK, as well as both my sisters, my parents, a niece and several other friends.

This attack on our fellow citizens and our freedom is very serious. It has been said today that this is worst attack on our country since the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. The difference is that Pearl Harbor was an attack of military against military. Today, it was innocent people attacked by an unknown enemy. Our President will be talking to the nation tonight on television. I know the enemy wants us to be fearful and afraid, but I want you to know that my belief in God gives me confidence. I'm praying that God will comfort the families of the many victims of this action; that God will give wisdom and guidance to our authorities and armed forces as they respond to this situation and that individually God will bless each of us with a "peace of mind" and continued hope and desire to work for PEACE and LOVE throughout the whole world.

Please know that Ken and I love each of you as a brother or sister, son or daughter, as special eternal friends and we hope for the day when all the people of the world will have the opportunity to get to know and love each other as we have and learn that we are truly BROTHERS and SISTERS in the human family, that we are much more alike than different. I pray for that day to come.

Love to all of you,
Miss Becky

Remembering September 11, 2001

It was five years ago today that the attack on the World Trade Center occurred, changing life in Amercia and effecting the entire world. At that time, Americans all across our country united to help support the victims and do whatever we could. There was a great spirit of love for our country and the freedoms we enjoy, along with great sadness that there are so many people in the world with hearts full of hate and want to kill others.

Many, many Americans starting displaying and flying the American flag after September 11th, not just on holidays, but many are flown all the time.

Here is a picture of me with a "rag" flag that I made from small squares and strips of fabric after September 11th and we display this flag several times during the year. Today my "rag" flag will be displayed along with our real American flag to honor all those who lives were so tragically affected that day AND to recognize the many thousands of others who have given their lives to protect our freedoms, not just of Americans but others in the world as well.

This picture was taken on September 10, 2006 on my front porch, my "rag" flag in the background.

TODAY ... September 11, 2006 -- It has been a special day, the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks five years ago in New York and Washington D.C.

Today, thousands of Americans came out to honor those killed 9/11. In New York City, at the 16-acres where the WTC Towers stood and which is still mostly barren, the names of each person killed were revently read most by tearful loved ones holding photos to their hearts and blowing kisses to the sky. In Washington, D.C. at the Pentagon, and windswept Pennsylvania field, and in simpler, quiet moments in airport security lines, at churches or by themselves, Americans paused to reflect on the worst terrorist act on U.S. soil.

In New York City tonight there are two columns of light from "ground zero" reaching up into the heavens ... a haunting reminder of the World Trade Towers that once stood there. President Bush spoke to the nation tonight on TV ... just like he did five years ago. I thought it was a good talk and expressed the feelings of most Americans. I'll try to get a copy of his speech and post it on my block.

Another impressive thing today was the "Healing Field" in the city of Sandy, Utah, where I lived and attended school. Sandy is just south of Salt Lake City a few miles. The "Healing Field" is a big green lawn area where 3,000 American Flags on eight foot poles were place in row upon row, one flag for every person killed on September 11, 2001.340 It's a very impressive sight. The flag flown there is a very special one, with the name of each person killed on 9/11, all 3,000 printed on the red and white strips of the flag -- see picture. Thousands of people visited the "Healing Field" touching the flags, reading the names on the flag, walking up and down the rows and not only remembered and paid honor to the victims of 9/11 but to ALL the men and women who have fought and given their lives so we Americans can enjoy the freedoms we have today. The idea of the "Healing Field" started here in Sandy, Utah in 2001 when 3,000 smaller flags were placed in a green field right after 9/11. There were only 3 Utah people killed that day, however all Americans felt the pain and reached out to help our fellow Americans anyway we could. This type of place, with all the flags really touched people's hearts and "healing" began. The idea has spread to many other American cities. Visiting a place like this not only helps those who have lost love ones, but it's also a good way to teach children and young people that "freedom isn't free" and we owe the gift of FREEDOM to the many sacrifices of others.

This week I'm posting articles and stories about September 11th including what happened in our life those days; a special LOVE story from victims in New York City; and an update regarding how people have tried to rebuild their lives during the past five years.

There is another reason that September 11th is an important day in my life . . .

It was on September 11, 1964 that Ken and I were married in the temple in Salt Lake City. For various reasons in 2001 we had a wonderful, unique anniversary celebration the night before on September 10th. We were so glad that we celebrated early because after the events of that morning, we did not feel like celebrating, our hearts were very sad and hurt.

We celebrated our anniversary early again this year. Last Saturday evening Ken and I took our son, Jason and his wife, Missy, to a special dinner/show called "Celebrate America" ... the food was good and the show honored all our military people. Ken and I really enjoyed the dancing to the "Big Band Music" (we had done a lot of dancing while courting, before we were married).

In the picture below I'm wearing the necklace that Ken gave me on the day of our marriage, 42 years ago. It has my birthstone set in a small heart ... the stone is blue in color, so it was the "something blue" I wore at my wedding! The picture is of a Temple, like where we were married ... this picture hangs just inside our front door.

This is also a special anniversary for us this year, as it's the first one that we have been together since 2002. In 2003 I was in Las Vegas welcoming a new grandson to earth; in 2004 I was in Baltimore, Maryland on the east coast of America, caring for our son's children while their mother had a medical procedure done; and in 2005 I was helping our daughter, Kara, move to Boston to start work on her PhD and I visited our son's family in Maryland.

This picture was taken on September 11, 2003, with Amy's three boys in Las Vegas ... from left to right is McKay, the oldest, baby Gavin and Jack holding the ball. See the flowers Ken had sent to me for our anniversary -- they were so beautiful -- roses, the flower of love.

Today, September 11, 2006, Ken and I had lunch at our cabin ... the mountains are so beautiful at this time of year as the leaves are turning different autumn colors.

It's been a good day, full of memories, love of family, gratitude for my country, and pride in my fellow Americans.

A Time to Heal ... a LOVE story from September 11th

Dearest Friends . . .

This is one of the "Love Letters" that I sent to our Chinese Friends after September 11, 2001 (so some of you may have already read it). But it is a wonderful TRUE story showing the power of love. We never know what can happen to those we love and when a couple marry they promise to love and help each other, regardless what happens. This story also helps us realize the impact of 9/11 in the lives of individual people. As you read this article, note all the different people who "helped" this lady, especially the medical people.

I would like to dedicate this story to all our Chinese MEDICAL friends who are dedicating their lives to the service of others ... it's not an easy thing to do and it can be very difficult at times. But you can and are making an important difference in the world, one person at a time, and you are loved for it.

A TIME TO HEAL, by Greg Manning (Reader's Digest, April 2002) A picture of the couple is attached.

At eight o'clock on the morning of September 11, 2001, my wife, Lauren, was a vibrant, athletic and beautiful woman, the picture of health. At about 8:30 am she breezed through our living room, saying how she'd solved a scheduling problem, making business calls that delayed her departure about 15 minutes. She lingered in the hallway, saying goodbye to our ten-month-old son, Tyler. Then she headed off to work, in a taxi to the World Trade Center, where she was (and is) a senior vice president and director of global sales data for the Cantor Fitzgerald Company.

Less than 20 minutes later, as I was listening to the radio I heard "What's this? A plane hit the World Trade Center?" Running to the terrace of our apartment, I looked down toward the Twin Towers. At the top of Tower One, I saw a vast hole billowing black smoke. I could see that a plane had hit at or just below Cantor's offices and that the impact had been huge. I kept calling Lauren's phone numbers, but her office line was busy and her cell phone wasn't ringing. I paced the apartment, pounding the wall.

Then I watched as the second plane hit Tower Two, seemingly right at the 84th floor, my office at Euro Brokers, where I was a senior vice president. Part of me was in shock: I'd been scheduled to attend a conference that morning at Windows on the World on the 107th floor.

Friends and family began calling our home to make sure we were all right. I couldn't say whether Lauren was alive; I was almost certain she was dead.

But she wasn't.

Arriving at the World Trade Center, she'd heard a whistling sound, entered the lobby to investigate and been met by anexplosive fireball. She ran outside in flames. A salesman saw her and two others running from the building. He raced across the street to her and put out the flames that were consuming her. Lauren was lucid enough to tell the man her name and number. People had fled, and there was no one else around for blocks. As heavy steel debris fell from a thousand feet above them, the man stayed with Lauren until the ambulance came.

At about 9:35 am our phone rang. A breathless voice said, "Mr. Manning, I'm with your wife. She's been badly burned, but she's going to be okay. We got her in an ambulance." Then the phone cut off. I learned later that this man had saved Lauren's life.

Twenty minutes later a nurse called to tell me Lauren was at St. Vincent's Hospital, eight blocks away. Fighting tears, not knowing what to expect, I made my way there through the stunned crowds. I found Lauren in a bed on the tenth floor, all but her face draped in white sheets. Her skin looked deeply tanned. Her eyebrows had been burned off and her beautiful blond hair was charred. The first think she said to me was "Get me to a burn unit."

Then she said, "Greg, I was on fire. I ran out. I prayed to die. Then I decided to live for Tyler and you." She asked me to apply balm to her blistered lips. Her pain grew and she begged for morphine. She became less aware, and her face began to swell from the IV fluids she was receiving. They transferred her to a private room and asked me to step out. For the next two hours the nurses dressed her wounds.

At five that afternoon, a bed was found for her in the Burn Center at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. Lauren was taken to a glass-walled room on the eighth floor, where doctors and nurses surrounded her bed. Someone let me to the waiting room down the hall. Heartbroken and desperate, I sagged into a chair.

Lauren had been burned over 82 percent of her body--the majority of her burns third-degree.

HANGING IN THERE . . . With the city locked down, home seemed far away, unreachable. Joyce, Tyler's Nanny (a nanny is a person hired to care for children in their own homes) stayed with our son that night while I dozed in the waiting room in case I was called to Lauren's bedside.

On Wednesday, Lauren's parents arrived from Savannah, Georgia. They would end up staying with us for the next three months, giving us a major assist. Lauren's sister came in from New Jersey and her brother from North Carolina. I asked my own family in Florida--my parents and my sister--to remain at home for the time being; I didn't have a place for them to stay, and I promised to keep them posted on Lauren's condition.

On Thursday a gray-haired man in a white coat met me in the waiting room. Dr. Roger Yurt was the director of the Burn Center and Lauren's doctor. In a calm voice he described exactly what she was up against. The first 72 hours were the resuscitation phase, during which she was receiving an extraordinary amount of fluids to replace those she was losing through her wounds. She was heavily sedated and would remain in a drug-induced coma for weeks. She was on a ventilator to support her breathing and there was a feeding tube in her nose.

Once Lauren was resuscitated, Dr. Yurt said he would perform numerous grafts to close her wounds and control her injury. Only after she was "closed" would she be out of danger; until then, infection would be a constant threat. The prognosis was bleak, but I felt the first twinge of hope. If anyone on this earth could save Lauren, I thought, Dr. Yurt was the onel.

On Saturday night, September 15, another critical burn patient died, reducing by one the large group of shattered families that had been bonding (getting acquainted and learning to love and support each other) in the waiting room since September 11th. Dr. Palmer Q. Bessey, Yurt's associate director, came out to deliver the news to that patient's family. Later on, he saw me, "She's hanging in there pretty well," he said. "She's going to get sicker before she gets better." Then he added, "But we're going to do everything we can to pull her through. I don't want those bastards to get another person."

On Sunday, September 16, I was told that Lauren's chances were less than 50/50--probably far less. (I was to learn later they were about 15 percent.) I found solace with a rabbi (Jewish priest or church leader) who had come to the Burn Center, and at my request he came in to Lauren's room so that she might hear the holy language and know we were praying for her. That night another World Trade Center burn patient died.

Day after day family, friends and colleagues called from around the world. It grew difficult to repeat the full story, yet I realized that the short version seemed little more than a medical update and that it said nothing of Lauren's courage. So I began writing e-mails. I told everyone about her skin-graft surgeries. I explained how her greatest injuries were to her hands, especially her dominant left hand. Mostly I told everyone how hard Lauren was fighting--about the bravery I saw every day as I sat beside her bed. And as a token of my faith in her, I signed every e-mail the same way: "Love, Greg & Lauren."

CRITICAL CONDITION . . . October 7, 2001. The doctors have done extensive skin grafts on Lauren's back, legs, and left arm and hand. The donor skin was harvested from some undamaged areas of her body--in one case, her scalp. (The scalp is a good choice cosmetically, as the hair grows back to cover any scars.) I've learned that about 80 to 90 percent of these early grafts have now adhered. Though Lauren is still in highly critical condition, this is excellent news.

She remains in a drug-induced coma, but she was more responsive yesterday morning than she has been so far. In the afternoon she was taken to the tank, the room where patients are given a bath that helps remove burned tissue and promote healing. When I saw her back in her room afterward, Lauren's eyes were moving slightly beneath her lids. Her features were becoming more defined, and there are fewer bandages on her face. As one of the nurses put it, "That face is pink," meaning the skin is recovering nicely.

I sat in a chair and looked at my wife. She is largely immobilized and hasn't spoken for nearly four weeks. Time has begun to add up. After taking care of Tyler in the morning, I'm here every day--as are her mom and dad and sister on weekends. But Lauren hasn't truly been around for almost a month.

Her injuries have sent her on a journey far away. We've been trying to get her back, and she has been struggling to come back since. When I see her eyelids move, or her lips, or her arm, I know she's feeling something. I'm incredibly impatient to hear about things from her side.

Lauren's nurse last night was a man who had once studied to be a Catholic priest. He told me that the period since September 11 has changed everyone on the Burn Center staff, just as it's changed the lives of the patients and their families. When he gets tired, he said, he can go home and sleep--while the patients he's treating must struggle 24 hours, 7 days every week.

Since he hadn't heard it before, I told him our story of the morning of September 11. It dawned on me that Lauren probably could not drop and roll (we teach people in America to "drop and roll" if their clothes are on fire to put out the fire as quickly as possible) after she ran from the lobby, (a question that has nagged at me), because she had to keep running away from the flames that carried down the outside of Tower One--meaning she may have been even braver and tougher than I'd thought.

I said to the nurse, "God has something in mind for her." He said he believed that too. Afterward I sat by Lauren's bed, stroking her hair. And I thanked God for every single moment that we still had a glimmer of hope.

To be continued . . . Since this is so long, I'll continue the article in the next letter . . .

Love to all of you!

Miss Becky

A Time to Heal ... continued

Here is the continuation of the true story, "A Time to Heal", about Greg & Lauren, (pictured below) who both worked in the World Trade Center, but only Lauren was there the morning of September 11th. Fortunately, she was late for work that day, but was burned badly and is still in the hospital fighting for her life. Here the story continues:

COMING AROUND . . . mid-to-late October 2001. The doctors have been backing off on Lauren's sedation, slowly bringing her back toward awareness. On the 13th, I saw her try to form words. She wasn't able to make any sounds; her vocal cords could not vibrate because the tracheal rube diverted air away from her larynx. But she was doing more than breathing reflexively. Her mouth opened wide and her lower jaw moved slightly to the side, as if she were pausing before trying to speak.

Then, when I reached the hospital on the 14th, her eyes were open. Not just a bit, but most of the way. The swelling that was present in her face just days earlier was mostly gone, and she looked more like herself than at any point since September 11. I leaned over, looked her right in the eyes and said, "Honey, it's Greg, and I love you."

Her eyes moved ever so slightly, and then the barest, most subtle upturn came at the corners of her mouth; Lauren was trying to smile. I told her again that I loved her and that Tyler loved her. Then I said, "It's great to see you," and I burst into tears--the first happy tears for what seemed like a thousand years.

For more than a month, what mattered when I walked into her room were her blood pressure, heart rate and other vital signs as they appeared on the screens above and beside her bed. I would also get a report from the nurse. Then I would know how she was doing, and whether it was time to play a CD or pick up a book and start reading to her.

Now the screens and the numbers aren't the focus anymore. The focus is her face, her eyes and her perfect teeth, visible again now that the ventilator tube is out of her mouth (she had a tracheostomy recently so that a breathing tube could be inserted in her neck). Most of all, as of today, there's the way she can shape her features to try to communicate. She made it clear that she was smiling. Several times the smile worked its way into her cheekbones and her eyes gently narrowed.

There was a hint of the other difficult aspect of the journey. Twice, tears were visible in her eyes--once when her nurse spoke to her of how lucky she was, and the other time when I listed the people who were praying for her and rooting for her.

I had a lot to tell her: Tyler has taken his first stumble-steps. He was holding on to the babyproofed coffee table, saw his bouncy seat, let go of the table, took two steps, and made it to the bouncy seat. He has no fear of walking, that's certain; in a way, he was just like his mother. She took her first steps back from a dream, and he took his first free steps on his own.

On October 27, Tyler celebrated his first birthday. I threw a party for him and 11 or 12 of his closest friends at our home. Lauren was, but now, far more aware. On October 30, I asked her if she wanted to see the video of the baby's birthday, and she immediately nodded yes. So I held out the camcorder and played the video. And I watched her smiling as she looked at her son.

NEW STRIDES . . . Early November 2001. With Lauren's limited ability to communicate, her eyes have become very expressive. She grins and her eyes widen when she thinks something is fun. I've also become aware of how expressive hand gestures are--even with her hands in splints wrapped to her arms with gauze.

Itching has become a real problem. It's what happens when burns heal, and Lauren has it all over her body. Of course, we can't scratch; her skin is too delicate and in the process of some serious healing. The nurses order Benadryl and a special cream to help stop the itching. We can also tap our fingertips on the area, though after her most recent surgery some of these spots are under think dressings. All in all, Lauren is handling the situation okay.

Her determination is strong. With instruction and coaching from the physical and occupational therapists, she does arm range-of-motion exercises, lifting both arms in a coordinated fashion. She also does exaggerated facial expressions for reebad and scar control. When she first winked at me, I wondered why. Then she slinked the other eye, opened her mouth, puffed her cheeks and raised her eyebrows. She also works her legs, all while lying in a critical-care bed.

Then came something incredible. When I entered her room on November 11, Lauren said, "Hi, Greg." It was the softest whisper, and I wasn't even sure I'd heard it; took a second to register that the rush of air had been my name. I said, "Are you talking?" And her eyes smiled as she whispered, "Yes."

I looked at her and said, "That's wonderful. I am so ..." The lump in my throat stopped me for a moment. I took off my glasses, dried my eyes and told her the word I'd meant to say; "happy."

Lauren could talk because she had received a smaller tracheal tube, which could be capped. I was able to lean close to her and understand her perfectly. Even though she speaks with only a windy whisper, she sounds like herself--so she has made another enormous leap to reclaim who she is.

We talked about Tyler. She told me she loved the tape of his birthday party, one of the first things I'd shown her after she truly woke up. We spoke about many things, but especially about how wonderful it was just to be able to communicate, we got a big chunk of our relationship back right then.

Soon after that came another milestone: Lauren took her first steps. I arrived at the hospital about three seconds after it happened. In actual linear measurements, there were not strides but mere shuffles. She was helped into a sitting position, placed her feet on the floor, shuffled a couple of feet to the lounge chair and sat down.

When I entered her room, Lauren was seated there, surrounded by her court of occupational and physical therapists and attendant family members. The window curtain was up, and on this impossibly sunny autumn afternoon in New York the room glowed with the happiness of everyone within. Lauren's accomplishments were described to me . . . And when she saw me, she gave me her best smile.

A little later, when the therapists were gone and she was back in her bed, she started to ask me what happened on September 11. Her first question: "Was it an act of terror?" I told her yes. Anger and anguish flooded her face. She screamed softly, "I'm going to get those bastards," and beat her right forearm, in its cast, into the bed, as if pounding her attackers.

I said firmly, Lauren, listen to me: George W. Bush declared war on the terrorists and any country that harbors them. The United States has gone to war to get the people who did this to you.

She went on. She remembered that the World Trade Center looked as if it would fall. She asked me, "Was anyone hurt at Cantor?" (Cantor was the company she worked for, whose office was very near the place where the plane hit the building. Had she been in her office, she would have died as well.) Yes, I said.

"Did people die?" Yes.

"Anyone I know?"

Forgive me, but right then and there I lied to Lauren; I told her, I'm not sure. I didn't think she needed the entire load dropped on her right then: that her boss and 657 other Cantor employees had died without hope of rescue.

I said, Let's talk about that another time. And she agreed to wait.

(To be continued)

A Time to Heal ... the conclusion

This will complete the story "A Time to HEAL" about how Lauren Manning recovers from her injuries on September 11th . . . now to finish the story . . . a real true LOVE story.

HE GORGEOUS -- Mid-November 2001. By now Lauren has received skin grafts on her back from the base of her neck to her Achilles tendon. Her doctor has told me that her burn area has been reduced from 82.5 percent to 8 or 9 percent. Yes, just 8 or 9 percent. I feel like repeating that 100 times slowly. This is a credit to luck, fate, destiny, health, genetics, surgical skill and prayer. The single digits--they're where we want to be!

Lauren also had her trach tube removed. When I saw her on November 14, for the first time since September 11 she didn't have a blue hose running from her mouth or her neck to a ventilator or to a gas connection in the wall. Instead, foam dressings covered the healing wound. I said, No trach--you must be talking. She said yes.

Her voice sounded hoarse and congested, as if she had a bad cold. But it was her voice, not a whisper. Occasionally air would leak out below the dressings, and we would have to press down on them so that she could speak without any interruption (her voice would go on and off, like bad cell-phone connection).

I told her it was really great to hear her sounding like herself. And I said that I'd never suspended her cell phone, paying the bill just so I could still hear her regular voice on her message announcement. She told me, largely in her regular voice, that I was nuts.

For the first time, I fed Lauren her dinner. It resembled a meal you would see in a '60's film about deep space --three colors of gruel in different triangular sections of the plate. Yet it was a crowning achievement of hospital cuisine--pureed (make it liquid) everything so that Lauren eat it: chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable that apparently tasted good.

Then it came time for Tyler's first visit to the hospital. Lauren prepared for it like nothing else in her life. Her mother washed and blow-dried Lauren's hair and put lipstick on her lips. Her father went out and bought her favorite perfume so that Tyler would be more familiar with her scent after all this time. With Tyler now walking on his own, Lauren asked us to bring his lawn-mower push toy. And she wanted to wear a baseball cap so that she would look "more normal."

I entered her room before the visit to make sure she was ready. Lauren was seated in a lounge chair in her blue patient gown, sheets across her lap and a towel scented with perfume across her shoulders. Thought her forearms and hands were still in splints and casts, her smiling face peeked out at me beneath the brim of a baseball cap.

In the waiting room, Joyce, our nanny (lady hired to care for children) was with Tyler. I returned to find him at the center of a crowd or nurses and therapists, all waving and smiling at him. I had the video camera with me, so I filmed Lauren. Her mother wheeled her out of her room, turned the corner of the Burn Center, and came down the hall toward the waiting room.

Tyler was suddenly turned loose. And then he was pushing his lawn-mower toy toward his mother. Lauren could not touch Tyler because of the risk of infection, and he could not touch her. So instead of placing him on her lap, he was picked up and held near her. And Lauren, overwhelmed by happiness, said hello to him through her tears.

Tyler showed some fear at first. The staff psychologist had warned us that he would probably not recognize his mother and might be quite frightened. But he cried twice, got past it, and then he knew her. Whether it was the perfume or her voice of her face; whether it was he smile or whether he recognized her from all the photos we've shown him, he knew her. When we asked him, "Where's Mommy?" he looked at Lauren.

Tyler is a miracle. Yes, I'm his dad. But today, just shy of 13 months, he showed poise. He pushed his lawn mower back and forth across the floor, and Lauren got to see exactly what she had lived for. She kept looking at me and saying, "He's gorgeous."

There was a song she used to sing to him; I tried to sing it on her behalf but couldn't get through the first line. With Joyce pressing down on the dressings at the base of Lauren's neck so that air wouldn't hiss out of her chest, Lauren sang:

I love you in the morning and in the afternoon.

I love you in the evening and underneath the moon,

I love you, I love you, oh yes I really do,

I love you oh my darling through and through.

She made it all the way to the end. And Tyler started to dance. Kneeling, he shook his body to the music. I told him afterward, "Today you made your mother as happy as you may ever make anyone."

MOVING ON . . . Early December 2001. If you were outside in New York recently, maybe you were touched by the same breezes that touched Lauren as she sat in her wheelchair, out by the hospital's black steel benches, the grass and the tree-lined traffic circle. "I was outside--I breathed fresh air," she said. "There's a whole world out there I want to reconnect to."

Which she'll be doing shortly, when she leaves here and heads to the Burke Rehabilitation Hospital in White Plains, N.Y. Her total rehab will take one to two years; Her hands are the real challenge because that's where her burns were the worst. In a recent surgery, the tip of her left index finger was amputated (cut off) because it was so severely damaged.

After dinner the other night, Lauren and I talked. Mostly she gave me a to-do list--train schedules, packing details, the logistics of getting home. In the middle of it, though, I looked at her. Her skin is far more pink than it was, and the formation of tiny scars drags a bit at her lower lip. But the expression in her eyes and her smile are the same. I said, "You are just amazing."

"Thanks for staying by my side," she said with emotion.

"I'll always be by your side," I said. "I'll take care of you."

Then she said that we should grow old together and die together. "Let's not rush that day," I told her. "But, yes, we will."

For Lauren's last day at the Burn Center--December 11--she chose a white T-shirt, red drawstring pants and her tan hat to wear. She had a pressure bandage around her face, and underneath her T-shirt was a Jobst vest, a compression garment that promotes healing and minimizes scarring. For much of the next year, Lauren will need to wear a full body suit of these pressure garments.

When Dr. Yurt came in to say goodbye, Lauren said simply, "Thank you. Thank you for saving my life." And she began sobbing. Dr. Yurt put his hand on her shoulder, comforting her in one of the kindest gestures I've seen from a doctor.

We packed the last of Lauren's things, and then everything was loaded onto a wheelchair as if it were an airport luggage cart. Because Lauren wasn't being wheeled out. She was walking out. I said goodbye to Lauren's nurse. I signed he discharge papers, and then two EMT's (Emergency Medical Technician) came down the hall. They would be talking Lauren to Burke Rehabilitation Hospital, but she would walk out the front door of the Burn Center herself.

And no sooner had the moment come than she raised her arms and said, "That's it. Ninety days to the day, and we're getting out of here." She started walking down the hall, accompanied by one EMT as the other followed . I trailed, pushing the wheelchair, and suddenly tears filled my eyes. Lauren was walking out, leading her entourage (group of people) into the future. She's a recovering patient, a miracle--all embodied in this five-foot-four-inch lady with her pressure garments, yoga outfit and hat.

I turned to Lauren's nurse, gave him a powerful hug and said, "Thank you for everything." He wished us good luck, and I continued down the hall. The physical and occupational therapists were all gathered at the front desk, and Lauren stopped to hug them. Then she walked out the front door, and we followed her. I leaned over to give her a gentle high-five.

Lauren left the hospital the same way she had entered--through the ambulance bay, where on September 11 people had stood in stunned silence as she was unloaded and rolled through the door amide a quiet so complete you could hear the wheels creaking. This time, as she went out the door and into the back of the ambulance, Lauren was waving joyfully to everyone around her and calling out their names.

* * * * *

This is the end of the story . . . but life continues for Lauren, as she works to get back the full use of her hands and body. This is a beautiful example of the power of love, true love. My wish for you all, is to have a special marriage partner, who will love you as much as you love them, and that you will both stand by and support each other in any situation that comes up in your life.

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IS THE GREATEST JOY ON EARTH!

Love you,

Miss Becky

Chinese Language Being Taught More in the USA

This article came out last fall, but I think you'll find it interesting to see how many people, including elementary children are currently studying the Chinese Language here in America. Notice the name of the first school mentioned in the article is: "Louisa May Alcott Elementary School" ... Remember Louisa May Alcott is the well-known American writer and author of "Little Women" which several of you have read and saw the movie we showed you in China. "Little Women" is one of my all time favorite books and authors.

CLASSES IN CHINESE GROW AS THE LANGUAGE RIDES A WAVE OF POPULARITY

October 15, 2005 The NEW YORK TIMES . . . By GRETCHEN RUETHLING

CHICAGO, Oct. 14 - The future of foreign language study in the United States might be glimpsed here at Louisa May Alcott Elementary School, in a classroom where lanterns with cherry blossoms and pandas dangle overhead, and a paper dragon, an American flag and a Chinese flag hang from the wall.

One recent morning, a class of third graders bowed to one another and introduced themselves in Chinese, and a class of fourth graders practiced writing numbers in Chinese characters on marker boards. Chinese classes began at Alcott in February, but more students are already choosing it over Spanish.

"Chinese is our new baby," said David J. Domovic, the principal at Alcott, on the North Side, one of 20 public schools in the city offering instruction in Mandarin. "Everybody just wants in."

With encouragement from the Chinese and American governments, schools across the United States are expanding their language offerings to include Chinese, the world's most spoken tongue, not to mention one of its most difficult to learn.

Last month, the Defense Department gave a $700,000 grant to public schools in Portland, Ore., to double the number of students studying Chinese in an immersion program. In May, Senators Joseph I. Lieberman, Democrat of Connecticut, and Lamar Alexander, Republican of Tennessee, introduced a bill to spend $1.3 billon over five years on Chinese language programs in schools and on cultural exchanges to improve ties between the United States and China. The bill has been referred to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.

After 2,400 schools expressed interest, Advanced Placement Chinese classes will be offered in high schools around the country starting next year. Beijing is paying for half the $1.35 million to develop the classes, including Chinese teachers' scholarships and developing curriculums and examinations, said Trevor Packer, executive director of the Advanced Placement Program at the College Board.

"Many Americans are beginning to realize the importance of speaking Chinese," Zhu Hongqing, consul at the Chinese Education Consulate here, said. "We need to provide as much powerful support as we can."

The number of Chinese language programs around the country, from elementary school through adult programs, has tripled in 10 years, said Scott McGinnis, an academic adviser at the Defense Language Institute in Washington.

"Chinese is strategic in a way that a lot of other languages aren't," because of China's growth as an economic and military force, Mr. McGinnis said.

"Whatever tensions lie between us, there is a historical longstanding mutual fascination with each other," he said. "Planning to be ready to engage with them rather than only thinking of them in terms of a challenge or a competitor is the smart thing to do."

Up to 50,000 students are studying Chinese in elementary and secondary schools in the United States, experts estimate. Many are in cities like New York and San Francisco that have large numbers of Chinese-American students, and many take lessons after school or on weekends.

The Chicago program stands out because it is entirely in public schools during the regular school day and primarily serves students who are not of Chinese descent.

Mayor Richard M. Daley, a vocal supporter of the program, said proficiency in Chinese would be critical in understanding the competition.

"I think there will be two languages in this world," Mr. Daley said. "There will be Chinese and English."

From an all-black elementary school on the West Side to a nearly all-Hispanic elementary school on the South Side to more diverse schools throughout the city, some 3,000 students from kindergarten through high school are learning Chinese. The Chinese Education Ministry has called the program a model for teaching students who are not of Chinese descent. The ministry donated 3,000 textbooks to the school system last year.

The program has expanded from three schools in 1999 to 20 this year and is scheduled to add five by the end of the school year.

"They have a great international experience right in their own classroom," said Robert Davis, manager of the district's Chicago Chinese Connections Program, which seeks to develop skills to help students compete in the world marketplace. "We want them to meet on an equal playing field."

Some parents here worry at first about how relevant the Chinese classes are and whether they will be too difficult. The Foreign Service Institute, which trains American diplomats, ranks Chinese as one of the four most time-intensive languages to learn. An average English speaker takes 1,320 hours to become proficient in Chinese, compared with 480 hours in French, Spanish or Italian, the institute says.

Sevtap Guldur, 31, said she and her daughter Sahire, a fourth grader at Alcott, looked over the unfamiliar Chinese characters before deciding whether to take the class.

"If you're ready to learn that, go for it," Ms. Guldur said she told her daughter.

Sahire, who is fluent in Turkish, said it was her favorite class.

At Alcott, 160 students from kindergarten to fifth grade are studying Spanish, compared with 242 taking Chinese, although not without occasional frustration.

"Do we have to do it in Chinese?" a third grader asked during a recent exercise, perhaps missing the point of the class.

Raul Freire, 9, a fourth grader fluent in Spanish, said he taught words to his mother so she could better communicate with Chinese-speaking customers at the bank where she works.

"Mostly everybody in the school wants to take Chinese," Raul said. "I think about being a traveler when I grow up, so I have to learn as many languages as I can."

Adriana Freire, 33, Raul's mother, who is from Ecuador, said the skills would help her son be a better competitor in the job market. "I never thought that he was going to be able to do something like that," Ms. Freire said.

Most of the 10 elementary and 10 high schools in the program here offer the language four times a week for 40 minutes a day. Each school decides how to fit the class in the school day, with some taking time from classes like physical education, music and art to make room.

Chicago has a waiting list of schools that want to offer Chinese. The main obstacle is a lack of teachers certified by an American college, a requirement of the No Child Left Behind law, Mr. Davis said.

"It's hard when we can't hire a teacher that is qualified because of that missing certification," he said.

The shortage of teachers is common throughout the United States, said Michael Levine, executive director of education at the Asia Society in New York.

Six states have signed or plan to sign agreements with the Chinese government to import teachers from China and send teachers from the United States to China for training, Mr. Levine said.

"Eventually," he said, "we're going to have to homegrow our own."

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY . . .

Today, America celebrated it's 230th birthday!

(I wrote this late on the 4th so used the term "today", but it was not posted until July 5th!)

It was on July 4th 1776 that AMERICA was born with the signing of our Declaration of Independence from the rule of England. That was just the beginning of a most important effort, to bring forth a new, unique democratic form of government, "of the people, by the people, and for the people." It was not easy and required much work and effort to bring forth a country where freedom and liberty would be for all, that all men and women would have equal opportunity to live and worship as they please.

Americans come from all different countries. I have family members from England, Denmark, Wales and a great grandmother who was part Native American (Indian). Some of them have lived in America since it's beginning and I have a grandfather who came to America in 1914. We have many Americans from Chinese origin. Today, thousands of immigrants became American Citizens in special ceremonies across the country. This usually takes about five years, however, those who serve in our military can become citizens faster than that. The news noted tonight that applications for US citizenship have increased over 15% this last year.

Following this entry is an article I posted, entitled "FREEDOM IS A WONDERFUL THING" --- stories about real people who have recently immigrated to this country. I think you would find it interesting reading.

Ken (Smiley) and I have had a quiet celebration here in Logan. This morning we went to a traditional Boy Scout Breakfast (pancakes, eggs, ham and fried potatoes) along with our friends and neighbors. (For your information, Boy Scouts of America, is a youth development organization for boys and they learn lots of different skills. Each year on the 4th of July, our Scouts, hold this breakfast to raise money for their program, it helps pay for them to take camping trips, etc. My sons were involved in this when they were scouts and so we always support this effort.)

It was especially nice at the breakfast this morning to sit across the table from a couple that we had not seen for a couple of years. In fact we met them when we were taking a Chinese class at Utah State University the fall of 2001 after we had taught for a year in China. They met each other in the class and fell in love, married, finished college, worked in Washington, D.C. for a year, have a two year old little girl and are expecting another baby next month. It was sooooo fun to visit with them and find that they now live close to us.

We spent the rest of the day working around our place, eating some Chinese food, and watching some great American traditional programs on TV. Jason and his family, who currently are living in our home with us, are in Yellowstone for a five day vacation and all of our other children are living away. So it was just Ken and I here today and it was nice! Our daughter Kara living in Boston, which was a major place for much of the beginning of our country shared in some interesting celebrations. We watched some of it on TV. I'm posting an article for you to read about the different celebrations across America today .... it says that there were about 500,000 people watching the fireworks in Boston .... they were great on TV as well. It tells of other things happening in Boston that our daughter participated in ... read if you are interested.

Another TV program tonight was a special program from the Ford Theater in Washington, D.C. This was the theater where President Abraham Lincoln was shot and later died. It's still a theater today and has the original seats. There is a flag draped from the box where President Lincoln sat that night and no one ever sits there now, in honor of him. There is an interesting museum about his life in the basement of the theater. I've been there to the museum as well to see different theater productions or shows. It's a small and wonderful theater. Tonight the program ended with a reading of President's Lincoln's famous Gettysburg Address (which is the MOST famous of all our presidents speeches) and with all the performers joining together to sing a very popular song, "God Bless America."

You may be interested in knowing that after Lincoln had given his short, simple speech at Gettysburg, he thought it was a failure, because people just got up and left. It had not been a long speech like the person before him. But a newspaper reporter asked for a copy of it. When it was printed, others read it and recognized the powerful, simple declaration of just was this country was all about. I had to memorize it when I was in school. Here it is,

Delivered at Gettysburg on November 19, 1863 by President Abraham Lincoln:

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that "all men are created equal"

"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow, this ground -- The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here; while it can never forget what they did here.

"It is rather for us, the living, we here be dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that, from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here, gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people by the people for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

I believe that challenge, from President Lincoln, should still be apart of the heart of each true American. We need to "dedicate our lives to the preserving and sharing of freedom" to all people of the world. God did not create America just for Americans, but to bless the lives of His children all over the globe. I hope that my efforts to be a good, honest citizen of my country and to help others were I can, will strengthen that effort. I'll share more later about a responsibility American citizens have, to serve on juries in our court system. I had that opportunity last January and it was a great experience.

I LOVE AMERICA ... Just as you love your country, I love mine. To share my LIFE and LOVE with you, I need to share my country with you as well ... I'll post more articles about America and Americans in the future. HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA . . . I LOVE YOU!!!!

Miss Becky

P.S. Other events today, included North Korea shooting a missle toward America and America launched a Space Shuttle to go to the space station --- more about both these things in following articles.

Pride, Patriotism on Display on Fourth of July

Pride, patriotism on display on Fourth of July . . . Veterans, civilians turn out for parades and fireworks across the U.S.

Families sat down to picnics, attended parades, and crowded parks and rooftops to watch fireworks as the nation celebrated its 230th birthday Tuesday.

** More than 120,000 bursts of color, light and pyrotechnics filled the darkness as The New York Pops regaled crowds with a soundtrack of patriotic standards and original music charting America’s evolution.

** At Fort Bragg, N.C., home of the 82nd Airborne Division, President Bush offered thanks and encouragement to the troops. “You are serving our country at a time when our country needs you. And because of your courage, every day is Independence Day in America,” Bush told an estimated 3,500 service members at an outdoor speech.

** As many as 500,000 people gathered in Boston for a concert and fireworks extravaganza near the Charles River, state police estimated. (OUR DAUGHTER, KARA WAS THERE IN BOSTON TODAY!!!) Earlier Tuesday, the city began its celebration with a reading of the Declaration of Independence from a balcony at the Old State House, where townspeople first heard it more than two centuries ago. (KARA AND I VISITED THIS BUILDING WHEN I HELPED HER MOVE TO BOSTON LAST AUGUST.)

Weather dampens some parties

In many regions, the searing heat and near-drought conditions tamped down the celebration Tuesday.

** About 100 people were treated for heat exhaustion in Washington, D.C., after an Independence Day parade in humid, 90-degree weather near the Mall. Most of the patients were marchers, said Alan Etter, a spokesman for the District of Columbia fire and EMS Department. One was hospitalized.

** Because of the hot, dry weather in Mandan, N.D., fire trucks were held out of the July Fourth parade. "We don’t want to get hung up in a parade and can’t get out attend to a fire if one should start.. It’s just too risky,” said Mandan Rural Fire Chief Lynn Gustin.

** In Frostburg, Md., Floyd Wigfield, an 87-year-old veteran of the 1944 D-Day invasion, was among the estimated 1,200 veterans who lined up for a half-mile during a Fourth of July parade. “They’re celebrating all the veterans for years and years,” said Wigfield, who wore his green wool Army uniform despite the soaring heat.

** There also was quiet reflection during the long holiday weekend. In Yakima, Wash., a crowd of more than 200 people prayed quietly at the dedication late Monday of a war memorial honoring six soldiers and Marines with ties to the area who have died in Iraq.

Space Shuttle "Discovery" Launched on Fourth of July

CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. - Discovery lifted off Tuesday on NASA's first Independence Day space shuttle launch — producing a swell of patriotism as well as some positive news about shuttle safety. (KEN AND I VISITED CAPE CANAVERNAL WHEN WE WERE IN FLORDIA SOME YEARS AGO AND SAW THE PLACE WHERE SPACE SHUTTLES ARE LAUNCHED. WE'VE ONLY SEEN THE LAUNCH OF A SPACE SHUTTLE ON TV, BUT EVEN THEN IT'S EXCITING!!!)

Discovery commander Steve Lindsey set the patriotic tone during the final minutes of the countdown, saying "I can't think of a better place to be on the Fourth of July."

After an on-time launch at 2:37:55 p.m. ET, the shuttle ascended on a pillar of fire and exhaust, arcing around a single cloud that passed over Kennedy Space Center.

Tuesday's sunny holiday weather came as a relief to launch managers, who had to postpone the launch on Saturday and Sunday due to threatening clouds.

"No, we did not plan to launch on the Fourth of July, but it sure did work out to be great to launch on Independence Day," shuttle program manager Wayne Hale told reporters. "Great nations dare great things, and take risks along the way, and I can think of no better way to explore the space frontier than the way we set out today."

Discovery's seven astronauts waved flags as they headed out to the launch pad. The six Americans carried the Stars and Stripes, while German astronaut Thomas Reiter held his country's tricolor flag.

Discovery's 12-day mission is aimed at testing safety modifications made since the shuttle's last flight, almost a year ago. The shuttle also will resupply the international space station, install new equipment on the station and leave Reiter behind as the station's third crew member.

Concern over flyaway foam

The day's celebratory air was capped by Hale's first assessment of the external fuel tank's performance — a review that was anxiously awaited, considering that foam loss from the tank during last year's launch led to a halt in shuttle flights until Tuesday.

More than 100 cameras followed Tuesday's launch from the ground, from the air and from the shuttle and tank itself — and NASA managers as well as journalists quickly started poring over the imagery.

"I think the thing performed very, very well indeed ... very pleased," Hale said at an evening review of the initial imagery. "As opposed to where we were last year, we saw nothing that gives us any kind of concern about the health of the crew or the vehicle."

He acknowledged that the performance wasn't flawless: Bits of foam insulation were seen flying off the tank five times, including one occasion when a piece that may be larger than NASA's standard may have touched the orbiter, he said. But every occasion occurred after the 135-second mark, too late to do significant damage to the orbiter. "The really good news is that it happened late," Hale said.

The performance of the foam has been a key concern for NASA since the 2003 Columbia tragedy, when the loss of the shuttle and its crew was blamed on damage done by tank-foam debris. The tank was redesigned for Discovery's flight last year, then redesigned a second time when cameras spotted potentially hazardous foam loss.

This is the first flight to test the twice-redesigned tank. NASA's chief engineer and top safety official argued that this month's flight should be postponed until still other areas of the tank, known as ice/frost ramps, were redesigned as well. But the agency's administrator, Mike Griffin, sided with other experts who advised moving ahead with the current test flight.

Hale said he thought that the long debate over the tank led to a "great decision process," and that the imagery gathered during this flight would lead to an even better design.

The imagery also cleared up a mysterious sighting: Astronaut Mike Fossum reported seeing what he thought was a 4- or 5-foot-long strip of blanket insulation floating off into space. But once Hale and other mission managers saw video of the "strip," they instantly recognized that it was an ice formation that had come off the nozzle of one of the shuttle's main engines.

"It's incredible to me, but I've seen it so I know it's true, that the space shuttle main engines that burn hydrogen and oxygen at 6,000 degrees on the inside can form frost on the outside, because we circulate liquid hydrogen to cool the outside of the nozzle," Hale said.

Ambitious agenda (agenda here means the plan for the mission)

Discovery's mission agenda is ambitious — so ambitious that NASA aims to add a 13th day to the flight. Among the highlights:

· Reiter will be dropped off to join the space station's current Expedition 13 crew members, NASA's Jeff Williams and Russia's Pavel Vinogradov. The move will make Reiter the first long-term crew member who is neither American nor Russian. "It adds, maybe, a little bit of internationality to the station," Reiter told NBC. His arrival will also mark the first time since 2003 that the station has had a crew of three. That additional crew time should also allow more science to be done on the station, he said.

· More than 2 1/2 tons of supplies will be delivered to the station, including an oxygen generator that will eventually allow the station's occupancy to rise to six crew members. Almost as much old equipment and trash will be unloaded from the station for return to Earth.

· Spacewalkers will repair a power-supply reel system for the station's robotic rail car, which was rendered essentially unusable last December when a cable was cut by accident. They'll also install a spare component for the station's cooling system.

· One spacewalk will be devoted to testing a technique for inspecting the shuttle's underside for damage even if the shuttle isn't docked to the station. Astronauts Piers Sellers and Mike Fossum will take turns standing at the end of a 50-foot-long (15-meter-long) orbital boom attached to the shuttle's 50-foot-long robotic arm, and practicing the moves that would have to be made for inspection and even repair.

· If the mission is extended by an extra day, as expected, yet another spacewalk would be devoted to testing tools that could be used for repairing the reinforced panels on the shuttle's most critical areas — the nose cone and the leading edges of the wings.

· The sensor-tipped orbital inspection boom will be used to check the tiles in orbit, as it was during last year's flight. The space station's crew will also conduct a high-resolution photo survey of the shuttle's tiles before Monday's scheduled docking, just like last time. But this time, a similar survey will be done just before and after undocking, to learn more about potential damage to the shuttle from micrometeoroids or orbital debris during flight.

By Alan Boyle, Science editor

North Korean Missile Fails on Fourth of July

N. Korea long-range missile fails in test launch

WASHINGTON - A defiant North Korea test-fired a long-range missile Wednesday that may be capable of reaching America, but it failed seconds after launch, U.S. officials said. The North Koreans also tested four shorter range missiles in an exercise the White House called “a provocation” but not an immediate threat.

Ignoring stern U.S. and Japanese warnings, the isolated communist nation carried out the audacious military tests even as the U.S. celebrated the Fourth of July and launched the space shuttle.

South Korea’s Yonhap news agency reported as many as 10 missiles altogether may have been launched, but officials could not confirm that.

None of the missiles made it as far as Japan. The Japanese government said all landed in the Sea of Japan between Japan and the Korean Peninsula.

Japan protested the tests and called for a U.N. Security Council meeting. “We will take stern measures,” said chief government spokesman Shinzo Abe, adding that sanctions were a possibility. He said the launch violated a longstanding moratorium, and that Tokyo was not given prior notification by Pyongyang.

The test firings, which are seen as a provocation by the United States and other nations trying to get North Korea to submit to a verifiable nuclear program, occurred as Americans were celebrating Independence Day.

The reclusive communist nation's action came after weeks of speculation that it was preparing to test its Taepodong 2 missile. The preparations prompted warnings from the United States and Japan, which had threatened possible economic sanctions in response.

“North Korea has gone ahead with the launch despite international protest,” Japanese Chief Cabinet Secretary Shinzo Abe said. “That is regrettable from the standpoint of Japan’s security, the stability of international society, and non-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction.”

The missiles all landed hundreds of miles away from Japan and there were no reports the missiles caused damage within Japanese territory, Abe said.

North Korea's arsenal . . . A look at some of North Korea’s missiles:—

TAEPODONG-2: Said to be North Korea’s most advanced missile, with a range of up to 9,320 miles. Experts estimate it could potentially hit the mainland United States with a small payload. However, the missile is unlikely to be accurate.—

TAEPODONG-1: North Korea is believed to have test-launched this long-range missile in August 1998. The second stage landed off Japan’s eastern coast. The missile has an estimated range of up to 1,800 miles.—

RODONG: As many as 200 Rodong missiles are in North Korea’s arsenal. With a range of about 620 miles, Japan is their most likely target. The missiles can be fired from mobile launchers.—

SCUD: North Korea reportedly has more than 600 Scud-type missiles that are relatively short-range and would potentially target South Korea.

It was not clear which launch was the long-range missile. The Japanese government was unable to confirm the report by U.S. officials that a Taepodong-2 was fired.

Han Song Ryol, deputy chief of North Korea’s mission to the U.N. in New York, told The Associated Press (American Newspaper) in a telephone interview: “We diplomats do not know what the military is doing.” North Korea’s missile program is based on Scud technology provided by the former Soviet Union or Egypt, according to American and South Korean officials. North Korea started its Rodong-1 missile project in the late 1980s and test-fired the missile for the first time in 1993.

FREEDOM IS A WONDERFUL THING

As told to David Oliver Relin

Published: July 2, 2006

As the debate over immigration policy continues, it’s easy to forget one simple fact: The United States is a nation of immigrants. On this Fourth of July weekend, we introduce you to four remarkable Americans. These men and women came here in pursuit of dreams known to many of our own families: freedom from political oppression, liberty to worship without government interference, and the economic opportunity for which the U.S. has long been known. Their stories remind us that the words engraved at the base of the Statue of Liberty bear witness to a noble truth:

For the tired, the poor, the world’s huddled masses yearning to breathe free, America remains a powerful beacon of hope.

I CAME FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM

Ngawang Sangdrol, 27

Born: Lhasa, Tibet

Today: Student

Before I was born, the Chinese destroyed much of Tibetan culture. My parents sent me to a nunnery so I could study our Buddhist traditions, and when I was 13, I joined some people demonstrating for freedom of religion. All we did was chant “Long live the Dalai Lama” and “Free Tibet.”

The police tied a rope around my neck, lashed me to a tree and beat me. Then they put me in jail for nine months. I didn’t understand what I had done. Every Tibetan loves the Dalai Lama and wants the freedom to praise him. After my release, I joined another demonstration. This time I was sentenced to three years in Drapchi Prison.

We were beaten and forbidden from practicing Buddhism. One time, the guards kicked me in the head and beat me until I fell unconscious. Later, I heard that another nun had thrown herself on me, to save me. I had a good relationship with the other nuns there and, in one incident, five of them were killed by our torturers.

At one point, 14 of us secretly recorded songs praising the Dalai Lama and telling people of our suffering, then smuggled a tape out. We hoped our families would hear our voices and learn that we were alive. But the tape traveled the world, and people pressured China for our release. When the Chinese heard about it, they added six years to my sentence.

After 11 years in prison, I was sent home, and in 2003, I was offered asylum in the U.S. At first I was afraid to travel to such a foreign place, but freedom is wonderful—I can’t describe how wonderful. I live in New Jersey with two other nuns from the prison. We begin each day with prayer and have photos of His Holiness the Dalai Lama on our walls, which is forbidden in Tibet. I am studying English. It is my duty to speak well enough to explain how my country is suffering, to tell the world that Tibetans deserve freedom too.

I FLED GENOCIDE AND OPPRESSION

Jean-Marie Kamatali, 39

Born: Kamembe, Rwanda

Today: University professor

My whole life, I have tried to avoid politics. But in Rwanda, politics are impossible to escape. I was born in a village called Kamembe but moved to the capital because of my parents’ mixed marriage: My father is a Hutu, and my mother is a Tutsi. We thought we would be safer in Kigali.

I was a bright student, but mostly I was lucky. I am the first person in my family to receive a college education. After graduating with a law degree, I refused to work for the Hutu government. I never joined any political party, because I sensed the danger. But in April 1994, there was no escaping danger. It came right to our door.

That month, the Hutus declared a campaign of genocide against all Tutsis and moderate Hutus. The militia came and said, “We will kill you mixed people later this month. For now, bury your dead.” Each night they dumped bodies near our home, and my father and I had to bury them in mass graves. It was very traumatizing. While we buried the bodies, my father and I never said a word. What was there to say?

My parents slipped out and hid in a shipping container. I fled toward Congo—traveling by night, sleeping in ditches by day, until I was able to swim across the border. It was a long time before I learned that my parents had survived. But my mother’s entire family—my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins—was wiped out.

I traveled to Austria, where I met my wife and earned a doctorate in law. In 2002, an organization called the Scholar Rescue Fund helped bring me to America, and now we live in South Bend, Ind., with our three children. It is strange and wonderful to raise my children in such a safe place. Strange, because I still have dreams where people who died in Rwanda speak to me. I remember running for my life and sleeping in ditches, and I can’t believe my journey led here.

Now I teach courses on human rights. I tell my students that terrible things like genocide take place if people aren’t aware of what’s happening in the rest of the world. In America you can feel the freedom. You can breathe. When I returned from a conference in Europe recently, an immigration officer at the airport told me: “Welcome home.” I don’t know why it touched me so much. Maybe at that moment, after so much time running, I felt I had finally found a place to come home to.

MY PARENTS SOUGHT OPPORTUNITY

Srinija “Ninj” Srinivasan, 34

Born: Chandigarh, India

Today: Editor-in-chief of Yahoo!

Growing up in Kansas, (Kansas is one of the states in the middle of America)I got pretty used to people stumbling over my name. Then a volleyball coach nicknamed me “Ninj,” and it stuck. In some ways, my family was traditionally Indian. My parents had an arranged marriage. But my mother came from a very progressive family and was highly educated. My mom has always been a role model for me. She has an insatiable curiosity that I hope I inherited.

I was born in Chandigarh, India, but when I was 3 months old, we moved to Lawrence, where my father became a math professor at the University of Kansas. He wanted us to have every opportunity. Being Indian-American in Kansas made my family very close. We felt like “we’re all in this together.” I think that’s the reason I chose to work in an industry where everything is connected.

I followed my siblings to Stanford University. In college, I tried to figure out where I fit in American culture. I studied Japanese and spent six months in Japan. It was there I met Jerry Yang and David Filo.

In 1995, Jerry and David asked me to join them in a venture called Yahoo! We felt we were yahoos, because we didn’t really know what we were doing. But they had a vision of where the online world was going and asked me to organize the sorting system for a table of contents to the Internet. It’s not like we said, “We’re going to create a hierarchy for the sum total of human knowledge.” We just wanted to help bring the Internet to life. I think we’ve done that.

The Web has incredible power to bring the world together. I’ve tried to help provide people with the context to understand that information. And I think it’s fitting that a woman born in India, raised in Kansas and living in California is part of that process. I think Silicon Valley culture could only happen here. In a place where all of these people come together from everywhere on Earth, anything is possible.

WE ESCAPED EXTREME POVERTY

Dr. Erick Miranda, 30

Born: Morelos, Mexico

Today: Graduate of Harvard Medical School

I was born into extreme poverty. My parents lived in a shack in Morelos, Mexico. Whatever fish my dad caught was the food for the day. My grandparents were migrant workers. When I was 3 weeks old, my grandmother came to have a look at me. I was this little, malnourished thing, and she said, “He’s going to die if you stay here.” She took me across the border the next day, and my parents followed as soon as they could.

Technically, I was an illegal alien, but I felt like an American even before I became a citizen in 1995. Immigrant life for my parents was hard. My parents divorced when I was 4. My mom has been waiting tables at the same Mexican restaurant for 25 years. She didn’t even finish eighth grade. But she’s a wise woman who has devoted herself to giving her kids a chance at a better life. When I got to kindergarten, I couldn’t even speak English. But I learned quickly and, by second grade, something clicked and I took off.

I made it to college at U.C.-Irvine and got into every medical school I applied to. But when I got the letter from Harvard, I broke down and cried. My dream had come true! I have a profound sense of debt to this country.

In medical school, I ran a mentoring program for African-American and Latino kids in Boston. Now I’m back in L.A., doing my residency at the L.A. County/USC emergency medical center, which caters predominantly to poor blacks and Latinos. I can see the relief on people’s faces when they explain their problems to a Spanish-speaking doctor. Everyone who comes to America knows about the opportunity here. No matter where you come from or how poor you are, there is a path open to you here if you can navigate poverty’s obstacle course. I’m proof that the American Dream is alive and well.