Miss Becky's Blog

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."

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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 Special Anniversary Celebration

The following letter was written by Smiley and Becky on September 11, 2001

Dear Students and Friends,

Today, September 11 is a special day for Smiley and Becky... it is our 37th (sun-shrr-chee!!) wedding anniversary!!!!!!!!!! We were married on September 11, 1964 -- 37 years ago.

This picture was taken that day at the wedding celebration. The wedding ceremony had taken place in the Salt Lake Temple earlier that day.


Here is a picture of Becky on her wedding -- she had made or sewed her wedding dress and she looked beautiful.

In our culture weddings are very important -- it's the start of a new family and we celebrate that day each year -- it's called a wedding anniversary. It's a good way to express and celebrate our love and remember that special wedding day. We don't know if you do that in China, but we want to tell you how we celebrated this wonderful event in our lives.

(By now you know about the terrible terrorist attack on the World Trade Buildings in New York City which occurred this morning at 6:40 am our time, 8:40 pm your time... it made us very sad for all the people who died and their families... so, our anniversary celebration wasn't as happy as we'd like. Many of you know that our son, Brady, is a missionary in New York City... he is ok... his apartment is about 8 kms north of the attack. He called this morning to tell us he was ok... he said he and his companions went to the roof of their building and they could see the smoke from the attack.)

Our anniversary... Over the years we've done some unusual things to celebrate the anniversary... gone to musicals, gone to a mountain town for the weekend, gone to Hawaii on our 20th anniversary... and sometimes just do more simple things... This one was a very simple celebration but a very unique and wonderful experience. Yes, this was Becky's idea and it was really special!! She prepared different types of food that we have enjoyed over the years... the best being a Mexican dip which we used to eat a lot... now we don't because it's fattening... then she cooked a Chinese dish (we don't know the Chinese name!!!) which has chopped up chicken meat, peppers and nuts to be eaten with rice. It was really gooooooooood!! THEN, she had prepared MY FAVORITE dessert... it's called Cherry Delight but is a lot like a cheese cake... I can eat the whole thing without stopping... but I didn't... but, I know I'll add some kgs to my weight from all this... we just "pigged out" and enjoyed it!! Now we must trim back to control our weight!!

Becky started the evening by putting on her original wedding dress... again she was beautiful in it... it was very special to her to be able to wear it after all these years... because she had controlled her weight she was able to wear it, and it fit just like 37 years ago!!



(Ken took this picture of my that night wearing my wedding dress and holding the roses he had given me. This is in the front room of our home where that special celebration took place.)

When Becky served another food dish she would change into another dress from some special occasion in our life... it was great!! When she served the Chinese dish she put on one of her Chinese dresses!! We ate by candle light... I got her two big red roses... Some men think you have to buy a dozen (12) roses... I think the number isn't important... it's the meaning... to me, two roses means two lovers together (am I right?)!! (And, roses are very expensive in America... if we were in Jinan I would have bought 37 red roses!!)

Last year we were in Jinan on our 36th anniversary... We remember we went out to find a Pizza restaurant... finally ended up on the top floor of the Simpson Hotel where the chef (a guy from Long Island, NY) made us a pizza... we became friends with him and associated with him for several months. Becky can remember so many things (why is it women can remember so many details and men don't?!!) about our years together... I can only remember the scores of ballgames!!! I really enjoy hearing about the things we did and the places we went... one was a football trip to New York City where our Utah State University played the U.S. Military Academy (Army)... we stayed in NYC and went to a Broadway play and went out to eat at a famous restaurant called "Mama Leonne's." We both agree that it is still the best restaurant dinner we've ever had... we "pigged out" there also!!

For background music she had a CD with the songs, "You Light Up My Life," and "The Rose." It was really beautiful. Some of you have the words to the song, "The Rose." We sang it with you in some classes. It is so beautiful. The words to both songs are as follows:

YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE

So many nights I'd sit by my window
Waiting for someone to sing me his song
So many dreams, I kept deep inside me
Alone in the dark, but now you've come along.

And you light up my life
You give me hope, to carry on
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song

Rollin' at sea, adrift on the waters
Could it be finally, I'm turning for home.
Finally a chance to say, "Hey, I love you"
Never again to be all alone.

And you light up my life
You give me hope, to carry on
It's can't be wrong, when it feels so right
'Cause you, you light up my life.

THE ROSE

Some say love it is a river, that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say love it is a flower, and you it's only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance,
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance,
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.


Now from Becky . . .

It was a very special, romantic evening and I'm so glad we did it last night. I surprised Ken and prepared things while he was at a meeting on Monday and told him when he returned that since it was September 11th in China by that time, we could start our celebration!

Along with the roses, Ken gave me a beautiful card that has some very special words that I want to share with you. It reads:

FOR MY WIFE,
Thanks for the Wonderful Memories . . .

"A marriage isn't magic that 'just happens'
It's something built with time and love and care.
It's made of laughter, tears, and understanding.
Of loyalty and simply 'being there.'
A marriage is a bond between two people
That's stronger than the sum of all its parts,
A beautiful, rich tapestry of living
That's woven of the love between two hearts."

Thanks for the wonderful memories that add so much joy to this day...
Memories of all the kindness you've shown in your warm, loving way.
Memories of help that you've offered and dreams you've been happy to share,
Memories of how you've stood by me and shown me how deeply you care,
Thanks for the beautiful moments that passing time only endears...
Thanks for the wonderful memories, thanks for the wonderful years.
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

I loved it -- the words were very meaningful to me and the card had roses on it -- roses are the flower of LOVE and I've always LOVED roses!!! There is nothing that brings more JOY and HAPPINESS than TO LOVE AND BE LOVED. It is our hope and desire that each of you will find a special person that you can love and build a successful, happy marriage with -- a relationship that can be deep, meaningful and fulfilling for both partners. For those of you who are already married, keep the magic of love alive by understanding "the Seasons of LOVE" and how to nurture love's special needs. I'm soooooooooo thankful for our marriage and the special things that we have shared over these 37 years. It has not always been easy, relationships have to be cared for just as a garden: watered regularly, new seeds planted and weeds remove and even after all these years, we have to continue working in the garden! But it's all worth it -- because Ken really does "Light Up My Life."

Love and Hugs to all,

Smiley & Becky

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