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It was a cool and crisp September morning; it was the 11th day of the month; I got up early to water my garden. This was part of my morning ritual. Each day before work, as a way of finding peace, I would water and nurture the flower and vegetable garden in my front yard. I started my garden as a way of paying tribute to my Grandfather, who I dearly loved; I lost him last year around the same time. 20 minutes of CPR at his bedside at 6:15 in the morning didn't bring him back. His heart gave out. I contemplated my failure. I had saved lives before; it was part of my job for years, though I couldn't 't bring back my own Grandfather. I started a garden in my yard for the first time this spring. I did this to carry on the hobby and passion of my Grandfather. This was my way of healing; while at the same time pay him tribute. I planted the first of many flowers and vegetables in my garden, my first plant; a vibrant Tea Rose, I planted at 6:15 one spring morning. I began to actually enjoy myself. I found peace in myself and made a beautiful garden for Gramps. My first Sweet 100 cherry tomato that ripened; my Gramps favorite, I did not eat. I closed my eyes and threw it towards Heaven for my Gramps. This started another morning ritual for me. You see when I closed my eyes and threw my first cherry tomato towards Heaven for Gramps; it came back down and hit me in the head. He He. I think my Gramps wanted me to have it. Anyway, Each morning after while watering my garden I would pick another cherry tomato, throw it up in the air, instead of letting it hit me in the head, I would look up, set my sights and then catch it in my mouth. I rarely missed. Then I would start my day. How I loved my morning ritual. The reason I started my story this way is because, on the morning of Sept 11th as I mentioned I got up to start my day. I completed my morning ritual, walked back into my house to find and see, the World Trade Center, on TV, on fire. I watched the scene's over and over of two misrepresented, pregnant steal American Eagles, misguided by evil, crash deliberately into New York's Pride, the Twin Towers. I watched as these once proud, strong and tall glass New York brothers; hearts shattered. They came crashing down, leaving a sky filled with darkness and our hearts and mind filled with fear and disbelief.

Well I went to New York, soon after the attack took place. I spent a little over four days there, on the pile at, Ground Zero doing search and rescue. I made it back home finally sometime Saturday the 15th. I parked in front of my house, walked into my yard, towards my garden hose, I needed to wash off the dust and death that clung to my body and clothing, building up over the four dirty days, I spent at the WTC. I needed to wash myself off quickly, as this motley of mixed mud pain, had covered my body, stuck on my mind and was about to penetrate my soul. As I walked over toward the hose in my yard. I glanced over at the Tea Rose [had planted for my beloved Grandfather. No one had watered it. The flowers as well as most of my vegetables I planted for my Gramps and for my peace and healing had been neglected, left with no care, and no water for a little over 4 days. They were wilted and dead. I left from death in New York to come home and find myself again, only find more death. The death of my garden, which brought back the pain of the death of my Grandfather. All this combined with the pain still fresh in my mind from my time at the WTC left me truly lost and crushed. Since I didn't have a garden to water away my life 's hurt, I chose writing as an outlet.

This is my story.

Seeing the planes crash into the World Trade Center in New York brought back some memories for me from life's past.

I remembered back to 1982, when I as a kid, I watched Air Florida Flight 90 plunge into the Potomac River. People jumped in ice-cold water to rescue people. I wanted to go and help, but I was a kid and couldn't 't do it. I felt helpless.

I remembered, Christmas Eve, December 24th in 1993, as Flight 103, exploded over Locker bee, Scotland, killing, Julie Anne Kelley, my sisters best friend. As a kid I had a crush on her. At that age I sort of had a crush on all my sisters friends. Though Julie Anne was extra special. I remember she used to come over my house to visit my Sister frequently. She would make me smile. Julie was gone. She, and many other wonderful people died together, 8 years ago, on their way home, the day before Christmas. They never made it. They were innocent victims of an Islamic terrorist attack. Again, I felt helpless.

Back to Sept 11th

Once, I found out the tragic details of the attack on the World Trade Center, finding that it was one of many terrorist attacks planned for Sept 11th 2001 , I was shocked and angered and felt I needed to do something.

This time I didn't feel helpless.

I spent 5 years as an EMT, as well as 2 years as an advanced Trauma Tech with HAZMAT and search and rescue training.

I packed some supplies quickly and jumped into my car.

I drove from my town of Hyde Park Ma to New York, heading towards Ground Zero in Manhattan. I drove quickly. I realized and understood the ramifications of the situation. I knew many people would be in dire need of assistance and precious lives could be hanging in the balance, waiting for any kind of help to arrive. I got there around 8 in the evening the night of Sept 11th, staying until Sat the 15th around one in the morning. Working and doing search and rescue at Ground Zero nonstop four days - except for a nap on the sidewalk - took me through a roller coaster of his emotions - despair one minute, euphoria the next.

I had a lot of fear when I got to New York. It was very dark. You couldn't 't see anything in front of your face. You'd go up on the pile and there were burning embers of orange and red fires. The only light we had was from the surrounding flames. I was working Search and Rescue, as these buildings looked like they were going to fall down on top of all of us rescue workers, police, firefighters and volunteers.

We found a cadaver, the body of an innocent man, a precious human being, who died, being trapped in the rubble of the World Trade Center when the Twin Towers came crashing to the ground on September 11th 2001.

Myself the medical examiner and others spent an hour-and-a-half trying to identify this unfortunate unknown citizen of New York. We first removed his upper torso, hips, and one leg. It was very, distressing. It hurt. We tried to find additional body parts for identification. The medical examiner, in order to do identify this tragic victim of terrorism, said we needed to keep looking for perhaps a skull or tooth fragments, we couldn't find anything else.

We had this need, to find out who this man was, perhaps to give his family closure and allow them a chance to say goodbye at a real funeral in the peace of a church. It was my honor and duty to take this person out of this chaotic mess. They didn't ask to be put there. But they're going to be buried in a real grave.

An hour and half later, I and some other volunteers pulled a port authority police officer out of the rubble. He was buried up to his neck. It took us all, one and a half hours, to extricate him. We freed him up and tried to lift him out of his two-day nightmare. We cleared the debris around him only to find he was still stuck. One ankle still wedged in the rubble. We needed to find a spade. We need a spade to free up his ankle, as he was still trapped in a narrow crevice, in which an ordinary shovel would not maneuver. I remember there were about 20 standard large shovels around us, but no spade. We yelled down the rescue line for a spade. We need a spade, we yelled over and over. For twenty minutes we could not find one. We wanted and needed to get him out soon. I saw one of many steal saws that were lying around and yelled for someone to take one of the larger shovels and use the steal saw to cut it down. First they cut off the handle, then they cut off both sides of the steal edged blade. We made a spade. We lowered it into the hole and freed his ankle. We pulled him from the darkness at around 6:00 a.m. He was alive and looked right in my eyes. His name was McLoughlin. Temporary, joy overcame me. Everybody cheered. This is why I'm here. I'm here to hopefully save people. I am proud, the Officer will live on to see new flowers grow and bloom in the spring.

I found four additional, beautiful Americans that lost their lives. I found them buried in and under the rubble. What senseless violence. What a waste of precious life. Hopefully, they will be identified and buried by their family with love and closure. For that, I am proud as well. I found a fire fighters hat, but no firefighter, buried beneath the rubble. It was burnt and singed around the edges. I held on to the hat for about an hour and cried. I couldn't leave it behind to be stepped on, so I searched for the fire chief and gave it to him. I hated seeing the hurt trickle down his cheek, as I gave him the burnt and singed fireman's hat.

I remember going back onto the smoldering pile. Again at risk, again in fear. Another two hours on the pile, that felt like two years. Searching, searching. No new signs of life. Still searching, searching for bodies, perhaps closure for a son, a daughter, a husband or wife. Each careful but fear filled step taking me further and deeper onto, then into, then over and under this pile of hot twisted steel, shattered glass, and toppled concrete. Blinding, chocking, poisonous smoke surrounds me. I am looking for life, though walking on a grave. Many graves. Will this become my grave? I don't want to die, though I must go on. Hope keeps me going. Fear keeps me alive. I fear that with one with one wrong move or one ill-fated step I could fall and become trapped. With one wrong move or one ill-fated step, I could even die myself. Why am I here? What am I doing here? Why? Why? I ask myself. Because simply, I am not alone. I am not the only one here risking my life. There are many brave men and women doing their part and risking their lives for the sake and sanctity of our undying, unbreakable American pride, spirit and honor. For the sake of the innocent American workers who went to work to support their families only to die there, never to return home. I am angry. Aggghhhh! I can 't believe I am writing even writing this. Why did this happen? Our world, though awingly bright and beautiful, at times can be dark and very ugly. Good MUST prevail over evil. The good, we are many and we will prevail. I have no doubt. We will not fail and will never fail. When darkness and evil threaten to blanket the light of our good sun, we must fight. Some will die, perhaps myself. This is my duty. I, we, do this for the greater good of the humanity, for the future of the light. You see, the light of the future will one day need to shine on our children. Evil's darkness will be defeated and our children will see the light as we have finally on September 11th. The brave men and women who gave their lives in hopes of rescuing others, showed me the light and taught me that good can and will prevail over evil. They are my example and I am grateful for what they taught me. I must now put on their shoes and move on in their place, or else what will have I learned and what did they die for. This is my good deed, the duty of being an American. The duty of securing a good future for our unborn. So with this in mind I move forward. Hours pass with no signs of life and the hope of finding even the dead seem futile as this mountain of seemingly never ending horror had not just buried good people, its buried an entire 1/2 mile of Manhattan. God be with me in my search. I pray. I pray, I may find someone alive or even someone dead, so they can be buried with honor and pride by their loving families. Finding a human, alive or dead in terrain of terror is like searching for a needle in a haystack, though this, realities haystack is compiled of two 110 story buildings, two obliterated plane's and the needles are not needles but people. Each one found cuts into to my heart, not like a needle but like a knife. It hurts. I can't explain how it feels finding 10/6/2008 Page 3 of 12 someone buried in this mountain of mayhem. I remember hearing a fire chief speaking over a loud speaker. The pile is unstable, the pile is unstable. The pile must be evacuated immediately. I remember being at the very top of the pile when I heard this. Mine, like many other rescuers hearts skip a beat. Almost simultaneously, everyone stops what they are doing, drops what they have in their hands and starts the long and treacherous task of getting down of this pile. As I was making my way down the pile I noticed a steal stretcher and a motley of tools and equipment just dropped in place and left on the pile. I knew we were short on supplies and supplies were precious, as they were greatly needed in our search. I stopped for a moment as other were getting off the pile. I feared if the pile was unstable and debris shifted or collapsed in that some of the supplies and tools may be buried. I made my way over to the stretcher and picked it up. I used the stretcher to load up and hold various supplies I found on my way down the pile. I filled up the stretcher with shovels and small 02 tanks as well and saws and other tools. When the stretcher was full and could hold no more I strapped the tools to the stretcher like one would strap in a body. After the stretcher could hold no more, and the tools were strapped to it securely I began to make my way down the pile again. I realized that at this point I was the only one left on this side of the pile as everyone else was already off the pile and waiting at the base of the pile for further instruction. I made my way down as far as I could with the stretcher alone. When I was within yelling distance of people at the bottom of the pile I called down to the fire chief to send one person up to help me carry the stretcher down the rest of the way. As I was waiting for someone to come up and assist me getting the stretcher the rest of the way down and off the pile, I noticed far off in the distance two very large tanks, one red and one green. These tanks were, red, an acetylene gas tank, and green, an 02 tank used along with a blowtorch for cutting steel beams on the pile. These tanks were very large, almost 6 feet tall. I noticed the tanks were leaning very close to the edge of a large and deep hole in the pile. It looked as if they were ready to fall in. I was alarmed, as I knew if these tanks fell into the hole that the force of these tanks hitting the debris below could cause them to explode. I knew what I had to do. When I got to the bottom of the pile with the stretcher I told the fire chief what I had seen. He was alarmed as well. He said we have to get those tanks off the pile ASAP as if they fall or get to hot that they could blow. He said the tanks could cause an explosion that would bring down any and all of the building still standing and propel already loose debris all over Manhattan and clear into New Jersey. He mentioned that a small propane tank from a gas grill could reduce a large house to match sticks. He said if the tank acetylene gas and 02 tanks blew they would kill anyone within 1000 yards of the tanks and maybe people miles away as the explosion would send debris a mile into the air at about 500 miles an hour. I went back up onto the pile. He yelled to me to be careful. I made my way quickly but carefully over to the two tanks. They were about 150 feet from the bottom of the pile where about 200 police, fire fighters and rescue workers were waiting for instruction. Normally it would take someone about 45 seconds to walk 150 feet but this 150 feet was over a mountain on steel beams and debris. It took me about three minutes to get to the tanks. When I got to the tanks I noticed they were 3/4's full and still on. I got a little scared as I pictured in my head what would happen to me and everyone else if these tanks went up. I had hoped they were empty. They were not. I looked for a key or the key that I need to use to shut these tanks off, stopping the flow of explosive gas that was filling the two hoses that I saw no end to. There were two hoses attached and they were even further into the pile. I could not see where the hoses were going but knew that on the other end was a blowtorch.! yelled down to the chief that there was no key to shut off the flow of gas and no key to take off the hoses. He had about 100 people searching for a key but one was not found. He sent someone up to help me secure the tanks as; again, they were hanging over the edge of a fiery pit. The tanks were very heavy and hard to pull or lift up, as we ourselves were trying not to fall in the hole. Once the tanks were up and secured the chief told me I had to find the ends of the hoses and they would need to be wrapped up all the way back to the tanks so we could get these tanks off before they blew. These hoses were about 300 feet long and were tangled into the pile like a fishing line tangled on a reel. I figured even if! found the end of the hoses how would I untangle them by myself or even with help. Well I finally made my way to the end of the hoses. To my fear and dismay at the end of the hoses was a 4-foot long blowtorch. Rescuers and searchers were using the torch to cut, free up and clear away debris allowing other rescuers and searchers to keep searching. These tanks are to be handled with extreme care and caution. In the chaos of the pile evacuation they were just dropped and left were they were as people just wanted to get off the unstable pile as quickly as possible. The torch was being used to cut through a 2 to 4 inch think and 4 feet around steel beam. I knew this because I could see the beam half cut and four or five small fires and red ambers directly around where they were cutting. The torch itself had been dropped and was wedged between another piece of steal and some concrete. I heard a hiss coming from the torch end. The torch handle was actually wedged in as well allowing explosive gas to leak out of the end of the torch. I think at that point I would have rather been close to the hiss of a Cobra snake that the hiss of leaking explosive gas surrounded by fire and burning embers. I wanted to turn around and run way but knew I couldn't ' t. I quickly tried to lift the torch from where it was wedged but was afraid I would cause a spark and explosion. I covered the end of the torch with my shirt trying to stop some of the gas from coming out which did not work, so I had to take a chance and just pull it out. I held my breath and closed my eyes, turning my face way like it would have done any good if the gas was ignited, and pulled the torch from where it was wedged. God was with me I think. Well after finally finding the end of the torch and freeing up the wedged in torch I began trying to untangle and roll the hoses so I could get off the pile. The hoses seemed to be buried under just about everything. I had a very difficult time getting the hoses freed up and then rolling them up, as they were 300 feet long. I kept hitting the nozzle on the torch releasing explosive gas. Each hiss felt like it stopped my heart, as there was fire everywhere. Once I got back to the two tanks I called down for a few guys to help me lift the tanks up and carry then off the pile. It took 10 guys and about an hour to get these two tanks and hose down. When I finally stepped of the pile and these tanks were taken away I took a sign of relief. The fire chief said good job buddy if you didn't see those cans they would have sat up there unattended for an hour or two. The tanks would have either fallen in the hole causing an explosion or the leaking gas would have caused an explosion as it was leaking already for at least 20 minutes 5 to 10 feet from fire. He said, I may have stopped a second disaster from happening and may have saved everyone standing at the base of the pile including he and myself from imminent death. To this day I can only imagine what would have happened if! did 't go to ground zero or even if! didn't 't stop during the pile evacuation to gather dropped and left behind tools. Well they wouldn't let anyone back on the pile for about an hour and 112. I was told that the tanks would have surely gone up as they would have been up there leaking and leaking and leaking and that the fire surrounding fire would have surely caused them to go up. I needed the brake to think about what happened and what might have.

I got back on the pile again after we were told the pile was somewhat stable again and began our search all over again. My heart was wrenched as I found a child 's picture frame. It was blue and had Bugs Bunny around the edges. It contained a picture of what looked like maybe, a six and ten year old girl. On the bottom of the frame, along Bugs Bunny's feet, it said, The World's Greatest Dad. I found a crystal wine glass standing dust free and intact on a broken and fallen beam, standing and shinning, next to an unopened bottle of wine in a toppled office that I entered, after climbing into a dark and smoldering hole at the top of the pile. To enter the office I needed to climb about ten feet down and then another ten feet over through sharp and broken hot steal, smoke, rubble and darkness. Who put it there? Where were they? I searched with two other rescuers, thinking someone must be in here. We had hope but found nothing. All I found was a dust covered stuffed teddy bear clothed in a boy-scout uniform. I grasped the teddy bear and didn't let go. I don't know why. Myself and the two other rescuers began our decent out of the office and back into the rubble below. Just as we climbed into the darkness, trying to find our way back to the top of the pile, it started pouring rain. We were still making our way out of this dark void. We were now climbing around under the rubble again, and directly under the office we just searched. Water started seeping through the rubble causing a thick steam that joined with the smoke and blinding us. We were scared and stopped for a moment in the dark hole we already were lost in. For a minute I could feel the water trickling down tI1rough the cracks and on to my face filling my eyes with more debris. At first, it was hard to tell if it was the rain on my face, or tears exploding from my heart. The pile started to shift. For a minute, we thought we would be buried alive as the rain loosened the dust and ash between about 5000 pounds of broken steel beams and concrete. We wiped our faces and pulled out our flashlights and as quickly as possible, made our way out of the hole, back to the top of the smoldering pile. We were relieved to have gotten out safely. We sat down for a second as the rain poured on us. We were soaked and numb and found it hard to make our way off the pile. Everyone was ordered clear the pile because of the shifting debris. Once you felt things couldn't 't possibly get any worse, Thunder and lightning started terrorizing the sky above. One of the rescuers said. "Do you guys realize, we are sitting on a solid steel beam, at the very top of the pile, with thunder and lightning tearing and rippling its way through the New York skyline." He said, " Watch us get struck by lightning". We laughed for a second then started on way off the pile. I stopped for a second to stuff my flashlight back into my belt. I suddenly realized I left the teddy bear behind. The teddy bear I clung to so tightly in the hole, we were almost trapped in. I felt overcome by sadness and actually felt guilty for leaving the teddy bear behind. That's how incredibly messed up my mind was after so many days without rest, sleep and little food. I told the guys, I thought I dropped my wallet in the hole and I needed to go back up to briefly get it. I was lying of course. I was too embarrassed to admit, I was going back up, and risking my life, yet again to save a teddy bear. I thought they would think I was nuts. They said, "ok" and made their way down and off the pile. Simultaneously, I made my way back up the pile, towards the hole we had just climbed out of. I was actually prepared to climb back into the hole to save a teddy bear. I don 't know what I was thinking. This was certainly not the smartest thing I did during my four days on the pile. I couldn't help myself. I was driven to save the teddy from one more second in that dark wet hole and out of what seemed like hell on earth. When I got back to tile where I remembered the hole being, only 10 or 20 minutes later, it was gone, completely filled in. The rain loosened up the debris around the hole and collapsed into the hole filling it in. My heart shuttered for a moment as I realized my brief stupidity. I got off the pile as fast as I could. I met the guys at the bottom of the pile. They were waiting for me. I couldn't 't tell them the hole had collapsed in, only 20 minutes after we climbed out of it. I kept it to myself, knowing we would most likely have to climb right back into another dark death trap, when the rain stopped. We still had a job to do. I didn't' t, I couldn't 't to make it any harder or scarier for the guys I was working with.

How does one cope with so much hurt and pain? How do you keep going from one heart-wrenching situation to the next? I don't know, but I did, as did, 1000 other police, firefighters, rescuers and volunteers. People were in need. It was as simple as that.

Motley of mixed, unexplainable and painful feelings run through my mind when I think of the hellish destruction, I witnessed at the WTC in New York.

I wondered when I searched the rubble and destruction; on, in, around and under the pile at Ground Zero, in and out of the crumbled and burning office buildings, where have all our cherished Mothers, Fathers Brothers, Sisters, and friends, gone. 7000 missing!

Could some of them be alive? Please let some of them be alive! Where could they all be? Bewilderment, be stills my recent life 's peace.

I still wonder about the 7000 others missing. My aggravated and impoverished eyes drown in tears of infinite sadness as I contemplate the sheer magnitude of the many precious lives lost at the WTC and the Pentagon. How do I heal? How do we deal?

I was beaten and bruised, with mild burns on my hands and wrist, my lungs full of soot, and my mind was overcome by the emotions of the week.

After being home for two weeks I found I was fighting sleeplessness, sadness, etc. I realized I had been a tad lost for a while after experiencing and taking in all of the horrific experiences during that tragic week. I often woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that has replayed in my dreams over and over, since the disaster. I seem to be stuck in a painful and seemingly endless pain-filed rut. I am trying to find my way back to reality, back to life. I just can 't seem to shake this cough and cry.

I came down with bronchitis, sinusitis and pneumonia from working for a week straight on the Pile with little food, no sleep, and constant exposure to all the horror in the air and that nice series of thunderstorms we had on Friday the 14th. I can only imagine what I breathed in over the course of 4 days at Ground Zero.

My doctor prescribed me two antibiotics, an inhaler for my lungs, an inhaler for my sinuses and a sedative to help me sleep. I am tuff though and will get better, in addition, I understand for others involved during the collapse of the towers and immediately following are far worse than I.

I wonder how the other fire fighters police and rescue workers are feeling mentally and physically?

For me, I have been and will continue to pray for them. I am proud I went to New York to help out my fellow American's in their time of crisis and pain. My body will heal in time. I hope soon though because I am tired of being sick.

I think the mental pain will be around for a while. Some of the mental pain is for me, though the lasting mental I feel and will for a long time, is for all the glorious Americans who died that day.

Tears of grief and disbelief fall endlessly from my tired eyes. I understand why my tears fall, and don't fight them. I understand the need for tears.

As each tear wells up beneath my tired eye lids, then travels slowly down my cheek, a small amount of the dust, chemicals and particle debris, once imbedded in my eyes, gets washed away. I let the tears fall.

Each tear and each new day that passes, slowly washes away my pain, in my eyes and in my heart. A tear falls, a day passes and my heart mends, one day at a time. I hope and pray we all will restore our good and happy thoughts of life. I have faith in us for we are great and proud Americans. One tear and one day at a time we will heal and prevail.

As for the five Beautiful Americans I found who died as well as the 7000 other not yet found. I know where they are now.

They have passed through the Purely Gates of Heaven. They will forever rest in the sanctity and serenity of Heavens protective clouds. 1 think, God by now, will have given then Golden Wings to fly. 1 know they will watch over us, as I know we will never forget them.

I am glad and sad that 1 candle to New York and was able to help would do it again. Most of all, and the way I will cope with the tragedy and its dark moments, is by remembering the one we saved and knowing the sun will rise again in New York and in our RED, white and blue-hearts.

It's funny, was at Ground Zero four almost five days and made some seemingly very close friends, some new brothers and sisters. The only problem is, none of had on nametags nor had time for formal introductions. So am back in Boston and trying to live my life, dealing as best can, with the thoughts and often-painful emotions stemming from my week at Ground Zero feel pain that my never go away though realize what I did was necessary. All that did at Ground Zero was for the sake of the greater good of our Country and Countrymen and women as well as for the sake the sake of the future the free world and the future of our children may never be rewarded for my efforts at Ground Zero, nor will 1 ever be able to again meet the certain hero's I worked with at Ground Zero as they don't know my name and 1 don't know theirs. What 1 do know is we took part in an event that will never be forgotten by people that were there and people that saw it on TV. It was a bittersweet experience. Mostly bitter, though knowing we can unite and come together under times of darkness for our country tells me that the light will always shine over the USA and our sprit will never be defeated. That's reward enough for me. Ground Zero created allot of unsung heroes you may never hear about or see in on the news or in a movie about 91 I but we were there and were proud as well as honored to have served our Country in time of crisis.

I hope someday other countries will understand and appreciate our sacrifice, our tolerance and our strength. Our great Country was built in a spirit of union. We live in a giant melting pot. Though our country is diverse, we all can find common ground in each other, if we try, and we do. We Americans find normalcy in each other. That's how we intermingle successfully despite our own complexities. As our, flag is Red, White and Blue. Our spirits are White, Black, Yellow, Red, etc. Our Red, White and Blue flag is our symbol of our strength and freedom. Our White, Black, Yellow, Red, etc. realities, symbolize our undying sprit and unity. I reiterate our great Country was built in a spirit ofullion. The trick, and what some other Countries, may need to learn is the importance of normalcy. Normalcy comes with understanding, acceptance and outreach. The trick is for them to learn as much about others as they can, as well as to share as much of themselves with others utilizing, the spirit of understanding, acceptance and outreach, riding normalcy in one another. This is how we unite and Stand United. Some of these other countries must first learn and understand the importance of normalcy. Global unification will follow. Normalcy will and can only be found when we share and merge our diversity.

USA-United Stands All
God Bless us all, everywhere.
Sincerely Craig A Garber