Disgraceful

How does such a obvious and extreme partisan display, get a place in a prominent public library? Can I have my tax dollars back that were spent on making this possible, Mr. Bloomberg?

This will not happen

I will be there at 9:30am wearing one of my many "USA" T-Shirts. We need to organize. I am not waiting on a permit, I will be there, and I ask anyone who reads this and is in NYC to join me. If I have to hold him back myself I will, or get arrested trying.

Sept 11th

It's pouring outside right now, as I look out the window of my space on the 29th Floor of 48 Wall. This is the highest floor I've worked on since this date 6 years ago, when my office on the 46th floor of 2WTC ceased to exist, and though some would ask in amazement "Aren't you afraid of being trapped in a tower after 9/11?", I am not. Looking out over my city is a beautiful sight. When I used to bring visiting family to Windows on the World I would spend most of my time plastered against the glass windows, staring out towards the east, able to see New York in a way now only possible by flight. My bosses, Arthur and Steve, and I used to love watching the snow fall from the windows on 68 (where my first cube was in the Trade Center), knowing that by the time the snow reached the people on the ground it would be rain.

My wife had a film crew from Dumfries over on the weekend to interview her about her move from Scotland to NYC, and before they left they asked if she had any memories about 9/11 for a segment they were doing. She explained that she wasn't here yet, but that I had actually worked in the Trade Center, so they asked me to tell my story and filmed it. I don't reflect on that day much, I can count on my fingers the number of times I told my story of that day. It did occur to me that September 11th fell on a Tuesday this year as it did in 2001. The memories are clear in my head, but any attempt at putting my memories to words never seem to do them justice, maybe just from a lack of proper writing skill. I tried for them though, I started my story and made it about halfway before starting to swell up. The act of telling the story seemed to pull me back six years, bringing out emotions that I needed to suppress during that day so that I could think straight. I didn't tell my whole story, and I'm sure at the end it was much gibberish as I was trying to keep from openly crying. The last thing that they asked me was "Do you feel that because of that day you appreciate your family more?" I don't even recall my answer, but I can answer it properly now.

The slightest change in circumstances would have meant the death of myself and between 50,000 and 100,000 others in lower Manhattan that morning. Every day that those of us who were down there live, from my brother Matt who was on 46 when the planes hit, to my friend Ed who worked mere blocks away, is a gift. That my family exists is the greatest gift of all, and in colorful terms, that makes it Christmas every day for me.

A New Addition

We welcomed a new addition to our family on Tuesday night. Luna, a 4 month old Alaskan Malamute pup. She has integrated very quickly despite my daughter doing her best Elmira Fudd impression. Here is a shot of her after a much needed bath the day following her arrival.

Tribe America

Michael Yon, in his latest dispatch, describes a change in the air in Baqubah as operation Arrowhead Ripper reaches day 16:

The big news on the streets today is that the people of Baqubah are generally ecstatic, although many hold in reserve a serious concern that we will abandon them again. For many Iraqis, we have morphed from being invaders to occupiers to members of a tribe. I call it the "al Ameriki tribe," or "tribe America."

...In the context of sectarian and tribal strife, we are the tribe that people can—more or less and with giant caveats—rely on.

This is great news and it shows that we have made progress on the ground in a real, tangible way. Interestingly, as I read this I couldn't help but think back to one of Bill Whittles' essays, Tribes:

...the people I associate with – my Tribe – consists not of blacks and whites and gays and Hispanics and Asians, but of individuals who do not rape, murder, or steal. My Tribe consists of people who know that sometimes bad things happen, and that these instances are opportunities to show ourselves what we are made of. My people go into burning buildings. My Tribe consists of organizers and self-starters, proud and self-reliant people who do not need to be told what to do in a crisis. My Tribe is not fearless; they are something better. They are courageous. My Tribe is honorable, and decent, and kind, and inventive. My Tribe knows how to give orders, and how to follow them. My Tribe knows enough about how the world works to figure out ways to boil water, ration food, repair structures, build and maintain makeshift latrines, and care for the wounded and the dead with respect and compassion.

Notice a link? Those that hate America won't, but luckily the Iraqis do and they are starting to understand our tribe, of which our brave soldiers are an excellent representation. Of course, it is easy to see the truth when you have lived under that other "tribe":

(Note: Skip this quote if you are faint of heart)

The official reported that on a couple of occasions in Baqubah, al Qaeda invited to lunch families they wanted to convert to their way of thinking. In each instance, the family had a boy, he said, who was about 11-years-old. As LT David Wallach interpreted the man’s words, I saw Wallach go blank and silent. He stopped interpreting for a moment. I asked Wallach, "What did he say?" Wallach said that at these luncheons, the families were sat down to eat. And then their boy was brought in with his mouth stuffed. The boy had been baked. Al Qaeda served the boy to his family.

How does one read that without their blood boiling?
This is pure barbarity and unquestionable evil, and these monsters deserve every drop of our wrath. We must not tolerate it, wherever it exists, and we must be relentless in our pursuit of it. To stand idly by in face of such atrocity is, to me, un-American.

Keep up the great work Michael, and keep safe.

God Bless America

Home of the Free, Land of the Brave.

Those of us who were lucky enough to be born in this Great Country don't get to hear much about what makes America so special through our own media, where Patriotism seems to be a dirty word. Luckily we have someone behind enemy lines who can fill that gap. Thanks for the carrying the Stars and Stripes, Frogman, and for your faith in America.

Happy Independence Day!

A perspective from the inside

The headlines today declare a new age in France, but luckily The Dissident Frogman has awoken from his hibernation just in time to put it all into perspective for us.
So even if this election isn't likely to change much, it at least spurred on a new post from a great blogger, and that is good news!

Time

There are times where I wish I had the bandwidth to write frequently (or at all), because some things just need to be written. Fortunately for me, my Fox wrote what I wanted to shout out to the world today - and as usual, she hits it right on the nose.