Sunday, December 23, 2007

Sunday Song, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Merry Christmas, My Friend

Sunny - Hi 61 Lo 37 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 59 Lo 31 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Rainy - Hi 50 Lo 27 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Judy Garland

Something about this song... not just the melody, but the lyrics, and not just that... others have covered the song since... including my beloved Frank Sinatra... but there is an undercurrent of sadness and desperation in the voice of this young 20 something Judy Garland that no one else has been able to capture... not even when she sang this song in later years does it match the melancholy of this version... Maybe it was the time and place... 1943... Our country was at war on two fronts, everyone back home was making all kinds of sacrifices... Our young men were asked to do unthinkable things to keep the home front safe. The song appeared in a movie called Meet Me in St. Louis (one I don't have and would very much like to have)... The movie was released around Thanksgiving of 1944... some of the darkest days of World War II--- we had suffered 500,000 casualties by the time the movie premiered; the Battle of the Bulge was just a few weeks away; plans for an atomic bomb were well underway... Yes, the musical was set at the turn of the century with lots of wonderful songs... Margaret O'Brien stole every scene she was in... but the scene that makes my heart stop... Judy is obviously in period costuming... she is singing to Margaret... or wait... is Judy singing to young men in uniform far from home in harms way? Yes, I believe she is... They are 18, 19, 20, 30, 40 years old...our sons, our brothers and our fathers... Judy is expressing the sadness of those that can not be together this special time of year... They are our first loves, our fiances, and our husbands and they are cold and wet or maybe they are in a hot humid climate where malaria runs rampant... either backdrop... they are far from home at Christmas...

Remember our troops at Christmas. Raise a glass to them and bow your heads and thank God for them... ask Him to keep them safe.


The first time I read this, was many years ago. My
Uncle Charlie sent it to me. I tear up every time I read it.

Merry Christmas, My Friend

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi, and goodnight.

- Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt,
USMC, 1986

*** Lastly, there was no one more committed to our soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines than Bob Hope... I have no doubt he is putting on a USO show in heaven...

(please make sure the Sunday song has stopped playing before starting this video.)

World War

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
Next year all
our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
Next year all
our troubles will be miles away.

Once again as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Will be near to us once more.

Someday soon
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Until then will have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself A merry little Christmas now.

Merry Christmas!

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Sunday Song, Kind and Generous

The Gratitude Campaign

Sunny - Hi 68 Lo 49 for Baghdad, Iraq
Partly Cloudy - Hi 60 Lo 41 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Rain - Hi 49 Lo 39 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Kind and Generous, Natalie Merchant

I have had Kind and Generous as the Sunday Song previously. It is a beautifully written song with a lovely melody. Natalie's voice is like no other.

I have Ophelia- but really need to get Tigerlily, her first solo album. I have it... on cassette... Tigerlily has the song Wonder... which I may have to play next week... The song is great, but what really gets to me is the music video that goes with it...


It's been a few weeks since I last posted an entry on my blog. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Ours was very nice. Michael and I had a houseful of family and Michael's cooking was superb.

We are now in the throws of the hustle and bustle of Christmas. We did our "Power Shopping" trip last Sunday-- so we are finished... I have 90% of the inside of house decorated and unfortunately have not started on Christmas cards... I make them by hand and send out about 70 cards... so, I'm a tad panicky about that., I have to wrap all the gifts too... and then get all the out of town gifts mailed by hopefully next Friday. I love to gift wrap as much as I enjoy making cards. So... I have a busy couple of weeks... like everyone else. So, that brings me to my point. Be sure to take time out and ENJOY the season. It is a wonderful time of year. Michael and I had a great time last Sunday shopping. Smile and thank the sales help... as we get closer to the 24th... they will look more and more haggard and "pinata-ized" (just made up that word). Trust me... if you smile and hum while shopping... you will enjoy yourself... take it from someone that absolutely hates crowds (and in recent years, started getting a little weirded out in large crowds)... your time will be much more enjoyable... look... you know you are going to deal with long lines and kids that don't know how to make change, parking issues, bad weather, and folks that have some serious bah humbug attitude... Remember the reason for the season... remember why you are out and about... spread some Christmas cheer and smile...

Today, we are going to the matinee production of A Christmas Carol at the Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park. It is a wonderful annual production of that classic story. I have seen it once before and simply loved it. This will be Michael's first time- but he actually asked to see it... His favorite Christmas movie is Scrooge starring Alastair Sim and by far in my humble opinion the best depiction of Charles Dickens most humbug character.

A few weeks ago, I was traveling on business and was attempting to make a connecting flight in Philadelphia... My flight from Cincinnati arrived late, so I was making the mad dash to my next gate. As I was weaving in and out of the clusters of people, I saw a soldier standing at the counter of a gate. I continued walking, but then slowed down and retraced my footsteps and went up to the soldier- looked at the attendant to allow me to interrupt and clasped the soldiers hand and thanked him... As I recall... I said... "thank you so much!" Then the craziest thing... he thanked me! Wha??? I left that counter smiling and feeling stupid.... was that the best I could come up with?... Here is this guy... just coming home from Iraq or Afghanistan or Germany or somewhere that wasn't home.... and this was the best I could do.... I'm so goofy. We continued on, my manager a couple paces behind me... walking down the corridor another soldier... I stopped in front of him.... reached out with both my hands and held his hand in mine... His hand was cold and rough... He looked lost. I looked him in the eye and said the same words to him. "Thank you so much!" He held on to my hand and said, "Ma'am. That was nice. Thank you." He thanked me! Again... crazy... thanking me! He called me ma'am... I am officially old enough to be called ma'am... ugh. We continued walking towards our gate and my boss said... "How do you do that? Walk up to strangers and do that?" I stopped and looked at him- smiled--- I distinctly remember thinking, I need to smile... Rob says I can be scary and intimidating if I don't smile... I apparently have some sort of look I give, so I smiled and said, "Feeling weird and awkward for 10 seconds is the least I can do compared to the sacrifice these guys have made." Oh, when we got to our gate, our flight had been canceled. So I am particularly happy that I did stop and thank those young men. Had I not, I would have thought about that for the next 7 hours as I waited for my flight. Instead, I had the pleasure of sitting in the airport for 7 hours........ reading a book, having a complimentary lunch and dinner on United as well as a couple of complimentary cocktails on my company and the realization that life is all about perspective. It was good day.

Then by coincidence by boy Kyle sent me a link to The Gratitude Campaign. This is the coolest thing yet. It doesn't cost a dime and anyone can do it. Watch the video - be sure to stop Natalie before playing this. Join the campaign.

If you are seen thanking active duty or veteran or police officer or fireman... it makes it easier for the next person to do it... give it a shot... your Holidays will be that much more meaningful...

Who can forget this commercial from Budweiser? I dare you not to cry.

One other thing... I have received an email a few times-- it suggests you send some cards to "any soldier" at Walter Reed Hospital. Although this is a great suggestion, unfortunately, this year you will be wasting your time and postage. I had been doing this for the past few years and last year I had 6 of the 10 cards I sent returned to me... In February, I received a postcard from Major General George Weightman stating for security reasons they could no longer accept mail, care packages or donations sent to "Any Wounded Soldier". Although this is unfortunate, there is still time to show appreciation... go to my sidebar and click on the "Support Our Troops" button. There you will find organizations where you can show your support and appreciation. Remember there will be a lot of men and women in harms way Christmas. Don't forget them.

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

To learn more about this campaign visit: The Gratitude Campaign

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Sunday Song, The Walls Came Down

Sunny - Hi 68 Lo 47 for Baghdad, Iraq
Partly Cloudy - Hi 76 Lo 37 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Rainy - Hi 48 Lo 42 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: The Walls Came Down, The Call

The Call was a band that I was crazy about during my high school years. Along with U2, The Police, The Alarm, and many others that I have mentioned countless times. The Call was edgy and new. The Call was a political band that I forgave time and time again for their lyrics. I can't say that as a 17 year old this was a conscious effort... "oh that was a slap against President Reagan... I forgive you..." It was more about ignoring the slam... and just listening to the music. The Walls Came Down was so stinkin' danceable....

I was originally going to post a song by The Psychedelic Furs called President Gas because I thought I'd write about my thoughts on the 2008 election... but the song doesn't hold the same appeal it once did. As an adult...sometimes I just can't ignore the lyrics...


So I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving. We certainly did. Of course, Adriaan was missed and Michael's mother will really have a difficult time making it through the holidays. She has the support of her family.

I just bought Michael tickets to see the annual production of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol . Watching the 1951 version starring Alastair Sim is something he looks forward to every year, so I think he will love the stage production.

Also, we are going to make a trip up to Cleveland before Christmas... Why you ask? To see the house from A Christmas Story of course! As many times as we have traveled to Cleveland... it never occurred to us that the house that the movie was filmed in would actually be open to the public. So, I'm thinking we can make a trip up there to take a picture of Michael in front of the house w/ a Red Rider (either one we buy there or maybe we can borrow JoAnna's) and we can shop at the Arcade and at Tower City... make a nice little weekend of it...

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

In searching for a myspace for The Call... I found The Call... but it's not the same band... not bad though... kinda liking them right now... The Call

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Sunday Song, Blue Moon of Kentucky

I was looking for a clip from the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles-- one of just a couple of movies that celebrate Thanksgiving... It is one of my most favorite movies. It is heartwarming and sweet and hysterically funny. Above all, John Hughes brings to life what it means to be thankful, to appreciate what is most important and sadly what we most often take for granted...

In any event... there is a scene with Steve Martin and John Candy driving in the dead of winter in a charred remnant of what was once a vehicle and they are singing Blue Moon of Kentucky.

I used to hate Bluegrass... in the last 10-15 years I have really grown to love it... it's one of the foundations of rock n roll....

So, in my search... I found a ton of versions.... so... I am lifting this idea from the fabulous, multi talented, Dragon Lady.

Many believe that Elvis has dibbs on this song...

But in reality it is the legendary Bill Monroe that not only sang this song for the first time, but he and his Blue Grass Boys created this genre of music. Quite frankly, I prefer this version.

The fabulous Patsy Cline

The Hungarian Rockabilly version... This one if for Michael.. Clippers is the name of the band... pretty good.

The Swedish do Bluegrass-- Blue Mountain Boys

Bluegrass origins come from Ireland--- maybe that's why the following version is so good.

Blue Moon of Kentucky This is a great version!

But there is this version... Asians sucking on helium filled balloons before stepping up to the microphone...

The best part about Bluegrass music is that it lends itself to those who can not sing. It's all about being able to sing flat and slightly off key- as you get older, the more "authentic" you sound. What carries the listener is the musicianship---the musicians improvise and take turns in playing the melody. If you have never listened... give it a chance...

Have a great week!

With Humble Appreciation

Thank you.

Millersburg, Ohio

Michael and I went up to Holmes County, Ohio last weekend to spend some time in the clean crisp air of Amish country. Like all previous trips we had a lovely time.

Here are a few not very good photos... (click on them to enlarge)

We stop by a farm/store run by Mennonites and they also have a bunch of farmyard animals running around... Michael and I named this "furry" creature Kitten Chicken.Is it a horse, mule or zebra? Whatever... very sweet animal... This made us chuckle... we knew people could be "on the wagon", just had no idea that pumpkins were afflicted with the same sort of problems... I actually took some good shots of this... (this one- not included) but in my attempt to be "artistic" and capture the basic labors of the Amish... I neglected to see the beer bottle... Amish drink beer?

The courthouse

Saturday, November 03, 2007

No One Won---

Well--- that's not quite true... no one won the bet. I should have won, but the doctor knowing what's best said that she needed to stay in the oven a little longer...

Well... she is awfully cute...

Proud Mama and Papa seem to be doing well...

Welcome to the world River Emalene... We've been waiting for you.

-- Love this song and found this video done by the young girl for her father...

Father and Daughter - Paul Simon

If you leap awake
In the mirror of a bad dream
And for a fraction of a second
You can't remember where you are
Just open your window
And follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain
Where we counted every falling star

I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I’m gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you
With a sweet dream in your head

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Trust your intuition
It's just like going fishing
You cast your line
And hope you'll get a bite
But you don't need to waste your time
Worrying about the market place
Try to help the human race
Struggling to survive its harshest night

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Sunday Song, Superstitition

Come to Rabbit Hash, KY November 3 and 4

Friends of Rabbit Hash Plan Benefit for Richard Young

Citizens in and around the historical town of Rabbit Hash (best known for electing a dog as its mayor) are staging a benefit to be held Saturday and Sunday November 3rd and 4th in the barn and in the Rabbit Hash General Store. The proceeds of the benefit will go to Richard Young, husband to Terrie Markesbery-Young, proprietress of the Store. Richard has been diagnosed with Stage 4 neck and head cancer. The money is meant to defray what will undoubtedly be astronomical medical costs.

Young is a master stone carver, whose craftsmanship and artistry is known for his expertise with the hammer and chisel. He carves the same way it has been done for thousands of years; strictly by hand. Examples of his work can be found throughout the tri-state, most notably at the All Saints Catholic Church in Walton, KY., for which he carved hundreds of figures, symbols and architectural features that adorn the church.

The benefit will include a silent auction to be held on Saturday only from 4:00 to 7:00 pm in the Art Gallery. The auction will include donated items such as original artwork, hand made jewelry, specialty baskets and an antique ruger with a hand crafted holster.

The rest of Saturday and Sunday will be filled with barbeque, burgers, raffles, live music and an appearance by the world famous canine mayor, "Junior". Over 20 local bands from varied genres of music have generously donated their time to the benefit.

Beginning at 12:00 NOON both days, the scheduled live music acts will be:

Saturday, November 3rd: Remember... Turn clocks back 1 hour Saturday night!

In the Store

12:00 The Rabbit Hash String Band
1:00 Moonshine Drive
2:15 Cynical Mountain Boys
3:30 Brian Ewing
4:45 Anna Scala 6:30 The StarDevils
6:00 Comet Bluegrass All-Stars
7:15 Frontier Folk Nebraska

In the Barn

1:30 Lagniappe
2:45 DRB & the Private Orchestra
4:00 The Modified
5:15 The Turkeys
7:45 Poke
9:00 500 Miles to Memphis
10:15 Kenton County Regulators

Sunday, November 4th:

In the Store

12:00 Reminiscent
1:00 Lauren Houston
2:15 Downtown County Band
3:30 Raison D'Etre
4:45 Chris Dunnett
6:00 The Moxie Band

In the Barn

1:30 Core
2:45 Kelly Thomas & the Fabulous Pick Ups
4:00 Dallas Moore
5:15 Jake Speed
6:30 Straw Boss

Food, drink, raffles, and kisses from Mayor Junior throughout both days! All aspects of the benefit are open to the public. $10 donation to the "Richard Young Expense Fund" is suggested.

In addition, a fund for Richard has been set up at Heritage Bank. Donations to the Richard Young Expense Fund can be made at any branch. You may also donate online via the Rabbit Hash General Store's Paypal account.

NOTE: For the latest up-to-date event information, directions or to make a contribution go to:
Richard Young Benefit

They were making a mockery of my horror!

Sunny - Hi 88 Lo 65 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 78 Lo 45 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 57 Lo 35 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Superstition, Stevie Wonder

This song is from a time when Stevie knew how to do rock. I love this song- the fact that he performed this on Sesame Street makes me giggle. Turn up the volume and dance--- get the blood flowing!


The following is a portion of my October 30, 2005 post. I still haven't done the top 10 creepy movies... maybe next year. Michael and I watched a horrible movie last night. It was from 1964 and must have been a drive in movie although Vincent Price starred in it... called The Last Man on Earth. It was on local cable- Public Access... This movie was bad, but like a train wreck... could not stop watching it. Vincent Price is just so good...

I have never been a huge fan of Halloween. I suppose it's because there was never a huge emphasis put on any holiday when Terry and I were growing up. It is also a holiday that revolves around the occult, and I've always been a little creeped out by it. Don't get me wrong... I can come up with another list of movies that hit this genre... note to self... top 10 creepy movies.... Night of the Living Dead... Halloween... anything with Bela Legosi.... Being married to Michael, Halloween has become more fun for me, since it is one of his favorite holidays...(I still get creeped out). Over the years we have a developed a couple of traditions that we are obligated to uphold... Pumpkin carving, watching It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and now, Blair Witch Project.... Michael loves to be scared... not the kind that causes one to scream or be "grossed out", but rather the kind that causes that tingling on the back of your neck... he loves that... but don't we all?

TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story. It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever. Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept. Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?" I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall. Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room. When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot. And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more. If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim. The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

The Tell-Tale Heart
by Edgar Allan Poe

Tell-Tale Heart artwork by Alan M. Clark

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Sunday Song, Sympathy for the Devil

It's Rabbit Season... It's err a ...

Sunny - Hi 91 Lo 69 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 82 Lo 49 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 81 Lo 56 for Northern KY, USA (Unreal!! We still have crickets!)

Song of the week: Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones

Halloween is just a couple of weeks away... so, I've been listening to stuff like this on my iPod. I was sent one of those chain emails by my niece... one of the questions was... Beatles or Stones? My short answer was *yes*. Of course, it depends on my mood... Even when John Paul George and Ringo were into all the hippy stuff and mysticism... they still came off as the good boys... The Rolling Stones were always the bad boys and the music was always dark... always...


Herk commented last week that he wanted to see some of my photos... Well, I took some a couple of weekends ago when we were visiting Rob and Jo... They live year round at a resort... It's beautiful... Michael and I invite ourselves out there as much as possible.

Anyway, it's not wabbit season... but ummmm... it is deer season... err...uhh... everywhere but where they live... the deer that share this resort with Rob and Jo and their neighbors are off limits to hunters... cameras are okay.

The one thing you quickly realize is that these creatures have personality... lots of personality...

For a better more detailed view, please click on each photo. I have not modified any of these photos... these were downloaded from my camera to my computer... One slight modification is mentioned below.

We were tossing apples at the deer.

Pretty girl.

This is one of two favorite shots from that evening.

We were all amused because the deer were all congregating at this house.... we were surmising they heard there was a party...

This girl seemed to have no fear... was very curious and wanted some more apple.

Look at those long eyelashes!

This guy was huge!

I used a flash and had to doctor this photo to minimize the red eye.

My most favorite...

Before playing the cartoon--- please stop the Sunday song.

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Sunday Song, Fire and Rain

Put a Fork in Me...

Partly Cloudy - Hi 99 Lo 73 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 83 Lo 44 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Partly Cloudy - Hi 75 Lo 54 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Fire and Rain, James Taylor

I have always loved this song. The melody sings to my heart, the lyrics always take me to places and people I thought I had forgotten...


Put a fork in me... because I think I'm done. When I started this blog, I made a commitment about 2 1/2 years ago to post every Sunday... I have stayed true to that commitment, but since the beginning of this past summer I have looked at this endeavor as a chore... something this should never become. The posts have been lazy at best.... a waste of time at worst... So, I have made the decision to keep this blog open... I intend to still post, but only when it suits me and I actually have something to write.

Thank you to those of you that continue to visit. I will still be checking in on my favorite places. Sunday mornings you will still find me having a cup of coffee and perusing my favorite blogs. That won't change.

Keep our troops in your hearts and support them whenever possible. We owe them so much. Keep an eye on our political leaders... stay active and let them know what you think. Keep your eyes on the horizon and the upcoming elections... Vote for the most conservative candidate possible during the primaries... Vote for the Republican during the presidential election... Watch Heroes and The Office... Take care of your families and loved ones... Remember to laugh and not take things so seriously...

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Sunday Song, October


Sunny - Hi 97 Lo 73 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 82 Lo 51 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 91 Lo 67 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: October, U2

This time of year, I turn off talk radio and listen to music... I do a lot of deep cleaning this time of year... Thanksgiving is just a few short weeks away.... family and friends will be spending some time here...I dance a lot when I clean... (that's one of the reasons it takes me so long to clean). Anyway... one of my favorite albums to listen to from beginning to end is U2's sophomore record, October. They were so young- so full of passion, their talent so apparent. Back when we were kids and sitting in Monkey Man's basement, we all marveled at the fact that they were only a couple of years older than us... The most powerful aspect of this album was U2's proclamation of their faith... It's not a bible thumping proclamation... Gloria??? With a Shout?? Listen to the entire album... er... CD if you get a chance. If you've never listened... it's time... It's not dated... It's rock n roll, baby.

Although it is October, we are still experiencing ridiculously hot humid weather. Since June, we have had one day where it has rained... maybe Algore is right...

In any event... the days are getting shorter... we don't expect the fall colors to be vibrant this year due to the dry summer, however we are getting a little color on the trees... This time of year opens the door to fall... an incredibly melancholy time of year for me although, I have grown to embrace and enjoy it, thanks to Michael. It's time to make a trip up to Amish country and down to Keeneland. All in due time... but definitely before the winds turn cold...

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Sunday Song, Life During Wartime

War Movies

Mostly Sunny - Hi 100 Lo 75 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 85 Lo 58 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 83 Lo 60 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Life During Wartime,
Talking Heads

As you know, Talking Heads is one of my all time favorite bands. The video clip is from the movie Stop Making Sense... which as you know was my all time favorite concert ever ever ever. The music is driving and makes you at minimum tap your foot at maximum get up and dance or work out... but listen to the words... a little disturbing...

Ramble: So, I haven't done a movie list in quite a while... I thought it was time... You ask, "What's the category?" That's easy! My Favorite War Movies! So without further delay and in no particular order:

-- Please stop the music video above if you intend to watch any of the trailers.

Saving Private Ryan, 1998

Lawrence of Arabia, 1962

Patton, 1970

The Longest Day, 1962

The Bridge on the River Kwai, 1957

The Dirty Dozen, 1967

The Guns of Navarone, 1961

Tora! Tora! Tora!, 1970

We Were Soldiers, 2002

Braveheart, 1995

M*A*S*H, 1970

The Alamo, 1960

The Big Red One, 1980

From Here to Eternity, 1953

The Sullivans, 1944

Since You Went Away, 1944


Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons
packed up and ready to go
Heard of some gravesites, out by the highway
a place where nobody knows
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance
I'm getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstone, lived in the ghetto
I've lived all over this town

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
this ain't no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain't got time for that now

Transmit the message, to the receiver
hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, couple of visas
don't even know my real name
High on a hillside, trucks are loading
everything's ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nightime
I might not ever get home

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
this ain't no fooling around
This ain't no mudd club, or C. B. G. B.
I ain't got time for that now

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
this ain't no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain't got time for that now

Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, PA?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
to last a couple of days
But I ain't got no speakers
ain't got no headphones
ain't got no records to play

Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time?
Can't write a letter, can't send no postcard
I can't write nothing at all
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
this ain't no fooling around
I'd love you hold you, I'd like to kiss you
But I ain't got time for that now

Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock
we blended in with the crowd
We got computers, we're tapping phone lines
I know that ain't allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives
or in a suit and a tie
changed my hairstyle so many times now
don't know what I look like!
You make me shiver, I feel so tender
we make a pretty good team
Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks?
They won't help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace
the burning keeps me alive

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Sunday Song, Joy to the World

O.J. is a Forewarning...

Sunny - Hi 106 Lo 77 for Baghdad, Iraq
Isolated Thunderstorms - Hi 92 Lo 59 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 90 Lo 66 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Joy to the World,
Three Dog Night

Three Dog Night will always have a special place in my heart. This song particularly is one of just a couple of fond memories I have of my father. He loved this song. I remember he used to sing it loudly and badly...


Back in the fall of 1995, the day the jury found O.J. Simpson not guilty... I received a call from my grandfather. "Cass, are you sitting down? Guess who is sitting with me? Your Daddy." Twenty four years. Twenty four years. That's how long it takes a father to show up. I'd like to say it was because his overwhelming guilt got the best of him and he after so many years was trying to make amends... but that was not the case.... He was looking for a handout. Checking to see if my grandparents were still among the living. He even had the audacity to ask about my mother. I made it clear to him... under no uncertain terms was he to go anywhere near her.

This past Friday evening my grandfather called me.... "Cass, guess who just called?" It was such a deja vu. I knew before he even said anything- it only makes sense, the murderer, O.J. Simpson is back in the news... my father resurfaces... perfectly logical to me... My grandfather told me about his conversation and I completely chastised him for speaking to him for such a long time. My grandfather has such a tender heart and I can only imagine the guilt he must carry. He feels responsible for the kind of man my father became. My grandfather is an incredible man. He is kind and responsible and loving. I guess according to my grandfather- the sperm donor had called my Uncle Steve and also my brother. He asked my grandfather for my phone number but thankfully did not provide it. According to my Uncle, he was drunk... debating on whether to go to Hawaii or Alaska... Back in 1995 he was working on fishing boats... I guess he had been doing that the entire time he had been gone and it is no different now.

I'm 42 years old. The emotions when allowed to surface are just as raw today as they were when I was 12 years old. The hurt cuts deeper than I would ever like to admit and I surely do my best to keep it to myself.

He did some shitty things...some unforgettable things. Have a forgiven him? On a good day. Yes. Right now? Not so much. He beat my mother, he threw my brother across the room, he would blow entire paychecks on gambling, he would steal money from my brother and me, he stole money from my mom, she would beg him for money to feed Terry and me and he would give her $5.00, he would disappear for weeks on end, he would use me as a decoy to go visit his multiple girlfriends leaving me in a strange house in a living room in front of a television, after he left, he made no attempt to contact us except once, possibly twice, he never sent my mother money. He was a selfish childish little man.

I'm angry at some of the men in my extended family- it turns out that my father had stayed in contact, all be it sporadic. No one told us. I don't have the courage to ask any of them if they ever asked my father to be a man and take responsibility for his family... send some money once in a while...

We were better off without him in our lives... my constant need of approval from father figures is fall out to this day... My behavior as a teenager also a direct result of looking for approval, acceptance and love from the opposite gender...

I'm still pissed. Angry and hurt and I don't know if this anger will ever go away. So, OJ Simpson pisses me off... Every time that son of a bitch shows up in the news.... my father, the sperm donor resurfaces... both of you... just go away.....................

Read more here:

2006 reflections of my father

2005 reflections of my mother

Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Past My Bedtime....

Sunny - Hi 106 Lo 81 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 101 Lo 65 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 74 Lo 52 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

There are some songs that just make you smile and cause you to sing along at full voice regardless of one's ability (in my case- definite inability). This song will pull me out of the worst of moods... it will elevate an already good mood right into the stratosphere. And the song, once heard will stay with me the entire day. This song causes people to smile when they hear it on the radio. It is a song of hope and love and caring and feeling secure and safe and having the knowledge that someone loves you so much they will do whatever it takes to protect you and keep you safe. This song sets a tone and is often used in movie soundtracks. I think my favorite has to be Remember The Titans-- I even like the scene in Stepmom... I'm so tired right now, I'm blanking on other movies... In any event, this song emotes my feelings for everyone I love and care for... especially Michael.


No ramble, it's 2:30 A.M. and I am winding down from a long day of cleaning and prepping for JoAnna's baby shower this afternoon. I still have a couple of things to do, but will have to wait until morning. In the meantime, as I type this, Michael is doing all the food prep for the shower (Note: I don't know how to cook). Anyway, go here if you would like to guess her due date. I swiped another pic from Rob's blog... This is the most recent picture of JoAnna-- August 30th.

Place your bets here.

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

I haven't checked out any new blogs in a very long time. In looking up information on Tammi Terrell, I stumbled across this little gem of a blog: Plain or Pan? Outdated Music for Outdated People -- Fun and quirky. I like how he will compare different versions of the same song...

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Listen, baby
Ain't no mountain high
Ain't no valley low
Ain't no river wide enough, baby

If you need me, call me
No matter where you are
No matter how far
Just call my name
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry

'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you

Remember the day
I set you free
I told you
You could always count on me
From that day on I made a vow
I'll be there when you want me
Some way, some how

'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you

No wind, no rain

My love is alive
Way down in my heart
Although we are miles apart
If you ever need a helping hand
I'll be there on the double
As fast as I can

Don't you know that
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you

Don't you know that
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough

Have a great week everyone!

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

A Life Remembered: Tom Burnett

Tom Burnett's name is probably one of the most recognized names of those that perished on September 11. Tom Burnett was a born leader and up until his last moments in this life, he continued to work the problem and never saw failure as an option that fateful day. There is little I can add to these accounts. His heroic actions have been documented in the 9/11 Commission Report, in movies, in documentaries, on countless websites and books. His wife, Deena keeps Tom's memory alive through the Tom Burnett Family Foundation. Tom often said that one of the most-noble pursuits in life is raising our children to be “good citizens.” The Tom Burnett Family Foundation is dedicated to helping young people in this country to become good citizens and future leaders, so his legacy will go continue.

On a personal note, everything I have read, everything that I have learned about this man, I would have liked him very much. He would have had my profound respect. I could see myself flying his flag at work and following his lead. He was a man of conviction, integrity and strong moral character. I would have loved working for a man of this caliber.

Born and raised in Bloomington, Minnesota, Tom attended public schools Ridgeview Elementary, Olson Middle School, and graduated with honors from Thomas Jefferson High School. Wearing number 11 in high school, Tom played quarterback for the Jefferson Jaguars and was recruited to play football by several universities and chose Saint John's University in Collegeville, Minnesota. He enjoyed the conversations and discourse with the Benedictine monks who lived there, and often said his experience provided incredible depth to his faith in God. After two years, an injury shortened his football career and he transferred to the Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota. He was named President of the Alpha Kappa Psi Fraternity, then later graduated with a B.S. degree in Finance. Working with Thoratec, a medical device company, he climbed the ladder to corporate success quickly. He received an M.B.A. degree from Pepperdine University and was making plans to work on his doctorate.

By 1989, he'd met Deena in Atlanta, where she'd just completed flight-attendant training for Delta Airlines. Their first date was at an Applebee's where they spent six hours talking. She knew she would marry him after he unscrewed the light bulb above the table and tossed it over his shoulder, shattering it on the floor. "I'm trying to create a mood here," he told her, "and this light's not helping." They married in April 1992 after a "romance in the air." Since Burnett traveled all week, the couple would meet in airports, or Deena would leave notes for him on planes. They agreed they were as comfortable in planes as they were in cars. But in 1995, when Deena was expecting, she stopped flying.

Years later, as senior vice president and chief operating officer of Thoratec Corp., known nationally for its creation of heart assist pumps, he was successful beyond his earlier dreams. Burnett would tell his wife, Deena, that he couldn't believe his achievements.

Articulate and competitive, a motivator who could talk a person into almost anything, Burnett was a born salesman. While he couldn't talk his mother into letting him fish from the edge of a dock as a 3-year-old, he did persuade her to let him sit in the middle of it and drop his line through the cracks.

Burnett entered fatherhood on his own terms. He liked pushing their three girls around the neighborhood in the stroller, but only while smoking a cigar. Diapers, baths and feeding were on an as-needed basis.

For all his traveling, Burnett was cautious. Long wanting to parachute, he backed out when the chance came, worrying about his family. And when the two of them left for a vacation, he insisted they take separate planes so an accident wouldn't leave the children parentless.

By Deena’s own telling, her husband of nine years thought of himself as anything but a hero. He was a man who, at thirty-eight, held a senior executive position at a respected medical device company headquartered in Pleasanton, California. He was a loving husband and father who adored his three young girls. He worked hard, was respected by his colleagues, and, on a daily basis, practiced quiet acts of integrity, honesty, respect, and kindness toward those with whom he came in contact.

“He was a man of heartfelt compassion, deep convictions, love, and had a keen sense of right and wrong, and he believed that morals and values were not debatable. To have died with such honor and valor is befitting of my husband.

“His actions, and those of his fellow passengers, are a call to each of us to stand for our beliefs and convictions,” Deena continued. “If he were here tonight, he would ask you to go one step further and to honor him by living a life worthy of those who have died for our freedom, and to remember that heroes can give their lives all at one time, or they can give a little each day.”

Tom lived his last minutes of life they way he had lived all the previous minutes. He knew what he and his fellow passengers were facing. Tom took the lead and organized the effort aboard United Flight 93. Allowing the terrorists to succeed was not an option. He and the passengers of Flight 93 died heroically. They thwarted the efforts of the bad guys. Yes, Tom Burnett was a citizen soldier.

6:27 a.m.( pacific time) First cell phone call from Tom to Deena

Deena: Hello
Tom: Deena
Deena: Tom, are you O.K.?
Tom: No, I’m not. I’m on an airplane that has been hijacked.
Deena: hijacked?
Tom: Yes, They just knifed a guy.
Deena: A passenger?
Tom: Yes.
Deena: Where are you? Are you in the air?
Tom: Yes, yes, just listen. Our airplane has been hijacked. It’s United Flight 93 from Newark to San Francisco. We are in the air. The hijackers have already knifed a guy, one of them has a gun, they are telling us there is a bomb on board, please call the authorities. He hung up.

6:31 Deena calls 911

6:34 The phone rang in on call waiting, Tom’s second cell phone call.

Deena: Hello
Tom: They’re in the cockpit. The guy they knifed is dead.
Deena: He’s dead?
Tom: Yes. I tried to help him, but I couldn’t get a pulse.
Deena: Tom, they are hijacking planes all up and down the east coast. They are taking them and hitting designated targets. They’ve already hit both towers of the World Trade Center.
Tom: They’re talking about crashing this plane. (a pause) Oh my God. It’s a suicide mission…(he then tells people sitting around him)
Deena: Who are you talking to?
Tom: My seatmate. Do you know which airline is involved?
Deena: No, they don’t know if they’re commercial airlines or not. The news reporters are speculating cargo planes, private planes and commercial. No one knows.
Tom: How many planes are there?
Deena: They’re not sure, at least three. Maybe more.
Tom: O.K….O.K….Do you know who is involved?
Deena: No.
Tom: We’re turning back toward New York. We’re going back to the World Trade Center. No, wait, we’re turning back the other way. We’re going south.
Deena: What do you see?
Tom: Just a minute, I’m looking. I don’t see anything, we’re over a rural area. It’s just fields. I’ve gotta go.
He hung up.

6:45 a.m. Third cell phone call from Tom to Deena

Tom: Deena
Deena: Tom, you’re O.K. (I thought at this point he had just survived the Pentagon plane crash).
Tom: No, I’m not.
Deena: They just hit the Pentagon.
Tom: (tells people sitting around him “They just hit the Pentagon.”)
Tom: O.K….O.K. What else can you tell me?
Deena: They think five airplanes have been hijacked. One is still on the ground. They believe all of them are commercial planes. I haven’t heard them say which airline, but all of them have originated on the east coast.
Tom: Do you know who is involved?
Deena: No
Tom: What is the probability of their having a bomb on board? I don’t think they have one. I think they’re just telling us that for crowd control.
Deena: A plane can survive a bomb if it’s in the right place.
Tom: Did you call the authorities?
Deena: Yes, they didn’t know anything about your plane.
Tom: They’re talking about crashing this plane into the ground. We have to do something. I’m putting a plan together.
Deena: Who’s helping you?
Tom: Different people. Several people. There’s a group of us. Don’t worry. I’ll call you back.

6:54 a.m. Fourth cell phone call to Tom to Deena

Deena: Tom?
Tom: Hi. Anything new?
Deena: No
Tom: Where are the kids?
Deena: They’re fine. They’re sitting at the table having breakfast. They’re asking to talk to you.
Tom: Tell them I’ll talk to them later
Deena: I called your parents. They know your plane has been hijacked.
Tom: Oh…you shouldn’t have worried them. How are they doing?
Deena: They’re O.K.. Mary and Martha are with them.
Tom: Good. (a long quiet pause) We’re waiting until we’re over a rural area. We’re going to take back the airplane.
Deena: No! Sit down, be still, be quiet, and don’t draw attention to yourself! (The exact words taught to me by Delta Airlines Flight Attendant Training).
Tom: Deena! If they’re going to crash this plane into the ground, we’re going to have do something!
Deena: What about the authorities?
Tom: We can’t wait for the authorities. I don’t know what they could do anyway.
It’s up to us. I think we can do it.
Deena: What do you want me to do?
Tom: Pray, Deena, just pray.
Deena: (after a long pause) I love you.
Tom: Don’t worry, we’re going to do something.
He hung up

"Don't worry, we're going to do something."- Tom Burnett

Thomas Edward Burnett Jr.
May 29, 1963 - September 11, 2001

Tom Burnett Family Foundation
Among the Heroes: United Flight 93 and the Passengers and Crew Who Fought Back, by Jere Longman
Post Gazette
September 11 Victims
Pepperdine University Press Release

Also for Project 2996:

from 2006 A Life Remembered: Marion Britton
from 2007 A Life Remembered: Deora Bodley