Remember Pearl Harbor

There was a time when we as a nation were not so divided. Remember Pearl Harbor for those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Pearl Harbor Memorial

Lima Company Remembered This Thanksgiving

Scattered Showers - Hi 72 Lo 58 for Baghdad, Iraq
Mostly Sunny - Hi 74 Lo 40 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Partly Cloudy - Hi 50 Lo 35 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: We'll Meet Along the Way, HEM

Ramble:

Go get some coffee first... I have a lot to ramble about this week so bare with me.

This past week I traveled to Pascagoula, Mississippi via Louisville, Atlanta, and Gulfport. (There isn't a direct flight from Cincinnati to Gulfport... and Cincinnati airfare was over $900.00... travel 1 1/2 hours south to Louisville airfare is a little over $300.00... go figure.) The sunny skies were a welcome change although it was a tad chilly for southerners. The flight from Atlanta to Gulfport was humorous in the sense that a handful of pigeons not interested in the chilly climate in Atlanta decided to board our little commuter seeing this would be a much more efficient means of flying south. Too funny... After shooing the pigeons out of the jet, our flight attendant as described by one of my travel mates was no doubt someone who won a law suit with the airlines and was most likely a girls physical education teacher in a previous career... definitely not your stereotypical flight attendant. Prior to take off she broke the cable on the door so we sat and waited for it to be repaired.

Now our trip home from Gulfport to Atlanta was smooth sailing until smoke filled the cabin of the commuter. The pilot's voice came over the intercom stating something to the effect that he had shut off the air conditioning unit... 2 seats ahead of me was a pilot catching a ride home and he and the flight attendant were chatting with a great deal of enthusiasm to the pilot in the cockpit... Once we landed and began to taxi it felt as if we were going to take off again... the pilot floored it and hauled @$$ to the terminal. We pulled up --sort of-- to a terminal... this time the pilot calmly stated, "please quickly gather your belongings and exit the plane quickly and calmly." Nice. I was in row 3 and was off the plane and on the tarmac where I saw one of the engines smoking... good times.

We stayed at the Beau Rivage in Biloxi- a very nice casino and resort on the gulf. You may remember Jim Cantore standing in front of the Beau Rivage reporting on Hurricane Katrina. The Hard Rock Cafe Casino and Resort was next door under construction. Needless to say, after Katrina... the Hard Rock was gone and the Beau Rivage was in bad shape. The last time I saw the Beau Rivage all the windows had been blown out, part of it was missing. It has been a while since I was last down here, still a lot of devastation, but the rebuilding continues. The picture to the left was taken with my cell phone, so it is pretty poor quality. You can see the top of the neck of the Hard Rock guitar in the lower left... But that sunrise was spectacular. The only thing that was missing was my better half.

Besides the meeting we had with our customer, (and returning home safely) the most important part of the trip for me was seeing all the men and women in uniform. Every flight we had included active duty servicemen. All were heading overseas. I can't tell you how humbling it is to see these young men and women preparing themselves. This time of year we are all busy with thoughts of the holidays... the hustle and bustle. Take a moment to remember them. They are off to be in harms way.

So with thoughts of the men and women I saw in the airports earlier in the week. On Thursday, after I was back home safe and sound and since I had the day off, I went to Union Terminal to see the Lima Company Memorial. Words can not express how moving this memorial is.

The faces of the young men were absolute perfection. Anita Miller, the inspired artist, captured the spirit of each of the young bright eyed men. I was captivated by each one. I can not express adequately what it was like to stand there. The portraits form a circle. To look at the portraits you must enter that circle and you are then surrounded by these men. Even though these are paintings of the men, there is a sense of safety in that perimeter, a sense of camaraderie between those men that we mere civilians will never comprehend. In front of each portrait are the actual combat boots of the young man that wore them. The families provided the boots and I must tell you that was probably the toughest part of this exhibit. On the outer perimeter of the circle are the names of each young man, their age, their rank, their hometown. There are flowers, letters and other memorabilia left by loved ones allowing those of us not lucky to have known them in life an opportunity to capture a glimpse of what they were, who they were.

Here are the photos... the lighting was not optimal, but I hope you gather a sense of what it was like to stand in the middle of these fallen heroes.

Anita Miller was able to capture the spark of each young man. They were alive and popped off the canvas, the personal items added to this. I was there pretty much by myself and spent about two hours looking at the paintings and reading the letters and cards and looking at the scrapbooks and photos. To the families and loved ones of these young men lost three years ago, my heart and prayers go out to you. The sacrifice you have endured is more than I can imagine. I thank you for raising sons that felt such a calling must be answered. I thank the wives and fiances and girlfriends for loving these young men. I thank the siblings and cousins and friends and all those that were touched by these fine men. My heart goes to the children of these men. Your father was a hero and I am so sorry you will only know him through the pictures and stories you are told.

Semper Gratus.

Click on each photo to enlarge.

Eric Bernholz, Dustin Derga, and Nick Erdy

Dustin

Nick's Boots

Nick

Tim Bell, Justin Hoffman, and Nicholas Bloem


William Wightman, Augie Schroeder, and Grant Fraser
The following was read at Grant's eulogy. Grant was not from the state of Ohio, but from Alaska. It is quite moving and gives a you a glimpse of the man and how he was seen by those that loved him.
Chris Dixon, Travis Youngblood, and Wesley Davids

Recollections of Chris

Wesley was from California. Below is a photocopy of the letter he penned in the event he was killed. Although profoundly personal, his family thought it was important enough to share. To be so young and to be so brave, to understand what his calling was... to be able to share these thoughts so clearly with his loved ones...


Wes
Andre Williams, Michael Cifuentes, and David Kreuter


Andre's Mom took a shirt he wore and made this frame. The shirt was starting to wear out on the back. So personal. I wept when I touched it.



Kendall Ivy, David Wimberg, and Jonathan Grant
Jourdan Grez, Chris Dyer, and Aaron Reed


Chris was from Cincinnati. I was privileged to shake his father's hand
Anthony Goodwin and Chris Lyons


So this Thursday, as we sit down with our families, some more dysfunctional than others. Be kind to each other (unless it is your flaming lib Aunt who just won't shut up). Thank God for blessing us for being born in a country where we are free and can choose our own path in life. Take a moment as you are saying the blessing or toasting each other to say a prayer or raise a glass to these men from Lima Company. There are others there today that have also answered the calling. Say a prayer for them too.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

A Life Remembered: Toshiya Kuge

For three years, D.C. Roe has hosted an annual remembrance of those lost on September 11, 2001. Please click on the logo to the left for a link to other remembrances this year.
*** *** *** *** ***

Long ago there lived in Japan an old man whose name was Hamaguchi. His farmhouse stood on the edge of a plateau, a flat, open space on the side of a mountain. Behind, the mountain rose in lofty wooded peaks. In front, it sloped gently down to the sea. At the foot of the mountain along the shore was the little village, made up of a hundred or more thatched houses and a great temple.

One afternoon in late summer Hamaguchi sat on the balcony of his house and watched the people in the village below. With him was his grandson, a lad of ten. The rice crop had been very fine, and the villagers were holding their harvest festival. All the shops were closed, and the streets were gayly decorated with ropes of straw and paper lanterns. The villagers in bright-colored clothing were about to join in the harvest dance.

Beyond the village Hamaguchi could see the vast blue sea, wrinkling under the bright after noon sun. Suddenly there came a slight shock. The house rocked three or four times and then stood still. Hamaguchi had felt many earth quakes in his time, and he was not at all frightened until he looked toward the sea.

The water had become dark green and very rough. The tide had suddenly changed --- the sea was running swiftly away from the land! The villagers stopped their dancing, and ran to the shore to watch. None of them knew what this strange thing meant. But the old man on the mountain had seen one such sight as a little child. He knew what the sea would do. There was no time to send a message to the village, nor to ring the big bell in the temple, and yet the people must be warned.

"Yone!" he called to his little grandson. "Light a torch! Quick!"

The boy was puzzled, but he asked no questions. He kindled the torch at once. The old man ran to the fields, where hundreds of rice stacks stood awaiting sale. It was all his wealth. He ran from one stack to another, applying the torch to each. The dry stalks caught fire quickly, and soon the red flames were shooting upward, and the smoke was rising in great columns to join the wind clouds in the sky.

Yone ran after his grandfather, shouting and crying, "Grandfather! Grandfather! Why? Why are you setting fire to the rice?"

The old man had no time to answer, but ran on, firing stack after stack. The high wind caught the sparks and loose brands and carried them farther, until the fields were all ablaze.

The watcher in the temple saw the fire, and set the big bell booming, and the people turned from the sea to look. In Japan every one in the village must give help in time of fire. No sooner did the people see that Hamaguchi's rice stacks were on fire than they began to run. Like a swarm of ants they climbed the mountain --- young men and boys, women and girls, old folk, mothers with babies on their backs, even little children joined in the race to put out the fire.

But when they reached the plateau, it was too late. The flames had already eaten the stacks of beautiful rice.

"It is too bad," the people exclaimed. "How did it happen?"

"Grandfather did it," cried Yone. "With a torch he set fire to the rice. He is mad."

In amazement the people stared at Hamaguchi. "You did this thing !" they cried. "You set fire to the rice fields! "

"Look toward the sea," said the old man, "and know my purpose."

The people turned and looked. Far out they saw a great wall of water sweeping toward them more swiftly than a bird flies. It was the returning sea!

The people shrieked, but their voices were lost in a great sound, deeper than thunder, as the wall of water struck the side of the mountain. The hills shook, and were drenched in a great burst of foam.

When the cloud of spray had disappeared, the people saw a wild sea raving over their village. Great angry waves seethed and tumbled above the house-tops. They rolled away roaring, tearing out houses and trees and great rocks, and bearing them off. Again the wall of water struck, and again and again, with less force each time. At last it fell back once more in its former bed.

The people stood speechless on the side of the mountain. The village was gone; the temple was gone; the fields had been torn away. Nothing was left of their homes but a few straw roofs that floated on the water. But every man and woman and child was safe on the mountain side.

Then the people knew why old Hamaguchi had set fire to the rice. There he stood among them, as poor as any. And they fell on their knees to thank him.

As a little girl-- maybe 3 or 4 years old, I recall my mother telling me Japanese fables and folk stories-- This one and a story about the Little Peachboy are the two I remember the most. I thought this story of sacrifice fitting to share what little I have been able to learn about a young man named Toshiya Kuge.

Toshiya Kuge-san was born in 1981. His parents, Hajime and Yachiyo Kuge must have been proud of their son. He graduated in 1999 from Kitano High School. While in high school he was a good student and was the goalie for his high school soccer team. However, his preference was American football and was a linebacker his freshman year at Waseda University wearing a maroon jersey with number ninety-five. He loved the National Football League and would watch football via satellite in the middle of the night in Japan. He had a poster of the San Francisco 49ers on his bedroom wall, but his favorite team was the Pittsburgh Steelers.

He was in his sophomore year at the prestigious Waseda University studying design and creation of materials at the School of Science and Engineering. In the spring of 2001 he attended an intensive 4 week class at the University of Utah to improve his English speaking and writing skills. In an essay for this class he wrote, "he wanted to be friends with people and to study in America."

After his time at the University of Utah, Toshiya went home to Toyonaka City to spend the summer with family and friends before coming back in August 2001 to the United States and Canada- part vacation - part preparation-- Vacation was to go to whale watching, horseback riding and rafting at Jasper National Park-- Preparation was for his goal to scout out a university for his graduate degree. Among the items he took on this trip was his Pittsburgh Steelers jersey.

"He longed to come to America, " said Toshiya's mother,Yachiyo Kuge. "Perhaps he liked the freedom. He loved the language and the music. And sports. He wanted to play sports there."

From the few accounts I have been able to locate, he was friendly and outgoing with all he encountered. He wanted to visit Niagara Falls from both the Canadian and American sides. He had a passion for the big outdoors. On his rafting trip to Jasper he befriended and shared a lunch with two women from Chicago- Kristine White and Debbie Schiies.

On that fateful day, September 11, 2001 Kuge-san was on his way home to go back to school at Waseda. Instead, he and the other brave souls aboard United Flight 93 lost their lives in an attempt to take back their hijacked plane. This young man- his entire life ahead of him stolen and gone in an instant by haters of freedom and liberty. We will never have the good fortune of knowing what this young man could have contributed to our lives---.

In April 2004, Toshiya Kuge was recognized by Professor Shirai, President of Waseda University and was awarded the status of Alumna.

It is important to remember that Americans were not the only souls lost on that dreadful day- 234 people from other countries are counted in the numbers... from those 234 foreigners, 24 were from Japan.

So, I share this fable about the burning rice fields with you--- Although profoundly sad, it is a story of sacrifice and a keen understanding of a greater good. I want to believe--- I need to believe that the men and women who lost their lives that awful day were not in vain, but stand over us as guardian angels to remind us to stay vigilant and to never forget and never ever allow this to happen again.

A Life Remembered,

Toshiya Kuge
1981 - 2001







My Other Tributes:

2006 - Marion Britton
2007 - Tom Burnett
2007 - Deora Bodley

Resources:

Japan Times
Ongoing Tales
Among the Heroes - United Flight 93 and the Passengers and Crew Who Fought Back, by Jere Longman
Legacy.com
Waseda University article
Daylife.com
Post-Gazette
Find a Grave

Project 2996

D.C. Roe is again hosting a day of remembrance at Project 2996.

He has added this beautiful Coat of Arms.

When I decided that Project2996 needed some sort of logo I wanted something a little more dignified than a standard graphic design. I've been a fan of heraldry for many years, and recently have become an student of the field, it seemed a natural fit.

The poppy is a flower that has long been associated with remembrance (including a longtime link with WWI veterans). The four stars above the poppy represent the four planes and four crash sites of 9/11. The coloring scheme where the shiled is divided into two colors with the charges inverted is called counterchanging, and is used to represent the stark change our country and world went through.

If you have time, write a tribute or link a tribute you have done in the past. But whatever you do, take a moment to read a few tributes and remember what we all lost seven years ago.

In Memory, Matt Maupin

We know he isn't in pain, he isn't being tortured anymore. He no longer has to be afraid. Matt has done his duty... he has paid the ultimate price. He has served his country and we must not forget him.

The sad news came yesterday that Matt's remains were found. My prayers and thoughts go to Keith and Caroloyn Maupin and all the friends and family that loved and knew Matt.

He will be home soon.



On April 9, 2008 there will be a scholarship fund raiser-- Let us never forget. For more information please visit the Yellow Ribbon Support Center.

Associated Press article

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

Sources:
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
Legacy.com
Pepperdine University Press Release


Also for Project 2996:

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

A Life Remembered: Deora Bodley

I have volunteered for a second year to write a memorial for Project 2996. Like last year I wanted to remember the heroes from United Flight 93. Dale left it up to each person that volunteered to pick a name(s) of our choice. I chose 2 names from Flight 93 that did not receive a memorial last year.

I first read about Deora Bodley in Jere Longman's book, Among the Heroes. She was an idealistic 20 year old. She was the youngest passenger aboard United Flight 93 and was heading back to California, back to her junior year at Santa Clara University when her life was tragically ended despite the courageous acts of her fellow passengers and crew.

At the tender age of eleven she wrote, "People ask how, what, where, when and why. I ask peace." When I read those words, I remembered what it was like to be a child and have everything as a possibility. I remember thinking I could make a difference and the world could be a better place. At the age of eleven or even twenty there are no boundaries there are only opportunities. That is how this young woman lived her short precious life.

By coincidence, Deora and I share a birthday. She was born on April 8, 1981 to loving parents, Deborah (Bodley) Borza and Derrill Bodley. Her parents divorced when Deora was only two years old. This possibly contributed to her being introspective and wanting to help others. She was active in school, captain of the basketball team her senior year in high school, she participated in an AIDS peer program, and volunteered with the Special Olympics and at her local animal shelter.

As a twenty year old, she wanted a world without war and disease. She lived her life focused on making a contribution to this dream. Her love of writing and her ability to speak fluently in French, contributed to her success while she attended Santa Clara University and participated in America Reads program tutoring children with reading and writing. One of the children wrote, "Deora made the sun shine brighter." She made it a point to help children whenever possible as she did for a pair of Vietnamese twins in the literacy program that came from Toronto. She translated stories from English to French for them. It was obvious Deora had a natural gift in working with children. Her major in college was Psychology and her goal was to become a child psychologist.

Deora was a wide eyed young woman. The world was her oyster. She loved her family and friends and there is no doubt that they love and miss her still. Her life lives on in those she loved and the lives she touched.

"If I would just live for the moment and make every moment count, maybe the future would work out. Maybe that moment would be a doorway to the future." - Deora Bodley, age 13














Deora Frances Bodley
April 8, 1981 - September 11, 2001

Sources:
Among the Heroes: United Flight 93 and the Passengers and Crew Who Fought Back, by Jere Longman
Post Gazette
SFBA Flight 93 Memorial
findagrave
Legacy.com
Deora's Candles - features a jazz composition written by her father Derrill Bodley, who passed away in September 2005. Steps to Peace, a song he composed right after Deora's death was later recorded by Dave Brubeck.

Also for Project 2996:

from 2006 A Life Remembered: Marion Britton
from 2007 A Life Remembered: Tom Burnett

A Quiet Sunday

Sunny - Hi 114 Lo 86 for Baghdad, Iraq
Morning Rain - Hi 103 Lo 71 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Partly Cloudy - Hi 95 Lo 72 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: I Want You To Be My Love, Over the Rhine

I am smitten with this duo, Over the Rhine. Not because they formed in my hometown of Cincinnati or even because they named themselves after a historic (and sadly run down) part of the city, but because they are talented. This song is sweet and melodic and comforting. The indie video I found goes hand in hand. I hope you enjoy it.

Ramble:

I don't have the heart to write this week... enjoy your Sunday, have some coffee and listen to my music selection.

...and to all the wonderful fathers out there... Happy Father's Day.

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

I try to visit LindaSog at Something and Half of Something a few times of week. She loves Marines almost as much as me...

Anyway, she put up a link that held me captivated for a good solid hour the other night. It is a tribute to Army Corporal Chris Mason. Chris' father sent an email....

I miss Chris today, more then ever; I was riding my bike and found tears running
down my face. I love my son, but he loved freedom more then he loved life it's
self.

Here is a link to Chris' MySpace that has been lovingly cared for by his father. I encourage you to watch all the videos... It is a reminder that on this day- we have sons and fathers in harms way... and we have sons and fathers waiting for loved ones in harms way to come home safe. Please, go, go now.

Lastly, in the next few days I'll be posting an intense piece written by my Italian buddy, Carlo at I Diavoli Neri. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the words.

Happy Father's Day and Have a great week everyone!

A Sailor's Prayer, Chief Petty Officer, Greg Billiter

Sunny - Hi 104 Lo 75 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 71 Lo 46 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Driver 8, R.E.M.

I always seem to find myself listening to R.E.M. on rainy days-- usually when I'm feeling a little blue. Older R.E.M. always seems to have a feel of yearning... a sadness that can not quite be identified... but it's there...just below the surface. Well, it wasn't raining when I selected this song, but I realized I neglected to post about one of our hometown heroes...

Ramble:

This past month we lost another local hero. He was a career sailor (or so it seemed spending 15 years with the United States Navy). I did not attend but thankfully, my friend Kyle went. And I didn't know this until recently but my Mother In Law also attended the service. This 36 year old man, husband, father, son, grandson... was part of the life of a dear friend of my mother in law. Both of Kyle and Patricia paid their respect and said a prayer for this hero that gave the ultimate sacrifice.

"During his first two tours of duty, Billiter dived for mines off the coast of Iraq. This (third) time he was the tactical commander in a convoy conducting patrols in Iraq when the vehicle he was in was struck by a rocket, Beck said. Billiter was severely injured and evacuated by a medical helicopter. He was later pronounced killed in action."

The rest of the article can be found here.

The thing is, Greg was doing what he wanted to do," Barry Billiter said. It was his life's work. He believed he was making a difference doing what he was doing.

How can you argue with that?

The rest of the article can be found here.

Greg, who his father said, saw himself as a peacemaker, would often talk about the positive things our troops are doing for the Iraqi people.

"There were roads being built," said Barry Billiter. "Schools built or refurbished, things of that nature."

Pat Billiter says Greg recently told her," I'm not making war. I'm making peace. By neutralizing bombs, I'm giving some people peace that might not know it otherwise."

The rest can be read here.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God."

Washington Post.

"On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to this Country and a grateful Navy."

Here is a link to photos from the Patriot Guard Riders in attendance at Chief Petty Officer Billiter's funeral service.

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

If you visit one link... visit this one. It is Beliefnet. There you will find prayer circles for our men and women in uniform--- those in harms way. Say a prayer... put faces with those names. Click on each name--- take a good close look at that young man or woman that is keeping watch for us. Go... please... go now.

You Tube ~ R.E.M. Channel



Driver 8, R.E.M.

The walls are built up, stone by stone,
the fields divided one by one.
And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We've been on this shift too long"

And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but we're still a ways away"

I saw a tree house on the outskirts of the farm.
The power lines have floaters so the airplanes won't get snagged.
Bells are ringing through the town again,
Children look up, all they hear is sky-blue, bells ringing

And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but we're still a ways away"

Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself to sleep.
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself, my children to sleep.

He piloted this song in a plane like that one.
She is selling faith on the Go Tell crusade.
Locomotive 8, Southern Crescent, hear the bells ring again.
Field to weed is lookin' thin

And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We've been on this shift too long."
And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but we're still a ways away"


Have a great week everyone!

A Marine's Prayer, Lance Corporal William D. Spencer

My pal Kyle brought the following press release to my attention to those in the Cincinnati, Tri State area. If you are able to show support for the family and pay final respect to a fallen Marine.... please read on....

IMMEDIATE IMPORTANT INFORMATION RELEASE

Subject schedule and events of Lance Cpl. William D. Spencer USMC causality of war from Iraq.

Lance Cpl. Spencer will arrive at Lunken Airfield Cincinnati Ohio Friday January 5, 2007 aboard military aircraft. US. Marines will be escorting him homeward in a parade at: 0900 – 1200 specific times will follow within a short time.

Military Parade Homeward route will be as follows:

Lunken Airport
Route 50 thru (Fairfax, Mariemont, Terrace Park, Milford) to Five Points in Milford. Left North onto State Route 28 onto OLD State Route 28 thru Miami Township Turning Left onto Branch Hill Guinea Pike thru the township to Right onto Loveland Madeira Rd. into Loveland onto W. Loveland Ave turning left onto Riverside Dr. at the Loveland Veteran’s Memorial Park into Tufts Schildmeyer Family Funeral Home where Lance Cpl. Spencer will lay in state for a public visitation Friday January 5, 2007 (2:00pm – 9:00pm)

Public Military Honor Funeral Services will be held at Milford High School Auditorium Theater on Eagle’s Way off of State Route 131 in Milford will be held Saturday January 6, 2007 at 11:00am.

Procession/ Parade to Arlington Memorial Gardens in Mt. Healthy, Ohio will follow the services at the school where the procession route will be State Route 131 to Milford Pkwy to Interstate 275 to Interstate 71 south to Ronald Reagan Hwy west to Hamilton Ave to Compton Rd. into the gate of Arlington. Full military burial services will be performed at Arlington Memorial Garden for Lance Cpl. Spencer where he will be laid to rest.

Unfortunately, I will only be on the route in spirit because of another commitment. Please keep the family of this Marine in your prayers.

A Marine's Prayer

Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones, and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family.

Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my Country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold.

If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again.

Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer.

Related: Journal News -"He didn't go alone."

Noel Melton, one of Spencer's best friends from elementary school, and one of
the six from Paris, Tenn., who enlisted in the Marines and volunteered to serve
in Iraq, held Spencer's hand as he died.

A Life Remembered: Marion Britton

My Lord, what a morning

My Lord, what a morning!
My Lord, what a morning!
O my Lord, what a morning!
When the stars begin to fall.

You'll hear a sinner mourn,
To wake the nations underground,
Looking to my God's right hand,
When the stars begin to fall.

Refrain

You'll hear a sinner pray,
To wake the nations underground,
Looking to my God's right hand,
When the stars begin to fall.

Refrain

You'll hear a Christian shout,
To wake the nations underground,
Looking to my God’s right hand,
When the stars begin to fall.

Refrain

You'll hear a Christian sing,
To wake the nations underground,
Looking to my God’s right hand,
When the stars begin to fall.

I volunteered to write a tribute for DCRoe honoring and memorializing the lives of those lost on September 11, 2001. For my own personal reasons, my only request to DC was to pay tribute to one of the heroes from United Flight 93. From there, I was randomly assigned Marion Ruth Britton.

Like most volunteers, I knew absolutely nothing about this person. Like all the tributes prior to 2996 - Marion was nothing more than a name on a long list. But, after researching and finding bits and pieces that gave hints to what she was really about, I soon realized that I wish I had known Marion while she was alive. Her brother was quoted in one interview as saying, "She could use stinging language and she'd let you know if she thought you were wrong. She could be bitchy - I was the brunt of it for many years, but she did it for your own good. She was kind-hearted and truthful, and you always knew where you stood."

Marion could be bitchy! Her brother, a reverend, said that! When I read those words, I laughed out loud - we were part of the same sisterhood! She at last had become more than a name on a long sad awful list.

The daughter of a New York City Police officer, Marion Ruth Britton was born on April 28, 1948. She grew up in South Ozone Park a neighborhood in southwestern Queens and on the border of Brooklyn. The neighborhoods that surrounded her no doubt added to the colorful tapestry that became Marion's personality. She graduated from John Adams High School in 1965- a year filled with hopes and dreams, goals and ambitions of a wide eyed seventeen year old. And of course wonderful music such as The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, The Supremes, and The Tempations set the soundtrack for this exciting time in Marion's life.

After working various jobs as a bookkeeper, Marion took a position with the Census Bureau as a Field Operations Assistant. Marion would trudge happily door to door asking quesions. Marion was always looking for an opportunity to tell a story and her early years working with the Census Bureau gave her plenty of material. Some of the more memorable interviewees included inmates at Rikers Island Correctional Facility. Marion's brother was quoted as saying, "One time she talked to a man who was a convicted murderer, and he could talk about murdering like someone else talked about selling groceries. He had these dead eyes in his head. Murdering was what he did for a living."

On a number of occasions, Marion would knock on a door and the person would answer the door stark naked. Again her brother said, "She figured that if that's the way they answered the door, that's the way they felt comfortable around the house, answering questions." So, Marion would conduct the questionaire taking particular care to always maintain eye contact.

On many other occasions Marion would knock on the door of a family in need. She would do the interview, but would make her way back to that home with much needed groceries or clothing in tow.

Marion was devoted to her job to the point of being a workaholic. Marion had a love/hate relationship with her job. She loved what she did, she loved the folks she worked with, but she would grow weary and sometimes frustrated with the bureacracy of working for the federal government. Marion worked long hours and weekends to get the job done. Her attention to detail, stubborness and tenacity led to several promotions and despite her frustrations, her superiors saw how valuable Marion was. She spent 21 years with the Census Bureau ending her carreer as an Assistant Regional Director for the New York Office.

On Tuesday, October 2, 2001 the Honorable Dan Miller of Florida on the House of Representatives reported: [...]"During her career with the Census Bureau, Ms. Britton earned several major honors and awards for her outstanding managerial and technical skills and innovative contritubutions. She received the Census Award of Excellence in 1988, the Bronze Medal Award, the highest honorary award granted by the Census Bureau, in 1993, and the National Partnership for Reinventing Government's "Hammer Award" in 1999 for her work on the American Community Survey."

Marion never married and it was no doubt because she was a workaholic as was told by her brother. Instead, she was devoted to her family and friends and this was expressed in how she lived her life.

When Marion found herself with free time she would scout for good restaurants. She organized breakfast gatherings for her co-workers, her friends. She would travel quite a distance to find the perfect restaurant for her dining group. Whenever she traveled away from her beloved city, she would always take a piece of New York City with her, typically New York City bagels. Marion's brother Paul said, "She wanted people to know that the best bagels came from New York and she wanted them to see what they were missing out on."

Marion's nephew as a little boy referred to her as his "fairy godmother". "On any holiday. Marion was like a bag lady, pulling out gifts that were precious and something delicious - Italian or German pastries or New York cheesecakes she'd bring along."

Marion always paid attention to the details. She was the family historian. Every night at 11 o'clock she and her friend Midge would share a phone call for their "nightly chat". She would travel to obscure punk music shops to pick up a CD for her nephew because that was what he enjoyed. She collected teddy bears and dolls. She never forgot a birthday or an anniversary. She always made sure you had food in your belly and left with a smile.

Marion was on United Flight 93. She was one of the many heroes that died while thwarting the plans of the hijackers. She and the other passengers and crew took the plane back from the hijackers and no doubt saved the lives of those on the ground.

Marion was a big, robust, wonderful woman with an even bigger heart to match. She could be sharp tongued and sarcastic and blunt and yes, she could even be bitchy. But she was generous and kind and she loved a good joke, and she loved to tell a good story and she loved to laugh.

Marion lived her life. It was a good life too.



Marion Ruth Britton
1948 - 2001

Sources:
Post-Gazette
Legacy.com
Census.gov
cf.newsday
Avalon Project
Library of Congress
Peacebarn
John Adams High School
United Flight 93 & the Passengers & Crew Who Fought Back: Among the Heroes by Jere Longman

Thank you goes out to Rob for the stroke of genius on the song selection, Wandering Author for helping me with some fact finding and Michael for understanding how important this was to me.

Finally, I'd like to thank Dale for creating and organizing this tribute. All the hours he and his friends that volunteered to keep this organized was a huge undertaking. This has been an incredible experience.

Please go read more tributes here: 2996

Remembering 2996

* last updated 9/26/06

I want to thank everyone that has done a tribute. As I read through them, it is so apparent that this has become a labor of love. I will update and add links to this post of those I find especially moving.

**Lester Vincent Marino has been remembered by Ben and Noah- these bright, cute, little guys are 6 and 4 years old. Noah's tribute here and Ben's tribute here. To echo Dale, this one will make you cry. #343
** Lieutenant William McGinn is remembered by Simply Left Behind
** Firefighter Francis Esposito is remembered by The Unending Journey of the Wandering Author
** Eight Year Old Zoe Falkenberg is remembered by Volcanic Sacrifices
** Donna Wilson is remembered by Celebration of My Existence
** Terrence E. Adderly is remembered by Plancks Constant
** Welles Remy Crowther is remembered by Smooth Stone

Also, as I read them, I will be linking to all the tributes for the passengers and crew of United Flight 93.
* Flight Attendant, Cee Cee Lyles remembered by WardWideWeb
* Passenger, Mark Bingham remembered by Whispering from the Wings
* Passenger, Joseph DeLuca remembered by Kristonia Ink
* Flight Attendant, Lorraine Bay remembered by Blonde Sagacity


Here is a link to the blogroll for all participants.

DCRoe will be doing this again in 2007, he has the website set up already--Project 2996

2996 Blogroll

Nickie Remembered

I just found out that one of my favorite bloggers passed away- Nickie Goomba.

I would visit his blog every day... sometimes I would leave a comment, most of the time I would just laugh... He was so funny!! If I left a comment, he was always polite and responded with a little note for me... a wink and a nod-- but of course he did that consistently for anyone that visited his blog... He always responded to email and even helped me once with a technical issue I was having with my blog...

Because of Nickie, I was fortunate enough to become friends with some wonderful Italian bloggers--my eyes were opened to a world view of America. Once, he helped me translate an email from an Italian blogger.... My new found appreciation for Italy and all things Italian goes to Mr. Goomba.

Nickie was one of the good guys....

I will miss him.

Tonight Michael and I will raise a glass and toast Nickie's name and remember our friend.

Go visit DC. The friendship Daisy Cutter and Nickie had was so apparent to anyone that read either blog .... DC's tribute to his friend confirms that.

Arrivederci Caro Mio!

Soldier Memorial

Thanks to Mr. Goomba I made my way over to Sactodan's place...



"The statue was created by an Iraqi artist named Kalat, who for years was forced by Saddam Hussein to make the many hundreds of bronze busts of Saddam that dotted Baghdad.

Kalat was so grateful for the Americans liberation of his country; he melted 3 of the heads of the fallen Saddam and made the statue as a memorial to the American soldiers and their fallen warriors. Kalat worked on this memorial night and day for several months."

For more...