When my mother was a teenager, she lost her youngest Uncle, when the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor, his name was Charlie Petrone, and every Christmas Eve my mother played that song over and over, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” and she sat there and cried and talked about what a great person Uncle Charlie was, and she kept his memory alive every Christmas, that’s the reality of war. I will never forget that Uncle Charlie never made it home, and till this day every time I hear that song it reminds of my Uncle Charlie, I never got to meet.
Since 911, I personally stopped riding the subways in New York, and unless I really need too, then I will. The television news coverage about the terrorist has totally convinced me that the subways are the terrorists playground, and New York is a danger zone. The News coverage has convinced me that it’s not about if, it’s about when its going to happen, hopefully it won’t happen, but if it does, God be with us, and keep His Holy Angels charge over us and our loved ones.
Recently, my husband and I were flying back from Florida, and the pilot announced for everyone to buckle their seat-belts for landing-and then three men got up to use the bathroom at the same time, and stood up in front of the plane for quite sometime.
I started thinking, not good, they might be terrorist, not good, and then whispered to my husband, “If their terrorist they’re going down.” Well, being as it may, they were just three men with weak bladders. Trust me, I was whispering to my husband, “we have to take them down before they put the red bandana on their heads, and I wasn’t kidding. I was thinking of what I could use as a weapon against them, it was a horrible feeling. I don’t like flying. I don’t feel safe. People laugh when I tell them the story, but I’m serious.
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