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If I go away What would still remain of me? The ghost within your eyes? The whisper in your sighs? You see... Believe, and I'm always there. ~ by Jon Oliva ~ An Open Letter to the Terrorists Well, you hit the World Trade Center, but you missed America.  You hit the Pentagon, but you missed America. Why? Because America isn't about a building or two America isn't about a place. America is about an IDEA: An idea that you can go someplace where you can earn as much as you can figure out how to, live for the most part like you envision living, and pursue Happiness. (No guarantees that you'll reach it, but you can sure try!) We live in a country where we don't have to see your point.  But you're free to have one.  We don't have to listen to your speech.  But you're free to give one. There's a spirit that tends to take over people who come to this country looking for opportunity, looking for freedom, even if they misuse it.  We don't live in America, America lives in US!  American Spirit is what it's called.    It's a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of Spirit, BUT also very generous and caring.  When we see abused people, we are eager to help even at great expense to ourselves. To the oppressed everywhere we say, "Wait till you see what we do with that American Spirit. We want to help and we're coming!" Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow; I am diamond glints of snow; I am the sunlight on ripened grain; I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush; I am the swift uplifting rush   of quiet birds encircled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die. They say Memories are golden; Well, maybe that is true. I never wanted memories I only wanted you. A million times I've needed you, A million times I've cried. If my love could have saved you, You never would have died. In life I loved you dearly. In death I love you still. In my heart you hold a place No one can ever fill. If tears could build a stairway And heartache make a lane, I'd walk a path to heaven And bring you back again. Our family chain is broken, And nothing seems the same, But as God calls us one by one, The chain will link again.   page created with Webpage Designer (NS)