We will not forget the victims or their families in the September 11th attack on America. We pray for strength for the rescue units whose seemingly endless jobs continue. May they all be rewarded with a reunited, safe, and peaceful nation.

God Bless America!

I AM THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer.

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped - I am saluted.
I am loved - I am revered.
I am respected - and I am feared.

I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy, Guam.
Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me, I was there.

I led my troops,
I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries
I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled on the
streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle - it hurts.
But I shall overcome - for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stood watch over the uncharted
frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded
comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at the grave
of their fallen son or daughter, I am proud.

MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
DEAR GOD - LONG MAY I WAVE.

By Howard Schnauber
Howard is a veteran of the war in the Pacific in WWII. For more see:
http://library.ci.fort-collins.co.us/local_history/Topics/WWII/hist3b15.htm

I received this by email from a friend:

The Lady

I wonder what she thought
As she stood there, strong and tall.
She couldn't turn away,
She was forced to watch it all.

Did she long to offer comfort
As her country bled?
With her arm forever frozen
High above her head.

She could not shield her eyes
She could not hide her face
She just stared across the water
Keeping Freedom's place.

The smell of smoke and terror
somehow reduced her size
So small within the harbor
But still we recognized...

How dignified and beautiful
On a day so many died
I wonder what she thought,
And I know she must have cried.

written by Dana Holland
Prestonburg Community College