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Editorial: Air Boats and the Golden Rule
February 2nd, 2004

Editorial: A Year of Opportunity
January 24th, 2004

Editorial: Sports on TV
January 15th, 2004

Editorial: Mad Cow Disease in the US
December 26th, 2003

Editorial: Jeb`s Water War
November 25th, 2003

Editorial: Citizen Input Needed
October 27th, 2003

Editorial: Congrats to Our Commission, Now We Must Help
October 17th, 2003

Editorial: Remember Owens Valley
September 29th, 2003

Editorial: Gold Plating Reality, Reconstruction Chic
September 21st, 2003

Editorial: The Responsiblities of a Journalist
August 27th, 2003

Editorial: A Fable: The Great Guano Concord
July 24th, 2003

Editorial: Music for Children
May 26th, 2003

Editorial: Speak Out
May 15th, 2003

Editorial: Parking: Our Biggest Problem?
May 2nd, 2003

Editorial: Vote and Vote Well
April 22nd, 2003

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Guest Editorial: Never Forget

Guest Editorial: Never Forget

Guest Author

Bin Laden`s death was a time for reflection.


By Bobby McCabe


The newscaster made an announcement that the president would speak to the nation within the hour about a topic of great importance. I was immediately gripped with a sense of dread. Sunday night, the late hour, I worried the news might be bad. Before long, news leaked that Osama bin Laden was dead and had been killed by American forces.


My feeling of anxiety was replaced by a sense of relief that a terrible force of evil had been eliminated and could do no more harm. Much past that, my reactions were subdued.

I had been among the rescue workers at the World Trade Center in the days following the September 11th attack and was exposed to unimaginable heart ache. Having spent four days at the site and at a firehouse in mid town, I quickly learned to keep my emotions in check.

When I was there, I met and spoke to people who had very good reason to be desperately sad and angry because they had lost friends and family. My friend and fellow Hillsborough County firefighter Brian Muldowney was hoping beyond hope to find his New York fire fighter brother Richie alive in the ruins of the south tower. In the evening when we returned to the firehouse after digging all day, an exhausted Brian would often sit at the kitchen table hug and cry with Richie`s buddies who in their hearts knew there was really no hope.

I listened to Rosemary Cain tell stories about the "guys." Her son George was last seen with Richie and other members of Ladder 7 entering the south tower. I watched a mountain of a FDNY lieutenant walk to a corner of the firehouse and sob. As he leaned his head against a wall his shoulders shook up and down as he was overcome with grief.

Even though there was more than enough reason to cry or be openly incensed by the event, I was just an observer. My family was home safe and I really had no right or reason. I kind of felt the same way on Sunday evening. Brian, Rosemary and the thousands of others who were directly affected by the tragedy were the ones that could openly rejoice. I just sat there and remembered, admired the courage of our service men and women and quietly cried. For some reason I felt it was okay. Let`s not forget.

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