9/11 Tribute Five Year Anniversary


Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of 9/11.  The link above is a reminder to never forget.

I was at work on 9/11.  It was just another ordinary day on Long Island.  My mother called to tell me that a plane had just hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center.  She asked if I had access to a T.V.?  I said that there was one in the cafeteria.  She said go look at the news and hung up.  I walked the short distance, thinking a piper cub had hit the tower.  I don’t know why I thought it would be a small plane but I couldn’t imagine anything else.  As I stepped in front of the T.V. I saw the second plane hit.  I thought it was a re-run of the first plane, but was astounded that it was a jet.  My mind could not wrap around the enormity of what was happening.  Other employees joined me in front of the T.V. as we came to the realization that this was no small matter.  I ran back to my desk and told the others what was going on.  We rushed to the cafeteria, panic rising.  Then we heard about the Pentagon.  We were evacated shortly after.  I work in a Federal facility.  God Bless those who died, those who gave their lives trying to save others, the NYFD, the NYDP, the medical community, Mayor Guiliani and the countless others who stepped in and became heros that day and all the subsequent days since 9/11. 


Andrea Yates-Not Guilty By Reason Of Insanity

In a second trial, Andrea Yates was found not guilty, by reason of insanity, of drowning her five children.  She suffered from pychotic postpartum depression. The procecutor’s stance was that she knew the difference between right and wrong but it appeared that even though she may have been able to describe what a good versus a bad action may be, she was still compelled, because of mental defect, to take the action.  One can only imagine the horror her children went through, especially her oldest son, who fought very hard for his life.  I find it difficult to defend Yate’s actions but it appeared that she was severely mentally ill at the time of the murders and I think the jury came to the correct verdict.  Yates will now be remanded to a State mental institution.  They will evaluate her and, I assume, make recommendations as to her ability to function in society.  Her husband, Randy Yates, of course, has moved on but still considers Andrea his “friend”.   

For information on postpartum depression follow these links:



Don Galucci, Fred Carter, Jr-The Men Who Know Where Stephen Ambrose May Be

So I’m doing more research-looking for Stephen Ambrose.  I go to dogpile.com and read that Don Galucci was in the original Kingsmen, famous for the garage-rock song “Louie, Louie”.  I didn’t know I was in rarified company here.  He took the Stooges into the studio and recorded them live-one song a day-and “Fun House”, was the result.  He led Don and the Goodtimes.  He played piano for Sandi Soyle and the Culivators album titled “Can You Hear Me Now”.  I visited her site and emailed her, asking if she’d ask Don where Stephen is….If you want to hear some of Don’s music you can listen to samples on mp3.com.

From Wikipedia: Fred Carter, Jr is a renowned Guitarist, singer and composer, who became one of the most respected and influential guitarists of his generation. Beginning his professional career in the 1950’s, the record charts are replete with his fingerprints across a number of genres. Though based in Nashville and serving as one its premier session guitarists, his influence can be heard on recordings as diverse as Muddy Waters, The Band, and Simon and Garfunkel.  Maybe Fred knows where Stephen is?

Fred’s daughter is Deana Carter, a CMA award winning artist in her own right.



Encounter With an Illegal Immigrant

I went to my local Post Office after work today to mail my niece her August 1st birthday present.  While preparing the box to send it in, a Hispanic man, about 28 years old brings in a large envelope to mail.  Gary, my P.O. guy asks him how he wants it sent but the man doesn’t understand.  Gary makes a few snide comments about learning english and says to me, “If he can’t speak engish I’m not helping him.”  I finished my transaction as the man struggled to explain what he needs. 

Let me back up and say I’m German, Irish, Puerto Rican and American Indian.  I don’t speak Spanish because we were an Air Force family, traveled alot and my Dad didn’t speak it so my mother didn’t, although she is fluent, because we weren’t around her relatives.  Also, I have red hair, green eyes and freckles and really don’t look Hispanic although I identify as Hispanic, among many other things. 

Anyway, Gary wants the guy to fill out a form with his name and address, the name & address of the person the items are being sent to, and to declare what is in the package as it is going to Mexico.  So now I know the guy is Mexican.  I walk over and Gary is still making disparaging comments.  I take the pen from the guy, fill out his name and all the other info because it’s on the package itself.  Then I pick it up and shake it slightly and look at the package quizically.  The guy gets it.  “Photos, ah, poster, no-no, card,.”  He makes a scribbling motion.  I say, “Book, coloring book, pad?”  He smiles and says, “My daughter, quartro annos.”  I say, “Cupleanos?”, I think this means birthday.  He nods yes and smiles at me.  I fill out the rest of the form.  About now I would usually get into it with Gary or anyone who riles my sense of fairness, justice and humanity, but I don’t.  I’m ashamed that I’m Hispanic and can’t help too much.  I think of my family, who are all Americans but who also struggled when they came from Puerto Rico in the 1940’s, and how well we’ve done.  I feel bad that Gary has humiliated him by making fun of him in front of people as he tries to send his four-year old a birthday present.  I take the high road, hand the form to Gary and nod at the man, Andro Zapora Cruz.  He says “Thank you very much.”  He has a name.  An identity.  He’s a man like any other man.  Sending his daughter a gift.  Period.     

Rosemary LaBonte’s Letter To the Editor Makes the Rounds On Email

Pretend, Rosemary, and everybody else who’s passing this stupid email around, that you’re a Native American Indian because then you’d have a right to write about who this country belongs to and comment on illegal immigration.  Otherwise, shut  up and stop passing this email around.  Stop espousing hate because your scared of people who don’t look like you or have your exact values.   To a “one” everybody came here and continues to come here for a better life.  Remember, not everyone came here legally through Ellis Island.  People jumped ships, came in thru Canada , came in all kinds of ways and not legally. They assimilated, legal or not, had children and strived for the American dream.  Just so you know, I’m of Native American decent and a proud American citizen.

Although Snopes says a letter to the Editor was not true, here is the link:


From the OCRegister.com Rosemary LaBonte writes:

Your editorial said it all: “Waving the Mexican flag is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull” [“Immigration realities,” Opinion, March 28].
Clearly, all those on the street protesting the purposed shakeup in their illegal lifestyle should hire themselves a new public-relations firm. What they fail to see or advised to do to gain sympathy among Americans is to promote how much they love the U.S. and how grateful they are to be here. Instead of the American red, white and blue being waved in all of their hands, we see a foreign country’s colors. We hear the old tired explanation about working jobs that “Americans” won’t do. Get a new slogan because that one is yesterday’s news.
If you want to live in this country, tell us why you want to live here. Tell us why you think opportunities are better here. Just don’t put an “entitlement” statement with it. Let us know that you will love and defend the U.S. if allowed to become a citizen. Yes, we are a melting pot, but evidently the melting pot is poured into one bowl. That’s where the “United” in United States comes from.
If you want better jobs, then stay in school and work towards that dream. Just like everybody else. You don’t get into college unless you graduate from high school. And right now there is a huge recruitment for Hispanic students to enter college for free or basically nothing. That is something that my kids aren’t entitled to because, their ancestors floated over here from Ireland, Holland and England three centuries ago before the word “entitlement” had been invented.
If you risk dying in the desert to get here, then leave the red, green and white mentality behind you and start the new life you keep claiming you want. In the next walkout march, think about putting this country’s flag, which so many have died for so you could jabber on about “rights,” into your hands and convince the American public you want to remain here for better reasons than what you are now proclaiming.
Rosemary LaBonte

Stephen Ambrose, Singer

I used to have an album by a singer named Stephen Ambrose.  No one ever heard of him except me and my sister, I think.  One song on the album was called “Tumbleweed”.  Our neighbor used to drive a truck and he had a delivery of albums to take somewhere.  Part of the delivery were these albums by Stephen Ambrose and he gave us one, even though they probably were not his to give as gifts.  We played it until it was all scratched up because we didn’t take care of it.  It was a great album and the lyrics were tender and sad.  

So if anyone has a copy or has even heard of Stephen Ambrose, contact me. I’m going to search the U.S. Copyright Office and see if I find anything there….. 

So I did some research at the U.S. Copyright site and I dug through my old record collection.  I have a copy of the album, but it’s so scratched.  I was reading the back cover and saw that Andrew Gold played acoustic guitar, so did Fred Carter, Jr, and David Powell.  Steel guitar was played by Ed Abner, who was also the engineer,  and Weldon Myrick.  Keyboards by Don Galucci, Bee Bee Cruiser and David Powell.  Bass by Kenny Edwards and Steve Schaffer.  Drums and percussion by Gene Farfin and Jerry Carrigan.  Mandolin and harmonica by Kenny Edwards.  Strings and flute, Manna.  Produced and arranged by Don Gallucci.  Executive Producer Ken Mansfield.  Produced by Larry Murray in Nashville.  So where are all these people?  Where is Stephen Ambrose?  He doesn’t show up when I Google him.  The mystery deepens.  The trail has gone cold.  1972-MGM Records.