Posted on 06/13/2002 11:28:03 PM PDT by kattracks
There may be much attention paid, and justly deserved, this Father's Day to the extraordinary September 11 heroes of the New York police and fire departments, to the heroes of Flight 93, and to the scores of brave young soldiers who have sacrificed their lives for the War on Terror. I join in honoring them all, and in keeping their families in continued prayers.
But this little space is reserved today for one of the forgotten fathers who died last fall at the hands of a still-unidentified terrorist attacker or attackers. His name was Thomas Morris Jr. I have no personal connection to him whatsoever, but his story touched me deeply, and his unsolved murder still enrages me.
For 55 years, Mr. Morris lived an ordinary life -- the kind that doesn't make the nightly news or talk radio. The kind that doesn't get attention from Congress or Hollywood celebrities. The kind that most dads lead: decent, dedicated and quiet. Mr. Morris, according to his friends and family, was a private, humble and hard-working man. He served in the Air Force decades ago. And in 1973, he took a job that he held until October 2001.
Mr. Morris worked for the U.S. Postal Service.
He unloaded mail trucks and sorted letters and packages at the Brentwood plant in Washington, D.C. It was not a glamorous job. It was honest work. He showed up every morning with his lunch packed in a brown paper bag. He never took a sick day. An official with his local postal workers' union told reporters: "Thomas Morris was always a straightforward person. He was one person that you expected to do right."
Off hours, Mr. Morris's main passion was bowling. He was team president of his local mixed league. He had an average in the 200s, his son told a reporter. At the alley, Mr. Morris kept his cool when tempers flared. "He was mild-mannered and wouldn't get angry," one bowling colleague said. His friends affectionately called him "Moe."
On Friday, Oct. 12, 2001, Mr. Morris worked an overnight shift. The next morning, he was exposed to a powdery envelope. He didn't feel well all week. A few days later, he sought medical treatment. By this time, front-page news had broken of anthrax-tainted mail arriving on Capitol Hill. Mr. Morris made sure the doctors at his local Kaiser Permanente hospital knew where he worked and described his anthrax-like symptoms. They recommended Tylenol and sent him home.
But Mr. Morris suspected something unimaginably worse. In the early morning hours of Sunday, Oct. 21, he called 911. His voice was calm and thoughtful, but worried. "I don't know if I have been, but I suspect that I might have been exposed to anthrax," he told a dispatcher. "I went to the doctor Thursday. He took a culture, but he never got back to me with the results . . . Now I'm having difficulty breathing, and just to move any distance, I feel like I'm going to pass out."
He recalled his possible anthrax exposure the weekend before: "A woman found an envelope, and I was in the vicinity. It had powder on it. They never let us know whether the thing had, was anthrax or not. They never treated the people who were around this particular individual and the supervisor who handled the envelope. So I don't know if it is or not. I've not been able to find out. I've been calling. But the symptoms that I've had are what was described (to) me in a letter that they put out. Almost to the T."
Mr. Morris was admitted to a different hospital and treated for suspected inhalational anthrax. It was too late. He died several hours later of respiratory failure. At an intensely private funeral, Mr. Morris' son summed up the simple integrity of his dad's life: "He was a good man. He loved his family, his co-workers and bowling." Mr. Morris was buried with an American flag at Maryland National Veterans Cemetery.
"He could have been my dad," said the mayor of Washington, D.C., after the service. Or mine. Or yours. Eight months later, his murder has been all but forgotten. This good man's family deserves our prayers. More importantly, they deserve answers.
Contact Michelle Malkin | Read her biography
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L
I wish that somebody would look it up.
When you know, then consider how old is the technology and how long we have had to improve upon it.
Then think about what we actually might have the capability to see.
During the Vietnam War, we used mobile, ground-based RADAR systems / units to discover the locations of the enemy mortars' firing.
Now think about the B-2; it's fairly new; but what about the SR-71?
That aircraft is an old system, approaching forty years.
It pains me to even mention these systems, because anything, here, is a refreshment for some enemy of our people.
But the time has come to make a point.
Somebody, often, "up high" or in the media or in your education may not have brought to your attention how capable we are, but on the other hand, for a few of us, some have seen quite a lot and/or learned much.
I have to report that I am just guessing, because that is how I have to report.
It's a riddle.
Among other things that the people will pay for, is the differential of secrecy; that secrecy lends value to something, which in fact may have little or no value at all, yet still holds a power over what feeds it.
Money and authority are power.
So are secrets.
To not appear to be money-grubbing or power-hungry, it is common for politicians to resort to secrets, to puff up their value.
The trouble for them, is that they commonly do not the science of what they are about, and how such science is not only a resource of the secret, but a pipeline to and from it.
You may not tell me how many people you have in your organization, but every form of supply to and from it, can be measured.
The "higher-ups" have typically not "dirtied their hands" with such matters, and thus they do not know how much they tell when they think they are keeping secrets.
Imagine how on the one hand, a person can view a panorama, then turn to their board and paint. Another can hear a tune and turn to the keyboard and play it. They see what others do not, but they are not all that conscience of the seeing, just the expression of it ... is their concentration; commonly, they have absorbed the view "just like that."
Well, imagine what other people see, who can create an SR-71.
Imagine what a few people see, of how other people see.
For some, it is a business; and it is also quite a lot of work to explain what is seen ... to people who do not see it.
Think again, about what it is like to paint beautifully, or to render a piece of wood perfectly into a statue of an admiration. With each work, the artist sees more perfectly than ever can another person whose talents are elsewhere.
We all have the talent to see; but we are unaware, commonly, of what it is that we see most easily; it is too easy.
Then again, that is some of my point.
We are amateurs; but for the most, we are not often aware of how really good we are at what we see best --- unfortunately, it also has to do with how un-skilled we are at expressing what we see.
But you may imagine what we see and have seen.
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