Unusual circumstances caused Ed and me to interrupt our journey on Interstate 80 with a stop in North Platte, Nebraska. My submission to CNN iReport about our RV cross-country trip grabbed the attention of the network producers. We weren’t just taking the typical…Read More

Unusual circumstances caused Ed and me to interrupt our journey on Interstate 80 with a stop in North Platte, Nebraska. My submission to CNN iReport about our RV cross-country trip grabbed the attention of the network producers. We weren’t just taking the typical trip to Grandma’s – struggling with Thanksgiving flights or driving cross town – we were motoring in our Prevost across the country from Oregon, to Ingersoll, Ontario, then finally into Greensburg, Pennsylvania. CNN was intrigued and requested more information to air the story. We needed a strong cell phone signal in order to talk with the CNN producer as prep for a later broadcast about our "going home for the holiday" experience. The cell signal strength in North Platte gave us indication that this important call would not be dropped. As arranged, Ed and I responded to the producer’s questions wile parked off I-80. We would go live on the air later in the day compressing our 45 minute call to a mere 3 minutes when broadcasting. With all this excitement, I hadn’t noticed what was beyond our coach window until I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

What is the place I wondered? There was a lake, picnic tables, statues, and a huge American flag waving in the breeze.
This was Iron Horse Park, a pleasant contrast to the typical commercial interstate truck stops and convenience store gas stations. It was a park where Interstate 80 crosses U.S. Highway 83 in North Platte, Nebraska.

Curiously, I wandered further from the coach drawn by the monument and the statues surrounding the flag. At the arched entrance way, I stepped back and shielded my eyes from the bright sun to read: "20th Century Veterans’ Memorial".

When I stepped beneath the arch, I paused to admire a bronze statue called "Defenders of Liberty." And then, I read the some of the thousands of names of veterans inscribed in the bricks that make up the memorial walls, the names of the true "Defenders of Liberty." I didn’t recognize any names. These weren’t the famous military heroes. They were the honorable men and women who served in the military during the Twentieth Century. They’d served in the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Marines, and Coast Guard. More bronze statues on either side of the walkway paid tribute to each of these branches of military service.

At the "Place of Meditation" where the US flag waved, names of veterans from Nebraska preserved the memory of those who sacrificed their lives during Twentieth Century conflicts. The back wall of the Memorial was a brick bas-relief mural illustrating the struggle to preserve peace in the Twentieth Century.

While I quietly reflected on these heroes and the struggles throughout the world to keep peace, terrorism struck and the fragility of human life and peacekeeping efforts became front page news. Far from this Nebraska town, violence erupted in Mumbai, India. That very day, acts of terrorism would eventually kill 179 people. CNN covered this tragedy exhaustively for two days and understandably cut our story about a joyful ride home for the holidays.

Days later, I later I still followed this tragic news story and wondered about the possible memorial this latest conflict would inspire. It wouldn’t be dedicated to our U.S. troops or be along a US interstate; rather it would be in India and remember those who died in Mumbai.


America’s 20th Century Veterans’ Memorial
Iron Horse Park
Intersection of I- 80 & Hwy. 83
North Platte, Nebraska
308-532-6579
www.20thcvetsmem.org
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My experience of the college World Series is one that I will never forget and will hopefully not be my last. When I got married I knew I married into a crazy baseball fan family. My husband and his dad of course being the worst.…Read More

My experience of the college World Series is one that I will never forget and will hopefully not be my last. When I got married I knew I married into a crazy baseball fan family. My husband and his dad of course being the worst. Well that was fine since I really did not hate the sport. I gladly became a baseball fan by marriage and have enjoyed the things I have learned over the past few years.

Since my husband was a little boy all he wanted to do was go to the College World Series in Omaha Nebraska. I am sure as a young kid that desire was to play in it, but as he got older it changed to going to watch the games. With that in mind, him and a friend decided to see if they could get tickets. Tickets are very hard to get and they usually see out with in 15 minutes of going on sale. They were lucky enough to score some tickets and decided to sell what they did not need and buy the tickets they needed from other people selling tickets. This went on for about a month and they finally ended up with tickets for both of them to the first 4 sessions.

Well I guess that was not enough. They wanted to come back, on our way back from a week in Minnesota to catch the first game of the championship series. So my husband got up early went to the Mall of America and purchased tickets for the three of us. Oh boy wasn’t I excited (sense the sarcasm) I could have cared less about going to the College World Series but I knew it meant a lot to my husband and it would be fine.

So it’s the Saturday of the big game. We arrive in Omaha pretty early that day and begin to check out T-shirt stands and buy our souvenirs. We all got shirts and a few hats and so gifts for other people. About an hour before the game started we checked out the ESPN Zone which is pretty close to the front gate, we walked around there for a little while and when the gates opened we headed in. Now being the not huge fan that I am I was not really routing for any team and really had no clue who was even playing (if I am being honest). So of course after being briefed and informed of all the useful info I needed for the game. I was able to choose a team to go for. I actually got excited for the game once I heard the story about the two teams playing. I know that sounds stupid and you are probably thinking I just jumped on the bandwagon, but you have to start some where to become a fan and I got pumped up when I thought about who I would really like to see win.

I mentioned in the overview briefly about the two teams. Oregon State and North Carolina were the two teams playing and neither had won a college world series before. Oregon was making only its second appearance ever in the schools history and that part of the country is not really know for baseball. When I watched a few of the first round games Oregon lost pretty bad to some top schools who have been contenders in the past of the championship. This left Oregon in a bind, having to come back and win almost every game and every match up to make the finals. North Carolina came in with a strong team and pretty much beat every one they played they did not loose a round. Matching these two teams against each other in the championship round.

Well it would be clear to any one who the winner would and should be but that was only the beginning. I choose to cheer for the underdog, and I liked the orange and black beaver thing better than that Carolina blue. So that was the team for me. This first game that we went to was an incredible game. Both teams played extraordinary and in the last inning Carolina took the lead and won the game. A little disappointing but nevertheless a great game. The next match up would put the pressure on Oregon State. Well that was no problem for them they took the game easily that time and then we were on to another game. By now I am on the edge of my seat and a fan for sure. Getting into the intense match up between two schools that are obviously great teams and both wanting to win more than anything.

In the end Oregon State went on to win their first College World Series Title a game I will never forget. The intensity and the pressure that was involved, the heart and hard work these boys must have had to endure paid off in a victory. So it seems my fan ship was not a total lose and I am so excited for next years College World Series. I think this is much more exciting than anything else I have ever experiences sports wise. I will never forget it and am glad my husband drug me to the game.

"Eight Teams, One Dream"
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Valentine is on the northern edge of the "sea" of sand dunes known as Sand Hill Country. I’d heard about the Sand Hills and didn’t have high expectations, but they all but stole the show. The land is wide, open, and hilly, with…Read More

Valentine is on the northern edge of the "sea" of sand dunes known as Sand Hill Country. I’d heard about the Sand Hills and didn’t have high expectations, but they all but stole the show. The land is wide, open, and hilly, with far vistas, sparse human population, and clean air. Here I discovered the writings of Mari Sandoz, daughter of Old Jules, the first of many books she wrote about this area and people who lived here from the 1880s on. Reading Old Jules, purchased at Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge, as we traveled through the Sand Hills was like touching history. Mari Sandoz recounts her family’s lives in authentic yet eloquent voice. Her straightforward manner is devoid of the romanticized, embellished writing style often used in those times.

The Nebraska Sand Hills area is huge! These grass-stabilized dunes cover 20,000 square miles, about 1/4 of the state of Nebraska--the size of the entire state of Connecticut. One hundred million years ago, this was a vast inland sea that dried up. Wind and erosion further shaped the land, leaving many shallow lakes, whose edges teem with wildlife, birds, and plant species. Besides lakes, the long Niobrara River runs through this area, emptying into the Missouri beyond the Sand Hills, on the plains of Northeast Nebraska. Deer, pronghorn, elk, coyote and badger roam the riverbanks, meadows, marshes and hills. Wildflowers bloom from early spring to late fall.

Indigenous peoples made good use of this region, hunting bison and other game and periodically burning the prairie to keep it open and revitalize the ecosystem. Fire helped the native grasses grow and killed trees and brush encroaching on the prairie. Initially, Anglo explorers erroneously thought the hills were barren, and called the area "The Great American Desert", continuing further westward in search of more fertile and farmable land. Soon, though, some stopped to settle, experiment with agriculture, orchards, and cattle grazing.

Out of the East came a lone man in an open wagon, driving hard. This man was Jules, recently arrived from Zurich, Switzerland. The year was 1884. He aimed to settle and farm on the free land available west and south of Valentine. Permanently crippled by a practical joke while digging his well, he thereafter walks with a limp, and his foot never completely heals. Hardship only intensifies his characteristics of determination, stubbornness, intelligence and toughness. Old Jules is bad-tempered, maddeningly insensitive, not particularly likeable, yet kind of grows on the reader all the same. He’s in the thick of the constant infighting and struggle for power between the farmers, sheepmen, and cattlemen. Yet that pales in comparison to the struggles to eke a livelihood out of the sandy soil and harsh climate. Too much rain, not enough, or at the wrong time, or worse, ferocious storms and hail that wipe out all the crops, kill the prized orchard. It’s only gradually, as the tale is told, that we realize the teller is little Marie, daughter of Jules and his fourth wife Mary. She’s destined to clash with Old Jules, as are her brothers. As she succeeds against great odds, becoming a teacher against Jules’ will, he only grudgingly and backhandedly acknowledges his admiration, if not acceptance.

Old Jules draws the reader back in time and immersion into Nebraska frontier life in all its harshness and raw struggle for survival. The families who settled here did so for as many different reasons as one can imagine, some escaping, some by pure chance, some with dreams. Many settlers ended up moving on, some going back from whence they came, and those of a particular mettle remained there on the Sand Hill prairie. A dwindling number of descendents remain on the chosen land of their ancestors.

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Driving east on Highway 20 to Valentine, Nebraska, I read to my husband Bob from the Highway 20 to Adventure brochure: "Cody has a city park with free overnight electrical hookups". He responded, "Let’s check it out". We pulled off our motor home…Read More

Driving east on Highway 20 to Valentine, Nebraska, I read to my husband Bob from the Highway 20 to Adventure brochure: "Cody has a city park with free overnight electrical hookups". He responded, "Let’s check it out". We pulled off our motor home at mile marker 160, immediately encountering the ubiquitous aging grain elevator common to just about every Midwestern town. Just beyond was the park, with a few kids playing on the swings in the dappled sunlight under the trees. Sure enough, though there were no RVs, we spotted what looked to be electrical hookups (30 amp) for four units. A man power-mowing the grass came by and confirmed that we could stay here. As Bob backed into the site, I noticed a donation box built into the fence. Also behind us were toilets and shower in a bright blue-painted building, fresh water, and even a dump station off to the side! The park contained tables and grills in addition to the playground, and on one end, a weedy fenced-off tennis and basketball court. We decided to stay one night, maybe two, at this idyllic little place.

The sleepy town of Cody is anything but bustling, and just about all there was to do was go for walks and jogs, talk to people we met on the streets (not many), and pet town dogs and horses. The perfect summer weather, billowing white clouds in the clear blue sky, and peacefulness of this little town was rapidly endearing. We’d stay two nights.

Cody was not named for Buffalo Bill, but Thomas Cody, a railroad man. The town was born with the coming of the railroad in 1884, and set up post office and school by 1886. Like Tombstone, Arizona, Cody labels itself a "town too tough to die", and like Tombstone, its past reads rough and lawless as a Wild West novel. Unlike Tombstone, it’s completely authentic, without commercialism and tourists. No slick brochures or visitor centers here. I dug up some of Cody’s past at the Cherry County Historical Society Museum in Valentine.

In its early days, Cody was a cattle town full of new settlers and cowboys. Its livestock yards shipped out cattle by the thousands. Uninvestigated murders and frequent arson fed its unsavory reputation. Marshals were hired and fired in quick succession after Cody’s incorporation as a town in 1901. Bootlegging, illegal whiskey trading with Indians concealing flasks in boot tops, was already widely practiced in the region. Prohibition in 1920 merely gave it a boost. Cody Hootch became distributed all over the Midwest, with countless stills in Cody, neighboring towns, and hidden in the brush alongside the Niobrara River to the south. The "law" looked the other way, with the most elaborate still in Cherry County located within Cody city limits!

Cody’s notoriety as a den of vice and gambling was upsetting to its contingent of law-abiding citizens and eventually attracted reformers and circuit preachers. Hunt’s Chapel, already built in 1904, still stands, a pretty white wood frame church with steeple and arched windows. By 1930, Cody’s population had swelled to 428. The town featured hotels, eateries, nightly live jazz, and a newspaper.

Cody also had become known for its wild street rodeos in the center of town. Champion cowgirl and trick rider "Tad" Lucas Barnes got her start here, winning cash prizes at age 13 riding wild calves. Nicknamed "Tadpole" because she was the youngest of 24 Barnes siblings, and diminutive at only 5’2", she went on to Madison Square Garden, winning Champion All Around Cowgirl and World Champion Woman Trick Rider 8 years in a row.

The Depression, waning of the railroad, and advent of trucking and the interstates hurt Cody. As time went on, agribusiness swallowed up family farms and ranches. One local business after the other failed, and the population began to decline, falling to 180 by 1980. One-mile-square Cody’s population now numbers about 150, falling another 16% during the ‘90s. Cody shares a school district with neighboring town Kilgore, 14 miles east. Local youngsters are bussed to Kilgore’s elementary school, then attend high school in Cody.

A few bikers returning from Sturgis stopped at the brick and stone-fronted Cody Bar and Grill, seemingly the most active and perhaps the only viable business in town. Some other bikers set up tent in the City Park one night, becoming our neighbors and leaving early next morning. Cody’s Husker Hub advertised "great food and lots of fun" in the aforementioned brochure, but was closed the two days we were in town. The pumps have been removed from what obviously used to be a corner gas station. Other businesses appear empty, or being used for residences.

New frontier? Small prairie towns all over the Midwest are sharing the same fate, diminishing, aging, in fear of disappearing altogether. Emotions run high among those who remain. Some see what is happening not only as loss of a cherished way of life, but of the essence of American national identity. In some areas, the population has fallen to six or less people per square mile, meeting the 19th Century criteria for frontier. But something’s happening here.... Just across the northern border in South Dakota, on Rosebud and Pine Ridge reservations, as well as in urban centers, populations are growing. Not only human populations, but also bison and native grasses are slowly returning; the prairie is rebirthing itself. Farmland is reverting to wild grassland again in the heartland. To some, this is upsetting; to others, comforting. Will Cody, Nebraska be but a memory in another 100 years, its buildings sagging into the sandy ground, overgrown by prairie grasses, with the deeper, more lasting solitude of a ghost town? Or is it merely changing back to its more slowly changing and intended condition--wild, wide-open Sand Hill prairies?

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Located on Dodge St about 7 miles outside downtown, Omaha Boys Town (now Boys and Girls Town) has been helping troubled children since it was founded by Father Flanagan in 1917. Tours are offered from the visitors center. Unfortunately we arrived too late for a…Read More

Located on Dodge St about 7 miles outside downtown, Omaha Boys Town (now Boys and Girls Town) has been helping troubled children since it was founded by Father Flanagan in 1917. Tours are offered from the visitors center.

Unfortunately we arrived too late for a tour but with a little luck and much persistence we were able to find Father Flanagan's grave and enter the Shrine. This is a beautiful campus and just driving through makes you appreciate the work and dedication that went into making it a reality. We need to thank Spencer Tracy for making Father Flanagan and Boys Town household words. The famous statue "He's not heavy, he's my Brother" is the first thing that greets you as you enter the campus and the last thing you see when you leave.

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Henry Doorly boasts many acres of penned wildlife. Some of my favorite were the giraffes, ostriches, elephants and rhinos. It's strange seeing these exotic animals in the heart of a large city like Omaha. The zoo itself is in a hilly area…Read More

Henry Doorly boasts many acres of penned wildlife. Some of my favorite were the giraffes, ostriches, elephants and rhinos. It's strange seeing these exotic animals in the heart of a large city like Omaha.

The zoo itself is in a hilly area and is nicely landscaped. The pens are fairly large, but I'm sure by no means as large an area as what the animals native habitats might have been.

The aviary is a large oval, netted enclosure where one is able to wander on paths and bridges. A wide variety of birds fly about freely within the area.

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When you pull onto the main road that goes to Rosenblatt Stadium you will see stand after stand after stand selling T-shirts. The strip of road that these stands are on is about a half mile long. They are all lined up one next…Read More

When you pull onto the main road that goes to Rosenblatt Stadium you will see stand after stand after stand selling T-shirts. The strip of road that these stands are on is about a half mile long. They are all lined up one next to the other with a few stores in between.

Most of the stands have the same shirts and the same prices. They sell shirts for each team in the tournament and as that team gets eliminated the shirts are reduced in price. They also sell several different styles of College World Series shirts. Many of the shirts are about $15-$20 depending on the shirt, team and where you get it from, and the sizes can vary from kids to adult, including women and infants. Infant sizes are more rare but you can find at least one shirt in infant sizes. If you get lucky or try you can negotiate and bargain with some of the sellers if you buy multiple shirts or something. A friend we were with got all his shirts for $10 because he bought 10 of them. I got 2 free drinks with one of my shirts and got the shirt for $5 less than another place (the shirt was for a team playing that day and in the playoffs, and it was the last one).

You will also see people selling and buying tickets to the games and trying to sell you other junk as well. You have to be aware of what is legit and what is not. Also along this road you can buy all sorts of baseball and CWS souvenirs. Everything, from bracelets, hats, socks, jerseys, bats, balls, programs, bags, etc. you name it they probably had it. You could also buy food and drinks while walking around trying to find the best deal on shirts. We picked up some ice cream (pink panthers) while walking because it was so hot and we needed to cool off. Close

Normally I find stuff like this kind a waste of time to write about, but there were some neat foods at the concession stands at the College World Series. The first thing that is well known up there and everyone must try at least once…Read More

Normally I find stuff like this kind a waste of time to write about, but there were some neat foods at the concession stands at the College World Series. The first thing that is well known up there and everyone must try at least once is the huge fries bucket. I kept being told it was so big and you can’t finish it on your own. Well I had to see this and check it out for myself. The bucket of fries is big. For $4.50 you get a huge (2 people split ours) boat of fries. Not just any fries though, these were thinly slices fried fries that were so good. They are a little greasy but well worth the fun of trying to eat them. They pile the fries up about 2 inches off the boat and they are all hanging off. I do not know how you can eat them without losing at least some. Even loosing some you still get plenty to fill you up.

The other treat I found that I think is worth writing about is fresh squeezed lemonade. Now I have never been to a baseball game and gotten fresh squeezed lemonade so I was excited. Not only was it great lemonade but part of the cost went to a fundraiser for some local charity. The glass was like $3.50 I think. I love fresh lemonade so this was a great treat for me.

Now between those two things I did not need anything else to eat. However, my son did have a hot dog and my husband had some nachos. Both were also delicious. The concession stands had many choices and different things at each one. Of course as always the prices are a little high but you will have not choice on food and drinks when you come to Rosenblatt Stadium since they do not allow any food or drinks what so ever in the stadium. There are huge trashcans at the front door for you to dump and throw away anything you might have, including water.
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Saint Edward, Nebraska, is the only town in the United States by that name and the town‘s populous is proud to tell everyone this fact. We have camped in Saint Edward several times. There is a lovely, small city park just off the main street…Read More

Saint Edward, Nebraska, is the only town in the United States by that name and the town‘s populous is proud to tell everyone this fact. We have camped in Saint Edward several times. There is a lovely, small city park just off the main street (Beaver Street) in town, from which you can walk to all the facilities in town. As in previous visits, we arrived on a Saturday afternoon. And just like a previous visit, we arrived in the middle of a large town wedding. The community hall was all decked out for the wedding reception. As we walked along Beaver Street, we were invited to attend the reception just as we were the first time that we visited. We became members of the “bride’s party.” We were also invited to partake in a Midwestern tradition that requires the bridesmaids to kidnap the groom and the groomsmen to kidnap the bride and to try to keep them hidden from each other after the reception.

I don’t know where the bride was kept, but we made sure that the groom was not able to find her for several hours. On the corner of Beaver Street and Second Street is a saddle and boot shop. The shop has been owned and operated by the same family for four generations. I always wondered how saddles were made, so I spent a couple of afternoons watching how leather was worked in the shop. All the sewing machines that were used in the shop were run by treadles. I was told that it was easier to control a treadle machine. Most of the machines were very old. Some of them were the original machines that the current owner’s great-grandfather bought when he started the business in the 1880s. One was made in 1883. The owner said that he had to make his own repair parts. He oiled and greased the machines each time that he used them. He said that oil was cheaper than trying to make or get a repair part.

It was interesting to see that the shop was also an informal meeting place for the farmers in the area. When they brought in a bridle or harness to be repaired they stayed and talked about the news of the town. Town’s people constantly paraded into the shop; stopped and talked; shared a Coke or cigarette; and then left to continue their daily activities, all without interfering with the on-going work on the saddle or other leather article being worked on. There was the proverbial wood stove in the middle of the shop area and several stools and benches set around the area. Even though the horse is no longer the prime moving power on the farms, it still plays a role on the farm and the shop has a constant source of business repairing harnesses and bridles and making other leather goods. Working leather is very difficult. It can take a week just to make the wooden form for a saddle. The leather engraving and embossing can take several weeks to months to complete. Everything about the saddle is custom made to the customer’s requirements. Like most small towns that we visit when people heard that there were “strangers” in town an almost continuous parade of people just happen to stop by the trailer to talk. A basket filled with vegetables was left at our door with a note saying “hope that you enjoy these.”

The town librarian mentioned that a particular medicine that she was taking was very expensive. I mentioned that we’ve bought medicine in Mexico at reduced prices and that maybe other Escapees might know more about the medicine that she was using. We left a question on the Escapees web page and two days later she received an answer. When we were leaving she said that she was thinking about taking a trip south to see about her medicine. After a rainy day the town maintenance people came by and dumped some gravel in front of the trailer so that I wouldn’t get stuck when I pulled out the next day. We are constantly amazed how every town that we visit is always so proud of itself. It seems that no matter what it’s economic future might be the local townspeople are always coming up with reasons why their town is the best place to live and bring up a family.

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The small town of Plainview, NE calls itself the Klown Capital of the U.S. The name originated when the local town band decided to dress in clown costumes during one of their concerts. They were so well received that it became a tradition that continues…Read More

The small town of Plainview, NE calls itself the Klown Capital of the U.S. The name originated when the local town band decided to dress in clown costumes during one of their concerts. They were so well received that it became a tradition that continues today. The town has a Klown Museum with clowns of all shapes, sizes and types that have been donated by people from all over the world. They have an annual Klown Festival, with a parade, picnic, and many other family-oriented activities, including mutton bustin’, a porky scramble (you’d have to see these activities to really understand what they are), and a band concert. As part of the celebration, the local sheriff will stop a vehicle with an out-of-state license and “capture” its occupants to be the Klown Kaptives for the weekend festival.

We had been camping in the Plainview city park for a couple of days while we waited for some mail when there was a knock on our door. I opened the door and the sheriff was standing there and asked that since we have Maine state license plates on our truck, we were being selected to be the Klown Kaptives for the Klown Festival. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were in for a one great weekend; one that we would remember for many years to come and that would result in our meeting many new and great friends from this small town. We spent the rest of the weekend being treated to small town hospitality. Normally the Klown Kaptives are required to wear a special clown costume throughout the weekend, but since it was so hot this year, we did not have to wear the costume. We were asked to wear special Klown Festival jerseys during all official activities.

We were assigned an official host couple and treated to anything that we wanted. Wherever we went there was someone putting a soda in our hands, handing us a sandwich, or feeding us popcorn or corn dogs. We were the guest of honor at all the civic activities of the festival including the town picnic barbecue and rode in a classic Corvette as the Klown Parade marshal. Since it was so hot, our hosts invited us to go to their cabin located on a nearby “crick”. We spent the next couple of hours sitting in the shade of the cottonwood trees, in chairs placed in the stream talking about the town and our travels around the country. In the evening we were given front row seats for the concert and were introduced to the townspeople. Even though we had a fifth-wheel trailer in the city park, our hosts insisted that we spend the night as their guests in a beautiful old Victorian home bed-and-breakfast.

This bed-and-breakfast could be a story itself. Each room was decorated with authentic 1800s furniture. Hidden within the antique pieces, however, were signs of the twenty-first century: computer with FAX/modem, cable TV, CD player, and other electronic devices. After a wonderful breakfast the next day, our hosts stopped by and thanked us for being great Klown Kaptives. For our part we plan on donating a Murano crystal clown that we found in Venice, Italy to the Klown Museum. Small town America with it’s celebration of family and family values will always give rebirth to the American spirit and further demonstrates the greatness of this country and its people.

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