I spent my morning watching the Pope bless Ground Zero and some of the survivors of victims. It openned a lot of memories for me. After 9/11, I flew home for Christmas, and my Dad picked me up at Newark, he took me directly across the river to Ground Zero. It was a ghoastly, errily quiet, yet busy place at 10pm that night. I knew some guys who died there, i knew some guys who didn't. All of these thoughts and memories came back to me this morning. I'm not sure how to finish this, as i began writing it sort of stream of concionus. So there, I'm done.