Letters from the Issue of November 8, 2001

Three Stupid Screwballs: What do you expect when you spit in the eye of a wounded nation?

Richard Rosichan
Miami Beach

Three-Part Harmony in the Salad Bowl of Life
Even if he's off-key, we need his song: I would like to thank Kathy Glasgow for writing a well-balanced article about the three Miami-Dade firefighters in these days of hype and emotion ("The Opa-locka Three," October 25). I often wonder if all the vegetables in the American salad bowl will have their chance to be served.

William Clark is important to our community. His positions may seem radical and pro-African to many, but his voice is an important one in the South Florida chorus of voices. Continue to provide good journalism and maybe the entire community can sing "America the Beautiful" with pride and love.

Michael L. Lawrence

Three Stupid Screwballs
What do you expect when you spit in the eye of a wounded nation? To answer the question posed by last week's story "The Opa-locka Three": Those three screwball firemen are not victims of institutional racism or war frenzy. Instead they are guilty of stumbling into a funeral with thousands of real victims, and then -- lacking grace and common sense -- they decided to piss on all those smoking corpses to satisfy their own narrowly focused agenda. Then they were stupid enough to act surprised when they encountered confused but understandable rage. Then they called the rage they encountered "racism." In doing so they have cheapened the word "racism" and the fight against that vile cancer we have all waged in our own ways for the last 30 years. They should be ashamed of themselves.

Coke Johnston
Lubbock, Texas

It's Just an Old Baseball
But Ted Williams turned it into something magic: Thanks for Gaspar González's informative article on eagle-eyed Ted Williams ("America's Past Time," October 11). After belting them out of the park for so long, Williams was just as intense in pulling them into the boat. His long trail teaches us to live life to its fullest and to be yourself.

I was just a youngster when the long-ball hitter surprised me with an autographed baseball. He signed it: "Your pal, Ted Williams." Now I'm 51 years old, and it is still an object of affection. I wouldn't trade it for any Mantle, Maris, or McGwire ball in existence. Thanks, Ted!

Alan Gittelson
Miami Beach

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