Penny Grossman cringes each time a student mentions a birthday party during class at her Boston, Massachusetts-area preschool. The rule there, and at a growing number of America's schools, is that parties and play-dates shouldn't be discussed unless every child in the room is invited.

Life isn't fair, and the sooner children learn to accept that, the sooner they'll be able to enjoy life's sweet rewards.

This was perhaps the most uncomfortable I've been behind the wheel in quite some time. Riding the brake at 2mph with the ERV's limited leg room meant holding my leg in the air, with my knee bent at 45 degrees, for an hour. Add to that children dashing in from of the truck looking for candy, very limited visibility, and the fact that I've been qualified to drive this beast for less than two weeks, and it was a very, very tiring drive.

Two events made the pain worth while. We were driving behind several radio station vans that were capturing the crowd's attention by tossing chips into the crowd. What struck me, though, was that when we approached everyone stopped what they were doing the started to clap and cheer. I heard one girl off on the left remark that she was from New Orleans and a little while later I heard a mother refer to us as "heroes" to her son. It was all I could do to keep from crying. I don't volunteer with the Red Cross for recognition, and the thanks we get from our clients are all the pay I need, but it was very, very touching to receive praise from people we'd never met.

I mentioned a second event. As we approached the judge's stand I noticed that the MC was an old friend with whom I'd lost contact, Sean Donahue. I caught his attention and the next thing I heard was Sean remarking to the crowd, "Hey! I know the driver. That's Bill Curnow!" The clapping was heart warming, but the name recognition was just darned cool. It definitely made the next couple of blocks a little easier to drive.

To be honest, my Red Cross tank had been running on fumes lately, but today definitely filled it up. This really is a great place to live.

9. You know Pumpkin, now that you're thirteen, you'll be ready for unchaperoned car dates. Won't that be fun?

8. I noticed that all your friends have a certain "up yours" attitude ... I like that.

7. Here's a credit card and the keys to my new car -- GO CRAZY.

6. What do you mean you wanna play football? Figure skating not good enough for you, son?

5. Your Mother and I are going away for the weekend ... you might want to consider throwing a party.

4. Well, I don't know what's wrong with your car. Probably one of those doo-hickey thingies -- you know -- that makes it run or something. Just have it towed to a mechanic and pay whatever he asks.

3. No son of mine is going to live under this roof without an earring -- now quit your belly-aching, and let's go to the mall.

2. Whaddya wanna go and get a job for? I make plenty of money for you to spend.

1. Father's Day? aahh -- don't worry about that -- it's no big deal.

by John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.
Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

We are a nation of laws, including those that control how visitors can enter this country, how long they can stay and how they can become permanent citizens. I expect those visitors to obey the same laws that citizens are expected to follow; and I expect my government to enforce the law when those visitors choose to ignore it.

America is my home. I consider myself a generous and hospitable kind of guy, but you have overstepped your bounds when you break into my house… eat my food and sleep in my bed, and then demand that I "forgive and forget" and treat you like a member of the family.

It is not like we ask the impossible of the illegals. Hundreds of thousands of people from around the world have come to this country legally, persevered through the process, "studied to show themselves approved" and earned the precious honor of American citizenship. It can be done; the invaders simply choose not to make the effort.

Bob Griggs, Nothing "Mexican" on Cinco de Mayo

Considered felons by the [Mexican] government, these migrants fear detention, rape and robbery. Police and soldiers hunt them down at railroads, bus stations and fleabag hotels. Sometimes they are deported; more often officers simply take their money.

Mark Stevenson, Associated Press Writer, Few Protections for Migrants to Mexico

One final thought about this notion that the illegal immigrants are filling vital jobs that American's simply won't do, anyone who watches The Discovery Channel's Dirty Jobs knows there isn't any job an American won't do.

Although we are responsible for nineteen counties, we've had relatively few calls considering the fire situation in Texas right now. Last night, though, my “day job” and my “night job” collided as we were called out to feed the Slaton Fire Department as they tackled a 3,000 bale cotton warehouse fire. The sun had set by the time we made the coffee, picked up the burgers and fries and headed towards Slaton, a small community about fifteen miles from Lubbock. Despite it being pitch black, we started seeing the smoke about five miles out. We picked up the glow of the fire a mile later.

We pulled up on the leeward side of the conflagration to find out where the fire department wanted us to stage. As I stood there, a mere twenty feet from the fire, I was initially stuck by the lack of smell. It just didn't smell like a fire, in fact, there was barely any odor at all. Then, as a giant 500 pound bale of flaming cotton dropped six feet to the ground, I realized where I was standing and took a step back.

We passed out a few meals before driving around to the windward side of the fire where the bulk of the firemen were. Slaton's fire department is primarily a volunteer department. They all have day jobs and other places to be, but when we showed up they were thanking us! It really should have been the other way around, but I'm beginning to understand that the service we provide to first responders, while different, is really no less important than the role we provide to victims.

Once the guys on the line we taken care of, we drove over to the firehouse to feed the boys monitoring the radios. We had a few extra burgers so they invited us to stay and eat with them. I got to eat in a firehouse! Sure, it sounds silly, after all it's just a building, but it was a neat experience.