A Few Words from Andy Rooney: A face of America Commentary
By Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates, LTD
The Face of America Project
faceofamericawps.com
tony.mussari@gmail.com
A writer’s job is to tell truth. Andy Rooney
The news of Andy Rooney’s death took me by surprise. It came on a day when I was
thinking about death of another kind. That’s a story for another day.
By Kitch & Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates, LTD
The Face of America Project
Joy is not in things. It is in us. Richard Wagner
During our Face of America journey, Kitch and I survived a serious automobile accident in
Minnesota, heat stroke in New Hampshire, road rage in Florida, a blizzard in Arizona, closed roads in Wyoming, and 3 computer meltdowns.
These are trivial events compared to what happened on December 9, 2010. On that day Kitch went for her annual mammogram. I was at home preparing for a screening of our documentary: Visiting Shanksville in the Rain. It was scheduled for December 10, in North Plainfield, New Jersey.
The telephone rang. The voice at the other end of the line cracked with emotion. I heard words that I never expected to hear. Kitch could 
not finish the call. That was done by the compassionate and competent voice of Dr. Dan Kopen.
Within minutes, I was in his office holding Kitch’s hand while Dr. Kopen explained the results of the mammogram and the need for a biopsy. In less than a week, we met with Dr. Kopen again. This time he spoke three words that seared an indelible mark on my soul: “invasive ductal carcinoma.”
For the next 11 months, virtually all of our time, effort and energy was spent battling an adversary we could not see, hear, or feel.
Fast forward to the most beautiful Sunday of autumn, Kitch and I are making our way to the Grand Ballroom at the Woodlands Inn and Resort.
We were welcomed graciously at the door by a board member and a volunteer from Candy’s Place. After a brief conversation we entered the ballroom. We were overwhelmed by what we saw.
Wherever we looked, someone dressed in something pink was smiling or laughing. People were engaged in good conversation. They were taking group pictures. They were checking out the cornucopia of prizes donated by public spirited citizens to raise money for the one-on-one programs offered at the Center for Cancer Wellness.
Heather Gaydos, a high school student and volunteer, was selling homemade biscotti and cookies. Theresa Novak, the yoga instructor at Candy’s Place and two of her friends were carrying baskets filled with chocolate products courtesy of her store, Ah! Some Chocolates.
Penny Cunningham, the founder of Candy’s Place, was busy meeting and greeting people, and Nicole Farber, the center
cirector, was attending to last minute details for the tea.
The atmosphere was welcoming and very festive. The mood in the room was joyful, and the setting was beautiful in every respect of the word.
The beverage and sweets served at the tea were tastefully displayed and quickly removed by the room full of cancer survivors, family members and friends who came to show their support for Candy’s Place.
One by one, eight of these women walked to 
the podium in the front of the room to tell their stories about diagnosis, treatment and survival.
Rebecca Barrett was 37 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She asked the question, “What has the gift of cancer given me?”
Her answer; “It made my family stronger. It made me stronger, and it made me closer to my family.”
Mary Ann Meeker is an affable woman. She likes to talk. In 1996, she was 57 and enjoying life. She had no family history of breast cancer. These are the words she used to describe her reaction to the news that she had breast cancer.
“It hit me like a ton of bricks.”
Carol Marino is a strong woman with a good sense of humor. She talked about the dark time between diagnosis, surgery and recovery. Even though she has been cancer free for 17 years, it is still an emotional experience for her. She celebrated the services provided by Candy’s Place and the friends she made there. She offered this piece of advice to those who will be diagnosed with cancers of any kind. “You have to believe in hope. When it might seem darkest, you have to have hope.”
Stacey Casey attended the event with her 
husband. She admitted that she is a newcomer to the long gravel road called cancer. She thanked her husband for his loyalty and support and she made it very clear that she is learning every day that support from family and friends is vital to recovery.
Rhonda Zikowski spoke with honesty about the fear that comes with cancer, and she thanked Christine Fazzi the personal trainer at Candy’s Place for making her feel stronger. With sincerity that touched the hearts of everyone in the room she paid Chris the ultimate compliment, “You are always kind, generous and there for me.”
Jean Connelly is a decorated veteran in the war against cancer. She has successfully defeated
two different forms of cancer. Jean is a woman of infectious humor and great resolve. She spoke with authority when she shared these words, “When they throw the “C” word at you, it hits home and knocked the wind out of my sails.”
For Beth Miner, 2007 was an Annus Horribilis. 
Her 40-year-old niece died from breast cancer. Her neighbor died from breast cancer, and she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Beth had a very difficult time with chemotherapy, and she could not finish the infusion treatments, but fortunately things worked out well for her and her family. Today she is a volunteer at Candy’s Place and a woman who has a special gift when working with other survivors. Maybe that’s because when people walk through the door to Candy’s Place, Beth sees a mirror image of herself.
In Beth’s words, “When I meet a cancer survivor for the first time the feelings come back to me. I don’t know why I am here, but I am standing strong.”
Mary Ann Gap was the last speaker. She is a positive and determined woman. Her story speaks
to the heart and soul of Candy’s Place. When she was diagnosed at 50, she was alone. Her family and friends lived out of state. She did not drive, and she was struggling.
Her radiation oncologist, Dr. Norman Schulman, connected her with Candy’s Place. When she made her first visit, Nicole Farber greeted her with a smile. She arranged to have Denise Fried make a weekly call to Mary Ann. This call gave Mary Ann the gift of connection, and it helped her make a successful recovery.
Listening to these women and thinking about Kitch’s experience in her one-on-one yoga classes with Theresa Novak, makes it very clear to me that cancer is a vicious disease that can be beaten if detected early. But it takes a family to overcome the fears and the scars that come with the treatment and cure.
In my opinion, if you’re looking for love, go to Candy’s Place. If you’re looking for compassion, go to Candy’s Place, if you’re looking for understanding, go to Candy’s Place. At Candy’s Place you are family.
It was inspiring to be in the presence of a 
room full of heroines. No matter
where you looked in the Grand Ballroom, you saw a heartwarming, thought provoking scene. The words of Emily Dickinson took on new meaning for me, because these women had found ecstasy in life. For them, the mere sense of living was joy enough.
In a way, Kitch and I were having our third cup of tea at Candy’s Place. We were no longer strangers, or casual friends. Like everyone in the room, we were family, and it felt wonderful.
The moment Penny Cunningham won the door prize added to our delight. What a fitting and serendipitous end to a memorable afternoon.It doesn’t get any better than an afternoon of pink tea at Candy’s Place.
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Maintaining Justice: A Face of America Experience
By Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates, LTD
The Face of America Project
“If we do not maintain justice, justice will not maintain us.” Francis Bacon
Our Face of America Journey took me to the Luzerne County Courthouse this week thanks to a summons I received from the court administrator.
It read:
“YOU ARE HEREBY SUMMONED FOR
JURY DUTY IN THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS”
Without hesitation, reservation, or an attempt to get out of my civic duty, I made my way to the Luzerne County Courthouse. I had been a juror once before, and I enjoyed the process. I was looking forward to another positive experience.
As I drove the blue-lined roads to the courthouse parking garage ten miles from my home, the words of Jefferson, Franklin and Hamilton heightened my anticipation:
“I consider trial by jury as the only anchor yet imagined by man by which a government can be held to the principles of its constitution." Thomas Jefferson
"If it [jury power] is not law, it is better than law, it ought to be law, and will always be law wherever justice prevails.” Ben Franklin
“I think the first duty of society is justice.” Alexander Hamilton
I was prepared and willing to do my part to make the justice system work.
With the preliminaries, security checks and registration behind me, I took my seat in the back row of the jury board room. It was filled with more than 140 people.
We were greeted and given our instructions by Don Tedesco, jury management supervisor. He was assisted by a young woman named Karen Krutski and a serious-minded man named Jeff Bott.
Shortly after Don Tedesco finished his presentation, Judge Joe Cosgrove entered the room to extend an upbeat and engaging welcome.
I have known Judge Cosgrove for many years as a
student, a colleague and a friend. In another time and place our paths crossed often.
Today we see one another occasionally. On this day, the relationship was much different.
Judge Cosgrove was dressed in his judicial robe, a symbol of the importance of the moment. With the infectious smile that is his trademark, he got right to the point with short but effective remarks.
“There is nothing more important that you can be doing,” he said. “You are protecting the constitution.”
“Like the fireman in the firehouse, your waiting to be called is a valuable act of service. It is a very big deal that you are here.”
Judge Cosgrove recognized the inconveniences we would experience; the waiting, the Spartan nature of the jury room, the isolation from others, the need to detach from digital communications when in the courtroom and deliberations. He reminded us that like soldiers in war, suffering is part of service.
He also made a surprising and poignant comment about the recent scandal involving several judges in Luzerne County. “In Luzerne County we have taken some hits,” he said. “The only way we can restore justice is case by case.”
He ended his remarks with these words; “Have a good and rich experience.”
I was determined to make that happen. The employees of the court administrator’s office, Don, Karen, and Jeff did everything in their power to assure everyone that it would happen. They were welcoming, courteous, competent and helpful.
As with most things in life, the people in the neighborhood are the ones who make good things happen. The people in my jury duty neighborhood were a delight to be with.
The person on my right, Mary Ann Court, is a retired Verizon customer service representative. She is the first person I met after I was cleared by security to enter the courthouse. Mary Ann is pleasant, thoughtful and interesting. She is a natural conversationalist. For three days, we shared stories about work, family and Italian cooking.
Wilbert Dippel is a retired packaging manager. He is quiet by nature. His twin passions in life are cars and fishing. His stories about his trips to the Thousand Islands to fish were informative and entertaining. Even more compelling and interesting were the stories he shared about caring for his parents during their years of age, ill health and
need. Wilbert is a man who exudes character and integrity.
Chuck Perez is a man’s man. He loves cars, and his life has been shaped by his expertise about cars. He is an avid fisherman and a great storyteller. Every neighborhood should have a Chuck Perez.
Susan Rinehimer is a woman of dignity and class. The moment our eyes met we became fast friends. There is a special quality about her eyes that touches your heart when she talks about her life, her work and her family. At the moment she is attending to some medical issues, and she is making an effort to stop smoking.
Mendy Haas is a young woman who sees the larger issues of life. She is not drawn to the flash of celebrity. Her life is about family, and a close group of friends. Wendy is thoughtful, caring and kind. She was the only one from our neighborhood selected for a jury pool.
Greg Moyer taught fourth grade. He is a thoughtful person who enjoys traveling to various parts of America. Because of our common interest in teaching and seeing America from the ground up, we had some wonderful conversations about our country and the challenges it faces in education.
Getting to know and spend time with Mary Ann, Wilbert, Chuck, Susan, Mendy and Greg 
enhanced the jury duty experience for me. They provided but another collage of the Face of America on its best day. These are the people who make America work in quiet but effective ways. For me, they spoke to the goodness of the American spirit and the value of the priceless gift of trial by a jury of one’s peers. They enabled me to look beyond the discomfort of the steel folding chairs and the long wait to be called for a jury pool. They made the experience rich in many different ways.
In all honesty, most people do not want to be called for jury duty. Some go so far as to argue that the system is antiquated. A few become belligerent and take out their frustrations on the employees who are assigned the difficult task of making the jury system work. Others refuse to
register to vote because they mistakenly believe the names of jurors are picked from voter registration rolls. That is not the case. The names come from driver’s license registration.
In Luzerne County a new jury pool is assembled every week of the year. That’s more than 7,000 names every year, and it’s no small accomplishment to keep all of these people interested, motivated, focused on the important task at hand and moving in the right direction.
The heralded attorney Clarence Darrow said it best:Justice has nothing to do with what goes on in the courtroom. Justice is what comes out of the courtroom.
Everyone in America should be blessed to be called for jury duty. It is a humbling, a leveling, and a thought-provoking experience. It puts everything in perspective. It is an opportunity to see America at its best, at its worst and at its beautiful dependence upon people of good will who sacrifice a few days of their lives so that justice will prevail and flourish.
For three days this week, I joined a community of citizens from our county to maintain justice. It was an honor, a privilege, and an opportunity to see America at its best and the faces of America that make it that way.
Thank you, Jeff Bott, Don Tedesco, Karen Krutski, Thelma Kennedy and Mary Malone for the time effort and energy you invest in making the system work to everyone’s advantage. I hope I have an opportunity to work with you again. (Picture of Judge Joe Cosgrove courtesy of The Times Leader, Photograph by Don Carey) Please provide feedback to:
By Kitch & Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates, LTD
“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you” Christian Morgenstern
Anyone who has experienced the anxiety, agony, pain and uncertainty
that comes with a diagnosis of cancer knows full well the need for words of comfort, help and encouragement.
They also know that cancer victims, and their caregivers, need safe havens where they can experience what Kitch calls “No ‘C’ Days.”
In our little corner of the world, we are fortunate to have such a place. It is officially known as The Center for Cancer Wellness of NEPA. We prefer its more affectionate and personal name, Candy’s Place.
On this October evening, Kitch and I went to Candy’s Place to listen to Dr. Dan Kopen talk about breast cancer.
Dr. Kopen and Candy’s Place are about as close as any cancer patient will get to perfection. Dr. Kopen represents the best in breast cancer diagnosis and surgery. Candy’s Place offers cancer patients a kind, 
thoughtful, warm and welcoming environment for recovery. You feel it the moment you enter the building, and it stays with you long after you leave.
During our visit, Dr. Kopen emphasized 10 important points about breast cancer. His presentation began with hope and it ended with reassurance.
1. Cancer is not the disease it used to be.
2. In the 1970s, it was a death sentence. That is not the case today.
3. Advances in digital mammography enable doctors to diagnose early stages with greater accuracy and frequency.
4. Cancer is a scary word; the earlier the diagnosis the better then prognosis.
5. Much of what you hear about breast cancer is not all good information.
6. More younger women are being diagnosed today.
7. There are 300 ongoing studies about breast cancer.
8. There is a correlation between the environment and cancer, but it cannot be pinpointed accurately.
9. To effectively battle breast cancer the mind and the body must be in sync.
10. A second opinion is one of the best ways to align the mind and the body to combat breast cancer. A patient should not leave any stone unturned in making a decision about the proper treatment. Her physician should do everything possible to get her the best treatment available.
That is precisely what Dr. Kopen did for Kitch. He encouraged, and he facilitated a second opinion at Fox Chase in Philadelphia. That visit made all the difference for us.
We returned from our visit with Dr. Laurie Goldstein with a very specific plan and renewed confidence. The physiology and psychology were aligned thanks to the wonderful people we met at Fox Chase.
Dr. Dan Kopen is a genuine from-the-heart as well as the mind kind of doctor. He has treated 3,000 breast cancer patients. He has performed 2,000 breast cancer surgeries. His credentials are impeccable. His demeanor is quiet, competent, compassionate and welcoming. Just being in his presence makes a patient feel comfortable.
On this evening, he arrived early, and stayed late. He answered every
question, and after his presentation he visited with several people who wanted to seek his advice about their situation. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I saw a person who loved his work because he knew he was in a position to help people successfully navigate the dark gravel road called cancer.
He also made time for three student nurses from Wilkes University, and members of the administrative staff at Candy’s Place.
Penny Cunningham, the founder of Candy’s Place, was on hand to greet everyone. Penny is an amazing woman. She has dedicated virtually every minute of her life to the mission of Candy’s Place. The premature death of her sister Candy Vincent Mamary in 1998 closed the door to a priceless relationship with her sister, but it opened the door to Candy’s Place for thousands of people who benefit from its programs like yoga, exercise, massage therapy and cancer awareness and treatment information.
With great skill and due diligence, she has assembled a top notch team of professionals and volunteers headed by Nicole Farber. They are the heart and soul of Candy’s Place. They make it what it is by attending to all the little things that matter to patients and caregivers.
At one point in the evening, I saw an image of Dr. Kopen, Penny Cunningham, and Nicole Farber talking with the student nurses and a cancer survivor. As I focused the image for a digital picture, the words of Martina McBride’s song, “I’m Gonna Love You Through It” reverberated in my memory:
When you’re weak, I’ll be strong
When you let go, I’ll hold on
When you need to cry, I swear that I’ll be there to dry your eyes
When you feel lost and scared to death,
Like you can’t take one more step
Just take my hand, together we can do it
I’m gonna love you through it.
It’s the perfect description of the people who made this evening so special, and the life- saving blessings of Candy’s Place.
During the evening while I was recording video and digital images, I
thought about Kitch’s battle with breast cancer.
Under the watchful eye of Dr. David Greenwald, she successfully completed chemotherapy. It was difficult, demanding and at times debilitating, but she never gave up and she never gave in.
When she finished her chemotherapy infusions, she took the extra step to guarantee a successful outcome by taking 33 radiation treatments administered by Dr. Norman Schulman and his wonderful staff of technicians.
To facilitate the transition from treatment to the restoration of a full life, Kitch visits Candy’s Place once a week for one-on-one yoga lessons with Theresa Novak. These sessions have been invaluable in her recovery.
Before Kitch and I got into our car for the ride home, I turned to look at the entrance to the building. What I saw in the darkness of the night was a bright moon resting just above Candy’s Place. Below it, three women were sharing stories about the evening. They were smiling and enjoying the comfort of good information, good company, delicious treats and a sense of 
belonging that lifted their spirits and gave them hope.
Oliver Wendell Holmes was right, “Where we love is home.”
Thank you, Penny Cunningham.
Thank you, Nicole Farber
Thank You, Dr. Dan Kopen
Thank you, Kitch for giving me the opportunity to love you through it.
You are four faces of America on its best day.
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By Tony Mussari, Sr.
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates, LTD
We realized that the important thing was not the film itself but that which the film provoked. Fernando Solanas
While driving to Catonsville, Maryland on a
beautiful October morning, a story from half a lifetime ago flashed through my mind. It’s the only thing I know about Catonsville.
On May 17, 1968, nine people, including two Catholic priests and a Christian Brother, went to the Selective Service office in Catonsville to destroy draft documents. They filled two wire baskets with stolen documents. Then, they assembled in a parking lot where they burned the documents to protest the Vietnam War.
Their act of civil disobedience was headline news all over the country. Four months later they went on trial in Baltimore, and the rest as they say is history.
Fast forward 33 years. It’s October 5, 2011, the anniversary of the trial of the Catonsville 9. On this day, the morning papers are filled with stories of protesters carrying signs heralding “The 99” and their protest against corporate greed. The first amendment is alive and well in America.
On this day my head and my heart were filled with anticipation. I was going to Catonsville to screen and discuss our documentary, Shanksville, PA: A Place of Transformation. It was a very special occasion, because the invitation came from a former student, now a successful manager and part time teacher, Dr. Richard Ostopowicz.
Rick, as he likes to be called and I have a history. We met at a time and place when we had some teaching moments. They were not comfortable or easy moments, but they were transformational moments for Rick. He graciously acknowledges their importance in his education and development. His old teacher relishes in his success.
Someone once told me a teacher must do everything he can to see to it that the student has an opportunity to equal and surpasses the achievements of the teacher. Sometimes it is affirmation, and other times it’s candor. To use the words of Steve Jobs, “at one time in our life all of us will be hit in the head with a brick.” Teachers use softer language, but the consequence is the same. People with a learning, not a sulking, disposition understand it is one of the best things that can ever happen. It produces transformations.
When I arrived in Catonsville, I had two experiences that endeared me to the city. I stopped at Edmondson Sunoco. As I finished filling my Prius, a red truck carrying discarded metal parts pulled into the station. My eyes scanned the scene and settled on a sign attached to the rear window. It read, “One Day at a time.”
I was curious and intrigued; the why question motivated me to get my digital camera. I approach the driver, and I asked him for permission to take a picture of the sign.
He obliged.
When I finished, I had a brief conversation with Bill Garry about his sign, and I discovered the heart and soul of a man with a beautiful smile and a wonderful disposition.
“Living life one day at a time is central to the AA program,” he told me. “I try to live these words every day.”
The expression on Bill’s face spoke volumes about the man and his life. It is a moment I will never forget.
Shortly after I left the Sunoco station, I
managed to get lost. I ended up in the parking lot of Pierce Cleaners and Tuxedo. Once inside I met Kyle Davis the owner of Edwards Home and Lawn. He volunteered to help me find my destination. Using his smart phone he found the address. It just happened to be in the shadow of the parking lot two blocks away.
My two person survey of Catonsville left a positive impression of the town and its residents, not scientific to be sure, but heartwarming nonetheless.
As I was getting out of my car in front of Rick’s home, I had another serendipitous moment. A white pickup truck pulled in behind me, and a warm voice spoke words of welcome that sealed the deal. This would be a very good visit.
After dinner with Rick, his wife and their two adorable boys, we were off to the community college for the main event.
The ride to the Catonsville Campus of the Community College of Baltimore was short, and the conversation during the ride was pleasant. When we entered the building, I felt the rush of pre-class anxiety and expectation. I could feel myself going into teacher mode.
Rick is a big man with a very engaging manner. He attended to the technology making sure that everything was in place to optimize the screening for everyone who attended. While he talked with students, I printed a structural outline for the class on a chalkboard next to the entrance to the room. As students took their seats I visited with them to introduce myself, and I suggested that they take a seat in the center of the room where they would get the best view of the documentary.
Rick picked up on this, and he projected a
typewritten sign that reinforced my suggestion.
When all of the students were assembled, Rick collected their assignments. He shared some refinements for matters discussed in the previous class, and then he gave me the floor.
After I reviewed the outline for the class, I asked everyone to disconnect from their digital devices, and I repeated words I received earlier in the day in an e-mail from a former student who is a successful corporate executive in Florida. “Push the pause button.” I implored the students to focus their attention on what would happen in their classroom for the next three hours. The students who were in the room turned off their smart phones.
To provide context for the film, I read excerpts from the introduction I presented in Shanksville on September 24. Two key points were emphasized:
Ten years ago, we made a promised to tell the Shanksville story with dignity and class. For 3,650 days, we have remained true to that promise. In doing that, we have been changed in ways we never thought possible.
Today, Kitch and I look at our county through a different lens, and we measure ourselves and the people we meet against the Shanksville standard.
We produced Shanksville, PA: A Place of Transformation, the 22d episode in our What Is America? series, to remember the heroes of Flight 93, to put the spotlight of affirmation on a group of students who speak eloquently and convincingly about their county, this place of hope and healing, and the America dream.
Yesterday we celebrated the heroes of the day the earth stood still for America. Today we come together as a community of people searching for answers to questions that are larger than life. Tonight we will remember the legacy of yesterday to guarantee the promise of tomorrow.
At 8:05 p.m., four hours after I arrived in Catonsville, the lights were dimmed and the screening began.
I selected a seat in the back of the room
where I could see the audience as well as the film. I was impressed by the quite attentiveness of the students during the film. There was but one distraction. A student who arrived late settled in a seat next to mine. Before he sat down, we shook hands and I welcomed him. He was very pleasant and respectful. Unfortunately, he did not hear the request to push the pause button and detach from digital devices. At critical points in the film his eyes were on his smart phone. At one important point before the end of the film, I asked him to put his eyes on the screen. He politely turned off the phone, and he watched the ending.
Shortly after 9 p.m., the credits rolled. Then, the lights came on. Rick gave the students a short break. When they returned, the discussion began.
Several students liked the positive tone of the documentary. They liked the comments of the people featured in the film, especially the Cheerleaders from North Plainfield High School in New Jersey. One person called them genuine. Another person said she liked the story and the way it was presented.
From the back of the room, I received a warm greeting. “I’m from Duryea in Northeastern Pennsylvania. I like the film.” This special moment produced a spontaneous response from Rick. “Why does it take a visiting professor from 200 miles away to let me know I am teaching a student who was born and raised where I grew up?”
Another person admitted that she rarely thinks about the significance of 9/11 and Shanksville. The documentary helped her to better understand the need to think more about the events of that day and its consequences for her generation.
One student had very complimentary things to say about the documentary and this genre of film making. “You told us your intention was to entertain and inform us,” she said. “You did that tonight.”
Another student liked the musical selections in the film.
Not all of the feedback was positive. One
student made a hard landing on a metaphor used by one of the speakers in the film. Another student who lost a nephew on 9/11 expected more first person stories told by survivors.
The most earthy interpretation came from one of the last people to comment. He used strong language to express the anger he was feeling. He needed time to think and sort things out. “I won’t be able to tell you what I think until 8:30 tomorrow morning,” he said.
When I told him this was the highest compliment any documentary filmmaker could receive. He pushed himself back in his seat. His eyes opened wide, and a look of pleasant surprise covered his face.
If truth be told, documentary is all about evoking emotions and deeply felt reactions. If what is on the screen makes someone think, that’s about as good as it gets.
At 10:20 p.m., I asked the students and their teacher, Dr. Rick Ostopowicz, to assemble in the front of the room for a surprise. Then, I presented the National 9/11 Remembrance Flag to them for their school. Watching the smiles of satisfaction on their faces as they posed for a group picture is a frozen frame I will always remember from this visit.
Before we said our good byes, I asked the students to participate in an exercise I learned from my friend Professor George Parks at the University of Massachusetts. It was designed to help them identify their personal best.
The exercise worked, and the evening ended on a very positive note.
I spent the night in Rick’s guest room. Early the next morning we talked for a bit, made some plans for future visits, and then at 7:15 a.m. I headed home with a hundred different memories of the visit, the students, their teacher and the screening carefully stored in the safe deposit box of my soul.
As I drove north watching the traffic jams as thousands of people headed for Baltimore, I thought to myself how fortunate I was to be Rick’s teacher and friend, and how good it felt to be a visiting teacher in his classroom.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in traffic on a congested part of Rt.15 in Harrisburg. On this morning of reflection, I didn’t mind the delays. Eventually, I was back on the open road taking in the sun drenched scenery of the rural landscape of the Keystone state, and thinking about the 15 hours I spent in Catonsville.
Then it happened. 
I spotted an Amish farmer making his way on a wagon pulled by two horses. I stopped the car on the side of the road, and I took some pictures. For me, the pictures recorded a perfect end to a perfect trip. It helped to put everything in perspective.
In Shanksville, I met people who wanted to preserve the legacy of an important moment in our history.
In North Plainfield, New Jersey, I worked with students who went to Shanksville. While they were there, they discovered what it means to be an American.
In Catonsville, Maryland, the students and I were able to exercise our first amendment rights to assemble, learn and express our opinions without fear of reprisal.
On the farm bordering a blue lined road in Pennsylvania, two Amish men, two Amish children, their spotted dog, two horses and 72 containers of freshly picked carrots, spoke to America at its best. This compelling image tells us that ours is a country where everyone has a right to be who they are, do what you do, worship the God of their choice and feel the warm spirit of belonging.
Collectively, the images from my 15 hours in Catonsville prove beyond any question the validity of Dr. Stephen Post’s words: “America is the land of the free and the home of the good.”
They give truth to the advice of Steve Jobs, “The only way to do great work is to love what you do.”
I don’t know if I did great work in Catonsville. That’s for someone else to decide, but I do know I love being an old teacher in a new classroom.
Thank you Flight 93 for your valor.
Thank you, Dr. Rick Ostopowicz for the opportunity.
Thank you, students from the Community College of Baltimore for your time and attention.
Thank you, North Plainfield Cheerleaders for your thoughtful stories,
Thank you, America. We are blessed to be your citizens.
(Picture of the Catonsville 9 protest, modernhistorian.blogspot.com; picture of the Peoples’ Memorial in Shanksville, Kitch Mussari; picture of the Permament memorial in Shanksville, Frank Pizzani; all other pictures Tony Mussari, Sr.)
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Written by Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari Loftus Associates, LTD
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. Kevin Arnold The Wonder Years
Shortly after we returned from our final visit and
screening in Shanksville, Kitch and I received a very kind note. It began with these words:
I am still in a state of euphoria about the entire trip. Thank you for everything that you did this past weekend. I know that there was so much work involved, and that you both were exhausted by Sunday, but do know that every single person’s life was affected for the better. I will never forget it!
What did we do in Shanksville on September 24? It’s a fair question, and it has a simple answer.
We tried to teach a group of students from North Plainfield, New Jersey, what it means to be an American, what it means to reach up for the best edition of themselves, what it means to celebrate death in order to live a better life, what it takes to navigate the bumps in the road of life, and what it means to emulate what I like to call “the Shanksville Standard.”
Kitch and I met the students from North Plainfield on a bleak, rainy day at the People’s Memorial to the Heroes of Flight 93 in September 2009. Dressed in their bright cheerleader uniforms, the students were carefully placing American flags on each of the 40 Angels of Freedom. Instinctively, I knew there was something very special about these students and their thoughtful act of remembrance.
Since that day two years ago, North Plainfield has become like a second home for me. I enjoy working with the students. I admire the administrators, teachers and staff. I find the atmosphere in the high school to be infectious in all the ways that matter. Simply put, good things are happening in North Plainfield.
On this Saturday in September, we began our day with a visit to the permanent memorial. Then, we
drove to Shanksville where Sue Strohm and Chuck Wagner, Flight 93 Ambassadors, talked about their experiences at the People’s Memorial to the Heroes of Flight 93.
During the afternoon break, the cheerleaders visited the only privately owned memorial in the Shanksville area. In the peace and quiet of this renovated chapel, they left 40 American flags to honor the Heroes of Flight 93.
Kitch and I managed to find time to make our way to Ida’s Store. It is a gathering place 
at the entrance to the town. While we were sitting on the bench in front of Ida’s, we received a welcoming wave from an Amish woman and her husband as they made their way along Main Street to the farm where they live. It was a quintessential Shanksville moment.
Late in the afternoon, the cheerleaders returned to this town of 250 people. They joined friends, family, and former students for dinner. Watching out of the corner of my eye, I saw people talking, laughing, sharing and listening to the sweet sounds of camaraderie.
After dinner, we talked about life, death and everything in between. It was a teaching moment, and an opportunity to help the students tie everything together.
Earlier in the day, I asked the students and their
elders to think about the final moments of Flight 93. I asked them to think about what they would do if they were in a similar situation. A few members of our group shared their responses, and one person, Doug MacMillan, made it very clear that he did not know what he would have done. The honesty of his comment touched the heart of everyone in the room.
At the appointed time, we walked to the United Methodist Church for the screening of Shanksville, PA: A Place of Transformation.
Before the lights were dimmed, I shared two letters that celebrated Kitch’s courageous and successful battle with cancer. Then, I read an article I wrote on September 11, 2011, specifically for the screening. It is titled “Thinking About America.”
It began with these words.
Standing in this place where I have been nine times before, I am filled with emotions I cannot explain. It‘s a mixture of apprehension, exhilaration, gratitude, melancholy, and wonder.
On this day, we came here to celebrate death to learn about life. We came here to honor heroes who knew they were going to die. Heroes who refused to give up and give in. Heroes who used their final minutes of life to protect sacred national symbols and hundreds of people who would have died without their intervention.
The memory of their heroic revolt evokes admiration, affection and amazement. It also evokes anger, dismay and a kind of emptiness that eats away at my soul. It produces questions without answers and anguish without resolution.
“Thinking About America” ends with a challenge for the students from North Plainfield and Americans everywhere:
Ten years ago, we made a promise to tell the Shanksville story with dignity and class. For 3,650 days, we have remained true to that promise. In doing that, we have been changed in ways we never thought possible.
Today, Kitch and I look at our county through a different lens, and we measure ourselves and the people we meet against the “Shanksville
Standard.”
Do we have the courage to do the right thing?
Do we have the will to do the honorable thing?
Do we have the fortitude to do the difficult thing with grace?
Do we have the insight necessary to understand that service to others is more rewarding than service to self?
Do we have the strength to pick ourselves up when we fall, and move forward with hope?
Do we have the wisdom to remember the everyday heroes of Flight 93?
Will we live a life of “loving kindness?”
These are difficult questions. These are transformational questions. The answers to these questions are deeply rooted in the heart, not the mind.
These are questions that have a high priority in the North Plainfield School District. Shanksville PA: A Place of Transformation documents this in the words spoken by the students about their country. More importantly, it records it in the actions of the cheerleaders who are taught the significance of service to others.
With the familiar music of the opening scene of the documentary resonating off the walls of the church, I walked to the back of the room. In my mind, the words of the father of Greek tragedy summarized what the students were about to see:
“Memory is the mother of all wisdom.” Aeschylus
Digital photographs provided by Frank Pizzani, Skip Pulcrano, Chuck Wagner.
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Written by Pat Richel
When my friend Pat agreed to accompany me on the trip this past weekend, I worried that it would be
a long three days for her. I had often talked to her about your work, Kitch’s ordeal, and Skip’s cheerleaders when we were on the beach, but I still wondered.
From the first time we all met at the restaurant, Pat and I were made to feel so much a part of the group. Everyone who was there that weekend had an important connection to Shanksville. (Except us, of course.) Pat and I were also constantly amazed at everyone’s role in the total picture. We quizzed everyone and by the end of the weekend, knew so much about all.
I was deeply involved with the Twin Towers, because I knew someone who died, and also knew some survivors. My nephew was late going to work that day, and would have been a casualty if he hadn’t overslept. Our next door neighbor worked in a bank next to the towers. I was working at Montclair State University at the time and was on my way to teach a 1:00 P.M. class that day. Montclair is built on a mountain and the road on the way to the college gives a clear picture of the New York skyline. When I saw the towers and the smoke, I was sickened. Needless to say, I canceled classed when I arrived.
And so, though I was extremely saddened about what happened at Shanksville, the Twin Towers affected me more. That certainly changed this weekend! I learned so much and appreciate what everyone has done to keep the memory of those heroes alive. Each moment of the weekend was enlightening. Even if it made us cry. It certainly transformed two chubby Pats from New Jersey.
After speaking to the cheerleaders, I noticed that they were transfixed with all that went on, and they too, will never be the same. In my heart, I predict great things for all of them. They will make their mark on this world and everyone will benefit from it. I only wish that all students could have the opportunity to have a dose of the Mussaris and develop the "Shanksville Standard". How much better would our lives be?
My only hope is to make the documentary accessible. I know that it is not your purpose to commercialize it, but students and adults need to see it. I can’t wait to see it again.
My last thought is that I wish I had seen the old memorial with the angels, the flags, and the mementos. The new permanent memorial is cold and almost forbidding. Maybe that is just my opinion. Hopefully the wonderful, volunteer Flight 93 Ambassadors will make peoples’ visits more meaningful. The ones I met are prizes!
Thank you again for an unforgettable weekend. Pat and I are still talking about it and will continue for a long time to come.
(Pat Richel is a school nurse, a teacher and a breast cancer survivor. She Lives in New Jersey.)
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Written by Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari Loftus Associates, LTD
The eternal quest of the individual human being is to shatter his loneliness. Norman Cousins
I’ve been thinking a lot about our recent visit
and screening in Shanksville. It was a remarkable experience on so many levels, and I think I know the reason why.
The places we visited were special, but that alone does not explain it.
The weather was reasonable decent, but that was to be expected.
The cost was not prohibitive, but that has always been the case.
So what caused people to write such celebratory and kind words about the weekend? Words like these:
We could not stop talking about our experience this weekend. As always it was touching, respectful and beautiful.
It was an amazing weekend in Shanksville. This is your finest video. What a fitting way to end a ten year project.
My sister told me about her wonderful experience she had with you and your wife over this past weekend and I’m so happy that it was a huge success.
We want to thank you for an unforgettable weekend. It meant the world to us being there with you both.
I believe in my heart that people enjoyed this weekend because they felt a genuine sense of belonging and a genuine sense of community.
I experienced those feelings at our dinner for 14
at the Pine Grill. Just look at the smiles on the faces of the people, most of whom had just driven over four hours to get to Somerset, PA.
The feeling of community was palpable in the dining room of the Comfort Inn, in little gatherings at the permanent memorial, at the Methodist Church in the parking lot before Flight 93 Ambassadors Sue Strohm and Chuck Wagner made their presentation.
Outside the entrance to the Lutheran Church Recreation Hall before our community dinner people were laughing and smiling as they carried food into 
the building while others milled around to talk with one another and wonder if Bill Gaydos would ever arrive with his three blond friends.
So what was this sense of community that made us forget about all the things that bother us every day?
I think it can be best defined by identifying what was absent during this priceless weekend.
There was no anger, no alienation, no busyness, no contention, no confrontation, no hostility, no indifference, no loneliness.
What we had was a sense of equanimity, a sense of family, a sense of neighborliness, a sense of sharing.
There was no digital obsession. There was genuine face to face and heart to heart communication. We were talking, learning, sharing, caring and spending
time together.
We had common purpose and meaning tied into a desire to remember and a determination to think about, talk about, and show respect for people other than ourselves.
We were living and affirming what my friend George Parks said life is all about. Pariicipation. Someone wasn’t doing it for us. We weren’t watching it. We were doing it, living it and loving it ourselves.
We were giving testimony to the poetic words of Maya Angelou:
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
The snapshots we recorded document it. The pleasant memories we carried away with us are embedded on our 
souls, and these memories prove that we knew what to do with our time and with one another.
We were not alone together. There were no distractions, no diversions, no digital solitaire.
We were together, engaged and involved in something bigger than ourselves and that made all the difference.
We came to Shanksville on this September weekend to honor the heroes of flight 93. We came to this small town to remember with respect the men and women who gave their lives for our country after Spetember 11, 2001. We came to watch an artistic depiction of what America is at its best, and without knowing it or straining to do it, we built a community, a neighborhood, a family that reflects the best America has to offer.
To paraphrase the words of Dorothy Day, we brought the long loneliness of our lives to Shanksville, and like the men and women we came to honor, we discovered the answer to everything in life and death is community.
It doesn’t get much better than that.
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Written By Tony Mussari
Copyright 2011
Mussari-Loftus Associates
The Face of America Project
faceofamericawps.com
So what do you do when you’ve finished writing your book, and
you’re looking for someone to help you get the word out?
You Google “Getting National Publicity for Your Book,” and instantly the wizards at Google give you more than 4 million hits.
That’s what I did a few years back, and that’s how I discovered Steve Harrison. He was listed on the first page of the search with four separate opportunities. I willingly provided my contact information, and Steve obliged me with announcements and invitations to everything he has done since May 2009.
I participated in many of his internet events, and I have a file folder containing 4,080 marketing messages from Steve.
Recently, my best friend made it possible for me to attend Steve Harrison’s “Publicity Workshop” in Philadelphia. It was a generous gift for two years of work during the first phase of our Face of America project.
Before the workshop began, many thoughts ran through my mind. What would the event be like? Who would attend? What would I learn? Would I feel comfortable? Would Steve Harrison and his staff care about what I was doing, and would they be willing to help me?
Translated into more direct terms, as I approached the registration desk I was anxious, apprehensive and a little uneasy. My expectations were high. I was walking into the unknown, and that is always an uncomfortable experience. The staff members I met during registration were cheerful and pleasant.Steve Harrison was waiting for attendees as we took our seats in the large conference room at the Marriott Hotel at the Philadelphia International Airport. He was impeccably dressed in a business suit and tie. He was engaging, professional, polite, respectful and welcoming.
Steve Harrison is an accomplished businessman, consultant, speaker,
writer and advisor to many. For twenty years he has been at the top of his game in the information business. His style is corporate but relaxed. His temperament is patient but focused. His youthful looks and pleasant voice enable him to connect with his audience. He has the gift of teaching, and he is well organized. He is a good storyteller, and he knows his field.
More than once, I heard someone say, “He is moving at the right pace. I have no difficulty following him.”
Halfway through the morning session, I had an impulse to record my thoughts about the workshop. I flipped the yellow pages in my Ampad to the very last page. Once there, I scribbled seven notes:
These initial impressions were solidified and made stronger with each
session. In a magical way in a place far from home, a group of strangers from all over the country and several parts of the world became a tightly knit community of learners. When given the opportunity to speak, people spoke with conviction and passion about their projects, their ideas and their books.
When given an opportunity to share, they volunteered to share what then knew openly and freely with others. I know this in very real ways because I was the beneficiary of generous and thoughtful acts of kindness from several people. When I reached out for help with our Face of America project the response was positive, beautiful and humbling.
A woman from New Jersey offered help with social media. A woman from California and another from South Carolina offered housing if we were ever in the area. A lawyer from Pennsylvania offered help in a very specialized way, and very pleasant person from Arizona offered to help us make connections in his city.
If truth be told, virtually everyone in the room was offering and receiving similar acts of help and kindness.
One of my new-found friends put it this way: “I like the way people are focused outward, not inward.”
I like to think this is commonplace at Steve Harrison’s events, because in a very real way he has a unique ability to bring out the best in
people.
Don’t get me wrong, he is not some pie in the sky, feet off the ground Pollyanna. When all is said and done, Steve Harrison is a skillful businessman and as one of his employees said, “He is a great salesman.” Yet that’s not all he is. Both on and off stage, he is a man with a heart and soul. A man who wants to help others maximize their opportunities, and he has a proven track record of doing just that.
This was underscored in a powerful way when he shared the stage with Orrin Hudson. A former state policeman turned youth developer, Orrin is a chess master. He uses this skill to reach out to disadvantaged kids. In his 16-week chess workshops, Hudson has taught more than 10,000 students ages 16-19 how to be someone. Orrin Hudson is a big man with a big heart and an important mission. He is giving students hope one chess move at a time. At Steve Harrison’s publicity workshop, he reminded all of us what really is important in life, serving others.
When I was a youngster, my mother taught me an invaluable lesson with these 14 words, “Tell me who your company is and I will tell you what you are.”
For three days in July in one of the citadels of American liberty, I was in
the company of Steve Harrison and people who believe in his work. I was in the company of Orrin Hudson and his chess board. I was in the company of inspirational people from every section of America and three foreign countries who came to learn how to tell their stories in a convincing way.
During our time together, we watched a master at work, and we formed connections that lifted our spirits and made us feel good about our dreams, our passion and our work.
In the shadow of Independence Hall where our freedoms took flight, I was in the company of the Face of America on its best day. I was surrounded by people who gave testimony in action and deeds to what Cuban American Elisa Nelson expressed so beautifully, “America is a good place to be.”
It doesn’t get much better than that.
Thank you, Steve.
Thank you, Nancy, Dave, Geoffrey, Joe, Rich.
Thank you, fellow attendees, authors, entrepreneurs, project directors, teachers and friends.
Thank you, Mollie.
Thank you best friend, for making this magical experience possible.
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tmussari@gmail.com