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Silverfoxesclub-digest In this issue:
-Eleanor Roosevelt and Anne Frank (2)
---------------------------------------------------------------------- A couple of days ago, Bob and Harley wondered on the list whether or not Eleanor Roosevelt had once translated "The Diary of Anne Frank" into English. They seem to have heard this somewhere. I researched this question exhaustively on the Web and came up with zilch. Undaunted, however, I fired off an e-mail to the Anne Frank Center in New York and asked them about it. They very kindly replied today, to wit:
"----- Original Message ----- Mrs. Roosevelt wrote a forward to an edition which was translated from the Dutch by B. M. Mooyaart-Doubleday. It is now a Bantam Edition published by arrangement with Doubleday, ISBN Number 0-553-29698-1. We carry this edition which costs $5.00 plus $3.50 for shipping if you can't otherwise locate it."
So there's your answer, Bob, and Harley:
woof woof. Well, Harley wants to thank you very much, sweet Ben, and so do I. So eleanor wrote the introduction. I knew I had heard her name in connection with Anne Frank's diary. I am ashamed to admit I never read the diary, and am going to call the library for the blind and find out if they have it on tape or in braille. I'm sure they do. Had you read it, Ben?
Hugs,
NOTE from Ben Boxer: A farewell salute Thousands of fellow law officers and ordinary citizens bid Officer Lois Marrero farewell.
St. Petersburg Times, TAMPA -- The police officer stood in front of the draped coffin, holding in the palms of his gloved hands a black silk sash. The words "Officer Lois M. Marrero 2001" were emblazoned in gold. Another officer in the back of the church walked forward. His hands gripped a pole holding the Tampa Police Department flag. Two dozen silk sashes, stitched with the names of the department's 24 officers killed in the line of duty and the years they died, cascaded from the top. They clasped Marrero's sash to the tip of the flag, joining her name with those of her fallen comrades. Outside, rain began to fall. It was an emotional tribute Tuesday morning for Marrero, a 19-year veteran gunned down by a bank robber Friday. More than 700 people filled Sacred Heart Church to grieve with Marrero's family and friends. Most were Tampa police officers who squeezed into pews, shoulder to shoulder, their hats in their laps, tears flowing. When every open space was filled, those who could not find a seat in an overflow room stood in the back. Outside, thousands of police and fire officials from more than 30 agencies across the state stood in the rain, listening to the service over speakers and waiting to take part in a procession to the cemetery that would stretch more than 5 miles. "Because of the sacrifice of Lois and her predecessors, the world is a little better, a little safer," the Rev. Joseph Diaz told mourners. "There is more to Lois' journey than this short life on Earth. She's walking a new beat now." Marrero was ambushed last week when she confronted bank robbery suspect Nester DeJesus in front of a south Tampa apartment complex. She became the first female Tampa police officer killed while on duty. It was a tragic end to the life of a tenacious cop respected by peers for he r dedication and attitude. Marrero's memorial service began when a bagpipe wailed I See the Hill, and her casket, covered in an American flag, was carried into the church. Members of the Police Department honor guard, on which Marrero once served, escorted red-eyed members of her family, including her companion, Mickie Mashburn, to their seats, just a few feet away from her coffin. They wore round pins on their shirts with a color photograph of Marrero that had been snapped at a happy time. Marrero, 40, was remembered during the 90-minute service as a spunky officer who loved children, made friends easily and defended her beliefs until the end. Chief Bennie Holder said he found comfort in his friendship with Marrero, an officer he fired in 1997. Marrero sued and got her job back, but was stripped of her rank as sergeant. "Through all the controversy, that friendship remained there," Holder said. "I'm at peace, because I know Lois died in peace, because that friendship is still there. It will always be there. So I share your pain." Marrero's casket was taken to a hearse outside the church where waiting officers smartly saluted. Motorcycle officers led the procession to the cemetery as clutches of residents gathered by the roadside to watch the slow-moving river of patrol cars, their lights flashing under a darkening sky. At 11:27 a.m., the hearse traversed 40th Street, a block from the cemetery, and was met with the salute of a 34-year-old school bus driver. "My dad was a cop in Jamaica, so it touched home," said Lorraine Muirhead, the woman standing at attention. She wiped tears from her eyes. Nearby, Elizabeth Simpson held a billowing American flag and a handmade sign. "God Bless Officer Marrero and God Keep All Officers Safe," it read. Simpson, 37, met Marrero 10 years ago when she came to her house to investigate a burglary. "We had a rottweiler that didn't like anybody," Simpson said, "and (Marrero) put her hand over the fence and petted her. She was the only one who could ever do that. The dog must've sensed something good about her." The cruisers rolled on: Metro-Dade, Clay County, Marion County, Winter Haven. Seminole County, Brevard County, St. Petersburg police -- the patrol cars kept coming and coming. It took an hour for them all to pass by. Bob Masters, a trucker for 35 years, stood erect with cap in hand. He had mounted tiny American flags with masking tape atop his pickup truck. "It's too many of them lost," Masters, 61, said quietly. His eyes were moist. "It's a job I wouldn't do." The last scene like this was in 1998, when murdered Tampa police detectives Randy Bell and Ricky Childers were buried. Before the procession made its way to Myrtle Hill Memorial Park, Tampa police Cpl. Steve McDonald watched silently as three diggers prepared his comrade's final resting place, in the shade beneath a stand of oak trees. Her simple bronze plaque, with only her name written on it, leaned against a tree. Her family chose the plot Saturday. "She was a good officer," said McDonald, who once served with Marrero in the department's honor guard. "She'll be missed." At the front of the mausoleum area where the burial service was held, dozens of flowers lined the wall. There were bouquets from the Florida Highway Patrol, the widows of Childers and Bell and the Crossings apartments, where Marrero was shot. The rain, which had been falling about 30 minutes, cleared as the motorcade arrived at the cemetery. About 70 motorcycle officers pulled into the cemetery, riding two by two, their lights flashing, their engines roaring. More than five miles away, the tail end of the procession was still waiting to leave the church. "Wow," Sgt. Jose Penichet said. "That brings chills." As Tampa police officers lined the sidewalk, bagpipes played and a riderless horse led the way. Marrero's family filed out of white limousines, still wearing their buttons with photos of Marrero. A 21-gun salute went off, followed by the lonely sound of taps and Amazing Grace on bagpipes. Holder presented a folded American flag to Mashburn, then Marrero's father, William Marrero. He said a few words and hugged them both. Overhead, four helicopters appeared in the sky. As they passed over the cemetery, one trailed off in the maneuver known as the missing man formation. Afterward, the family walked about 200 yards to the burial plot beneath the trees for a private service, past the grave sites of slain officers Bell and Childers. Donna Bell, Randy Bell's wife, waited by her husband's grave, awash in memories. "It seems so strange to be on the other side," she said, remembering the 1998 death of her husband. "I didn't think it would happen this soon. But it was good to see people lining the streets. You don't think people care, but some still do." At Marrero's grave, the Rev. Paul Osterle assured them Marrero was with God. Then, as Marrero's cherry wood-finish casket was lowered into the ground, and her family broke into sobs, a dispatcher read the final radio call to Marrero over all local police frequencies: All units stand by. Radio to Badge 327. Calling Badge 327. Do I have Officer Lois Marrero on frequency? No response. Units be advised, Badget 327, Officer Lois Marrero, is 10-7 (out of service) for the remainder. She will never be forgotten. May she rest in peace and God bless. As the family walked away, Mashburn sprinkled a handful of dirt into the grave and whispered a few last words to the woman she loved, the one lying peacefully inside the casket, clutching in her hands the sergeant's stripes that once had been taken from her.
- -- St. Petersburg Times staff writer Amy Herdy contributed to this report.
The URL is http://nakednews.com/ End of silverfoxesclub-digest V1 #301
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