We have just observed the 18th anniversary of September 11, 2001, the day almost three thousand people left home going to work, to catch planes, or whatever else the morning required of them, never to return, many of them reduced to a cup full of ashes or just part of a limb by the kind of evil that can only originate in the depths of hell.

I will be 83 years old in October and will be the first to admit that, for the most part, the world has totally outpaced me, technologically, style wise, musically, and certainly insofar as what is and is not socially acceptable.

We are just finishing up a month-long run across America, East Coast to West Coast and back and, contrary to the dire warnings of Democratic politicians and their lap puppy sycophants in the media, who claim we are on the brink of a recession, conversely, what I saw was America at work, busy retail outlets, highways full of eighteen-wheelers and railroads with frequent, long, loaded freight trains moving raw materials and transporting finished goods to markets where demand is high.