Under
every
Christmas
Tree,
in
every
household,
tucked
in
a
quiet
corner,
rests
a
special
Holiday
package
that
can
change
the
lives
of
all
who
wonder
what
they
can
do
to
fight
Terrorism
and
protect
themselves
from
its
horror,
its
insidiousness.
It
is
simply
wrapped
in
plain
paper
It
doesn't
stand
out
as
other
Holiday
packages.
It
doesn't
glitter
or
gleam
or
sparkle.
It
is
a
quiet,
unassuming
package
that
can
be
easily
overlooked;
gone
unnoticed
in
the
madding
Holiday
fervor
where
spirits
become
intoxicated
by
shiny,
gaily
wrapped
gifts
begging
for
attention.
This
package
is
patient.
It
has
been
resting
in
the
same
spot
for
many
months;
in
some
cases,
many
years.
Its
wrapping
is
dusty,
tattered
due
to
much
neglect,
much
oversight.
It
assumes
no
sparkling
presence.
It
seeks
no
notice,
for
it
is
what
it
is,
without
attempting
to
be
more.
It
doesn’t
scream:
“Open
Me!”
It
has
been
waiting
to
be
opened
so
long,
people
who
pass
it
by
don’t
see
it
any
more.
They
have
allowed
it
to
become
part
of
the
wall
or
the
floor,
ignoring
or
blind
to
its
individuality,
its
privacy,
its
singleness
of
purpose
and
the
power
and
magnificence
of
what
it
contains.
Today,
however,
after
all
the
other
presents
are
opened
on
Christmas
Morning,
2001,
the
package
seeks
to
be
recognized.
It
vibrates.
It
throbs.
It
seems
alive.
It
can
no
longer
wait
to
be
noticed,
to
be
opened.
It
bounces
and
rattles
and
thunders
from
within
so
that
no
one
can
ignore
its
presence..
Families
all
over
America
gather
around
it,
curiously
discovering
that
which
has
been
there
all
year,
every
year,
for
as
long
as
they
can
remember
now
that
they
recognize
its
existence.
A
feeling
sweeps
among
those
gathered
in
a
circle
staring
at
the
package--it
like
that
which
magnetically
draws
the
salmon
to
its
original
spawning
grounds,
driving
it
to
swim
across
oceans,
into
the
mouth
of
river,
and
battle
its
way
up
streams,
over
falls
and
the
hungry
mouths
of
grizzlies
fattening
themselves
up
for
winter,
to
seek
its
treasured
birthplace
where
it
will
spawn
future
generations
and
preserve
the
balance
of
life
over
death.
This
primal,
yet
spiritual
communion
with
the
package
passes
from
the
children,
to
the
parents
and
on
to
the
grandparents
who,
as
a
collective
union
of
humanity,
represent
over
two-hundred
years
of
life
lived
and
yet
to
live.
This
unified
body
forms
a
ring
around
the
package.
Some
kneeling
or
stand,
others
sit
and
wait
for
the
package
to
stop
its
motion.
Slowly,
as
it
settles,
from
inside
comes
Voices
calling
to
the
children,
the
mothers,
the
fathers,
the
grandparents,
the
cousins,
the
nephews,
nieces,
uncles
and
aunts
and
loved
ones
who
knot
themselves
around
the
unassuming
gift.
At
first
the
sounds
are
muffled.
People
cock
their
heads,
straining
to
comprehend
the
strange
cacophony
humming
from
its
hidden
contents.
Gradually,
the
Voices
rise
and
become
intelligible.
It
is
a
choir;
a
mixture
of
men
and
women,
young
and
old,
from
all
different
lands,
languages,
backgrounds.
They
are
singing.
A
child
who
is
observing
the
package
and
not
afflicted
by
the
fear
or
reservation
that
bind
the
adults,
fearlessly
reaches
for
the
package.
She
hoists
it
up
above
her
head
before
anyone
can
stop
her,
displaying
it
to
the
group.
She
turns
it
over,
examining
it
curiously.
Her
brother
joins
her.
Together,
they
kneel
and
brush
away
the
dust
that
has
collected
on
its
surface
and
begin
to
respectfully
unwrap
it.
The
littlest
child
crawls
to
them
to
join
in.
They
urge
the
other
family
members
to
help.
The
process
is
slow,
for
there
is
reverence
about
the
package
that
keeps
them
from
ripping
and
shredding
the
paper
to
devour
its
contents
as
they
had
previously
to
the
other
presents.
Large
and
small
and
tiny
hands
take
their
turn
at
exposing
its
contents.
Unveiled,
the
family
gazes
at
a
simple
wooden
box,
made
of
pine,
unfinished.
A
glow
emanates
from
with
as
the
children
lift
the
lid.
At
first,
it
seems
empty,
but
the
Voices
inside
rise
in
timbre
and
the
light
shining
out
begins
to
strengthen
its
intensity.
a
hush
falls
over
the
gathered.
The
radiant
light
begins
to
shine
as
though
a
handful
of
the
sun’s
might
and
power
had
been
stuffed
deep
within
and
now
has
come
to
life.
The
light
swirls
around
the
room,
driving
shadows
from
every
corner,
touching
those
assembled
with
a
warming
strength
that
penetrates
their
marrow.
The
fearless
children
reach
into
the
light
and
extract
a
card.
Sunlight
dances
upon
their
faces,
washing
them
in
a
golden
glow
as
they
open
the
card
and
read
the
words
scribed
within—“This
Is
Your
Gift
Of
Vigilance—Use
It
Well!”
Eager
to
examine
the
gift,,
the
children
dig
into
the
box.
First,
they
extract
a
single
rock.
Chiseled
in
it
are
the
words:
“Semper
Vigilantes”
“What
does
that
mean,
G-Pa?”
asks
the
youngest.
“It
is
Latin
for
“Always
Vigilant,”
the
grandfather
replies.
The
children
reach
in
again,
their
innocent
fingers
buried
in
the
brightness
of
the
light.
One
pulls
out
the
word
“Courage”
inscribed
on
a
piece
of
parchment.
Another
extracts
a
similar
piece
of
parchment
with
the
word
“Conviction”
scribed
on
it,
and
the
smallest
child
pulls
out
one
that
says
“Action.”
The
mothers
and
fathers
and
grandparents
and
relatives
kneel
by
the
children.
The
mother
is
compelled
to
reach
in
and
extract
the
final
piece
of
paper.
She
pulls
it
out
and
slowly
reads
it
to
the
family
huddled
around.
“We,
the
victims
of
the
Terrorist
attack
on
September
11.
We
offer
you
this
Gift
of
Vigilance,”
she
reads.
“We
gave
our
lives
to
protect
you
from
FEAR,
INTIMIDATION
and
COMPLACENCY.
These
are
the
three
weapons
Terrorism
uses
to
drive
us
away
from
our
sense
of
security,
to
break
our
trust
and
faith
in
ourselves,
and
destroy
our
resolve
as
one
people
to
stand
up
against
them.
We
offer
you
these
three
Shields
of
Vigilance
to
protect
yourselves
and
your
family
from
future
harm.
We
have
not
died.
We
stand
as
one,
Vigilant
Body,
unified
in
death
and
life,
to
help
you
protect
your
children,
and
all
other
families
and
children
throughout
the
world,
from
Terrorism's
grasp..
We
are
the
Sentinels
of
Vigilance.
We
ask
you
to
become
Parents
of
Vigilance.
To
use
Courage
rather
than
Fear,
Conviction
in
place
of
Intimidation,
and
take
Action
to
keep
Complacency
at
bay.
We
will
watch
over
all,
but
we
ask
you
to
remind
yourselves
we
died
for
you...for
we,
like
you,
were
Parents
of
Vigilance.
Now,
we
live
on
to
remind
you
to
never
forget
to
protect
your
children,
and
their
children's
children,
from
any
and
all
of
Terrorism's
attempts
to
cripple
their
spirit,
or
demean
their
existence."
A
hush
fell
as
the
mother
clutched
the
children
close.
Then
she
read
the
message
again.
In
the
background
the
choir
of
Voices
from
within
the
box
sang
as
she
did,
a
chant,
clearly
making
the
words,
"Semper
Vigilantes--Always
Vigilant"
clear
to
all
who
were
gathered.
"I
vow
to
become
a
Parent
of
Vigilance!"
the
mother
said,
rising
from
her
knees,
passing
to
each
of
the
family
members
the
words
"Courage,"
"Conviction,"
"Action."
"I
vow
also,"
said
the
father.
"And
me
too,"
said
a
cousin.
"And,
I
will
also,"
the
grandparents
said
in
unison.
"And
me"
chimed
a
child.
"I
will
be
a
Child
of
Vigilance."
And
so
it
went
around
the
circle,
uncles,
aunts,
cousins,
loved
ones,
vowing
to
fight
Terrorism
with
Courage
rather
than
Fear,
Conviction
as
opposed
to
Intimidation,
and
Action
overpowering
Complacency.
"We
are
now
united,
in
death
and
life,"
said
the
mother.
"We
have
the
greatest
present
possible--Vigilance."
And
the
box
began
to
hum,
as
though
an
engine
of
strength,
waiting
for
when
its
contents
needed
to
be
employed.
The
family
placed
the
box
on
the
mantel
so
the
single
appointment
on
it
could
be
seen,
the
logo
of
the
letter
"S"
connected
to
the
letter
"V,"
and
above
it,
the
words:
"Semper
Vigilantes!"
