Today's Small Town Soapbox is an audio clip. We don't have the rights to post it here, but for a while at least, it's posted on YouTube. Paste this link into your web browser to hear it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtCCvduQmQo

Please visit http://www.1061wngc.com/s/inside/moby/ to hear today's Small Town Soapbox, an audio tribute to the 9/11 victims.

Dear Moby, I wrote this poem on the first anniversary of 9/11 and as we approach the 10th anniversary, I wanted to share this. This is a day we will never forget. Yeah Baby! A SEPTEMBER TO REMEMBER We'll always remember that September day, As terror and hatred came our way. We'll remember how on that unforgettablle morn, Thousands of heroes were suddenly born We'll remember the heartfelt sounds, When another survivor was suddenly found. We'll remember how we joined together, To stand united and stronger than ever. We'll remember shedding each tear Over sadness, anger and fear. We'll remember searching for those lost, Never giving up whatever the cost. We'll remember how nothing was the same. Strangers were learning each others names. We'll remember how feelings were felt nationwide, Of love, freedom and American pride. We'll remember this day and it's story, Every time we turn to face "Old Glory" We'll remember that being American by birth, Is probably the greatest gift on earth. GOD BLESS AMERICA Phyllis Lance

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her, but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear voice strong.. 'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her. 'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked.. 'I mean really looked at your hands?' I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related this story: 'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak, have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.. 'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. 'They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. 'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. 'They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. 'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. 'They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. 'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. 'But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.' I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face. Treat everyone with politeness, even those who are rude to you -- not because they are nice, But because you are.

People have asked me about the President and Homeland Security's new immigration policy and how it would affect law enforcement. Unsecured borders, open invitations to illegal immigrants, and backdoor amnesty are issues that strongly impact our community. Unfortunately, we have heard very little from our members in Congress about this recent change. Anything you can do to help spread this word about the impact would be good. The President’s new policy regarding deportation of illegal aliens should not have any impact on the performance of my duties. I will continue to do what I have always done - enforce the laws, whatever they may be, equally among all people in Cobb County. The brunt of this new policy will be borne by the federal law enforcement authorities - primarily those officers patrolling our borders and those charged with removing offenders that have violated the law. Once again, the Department of Homeland Security and the Administration are choosing to selectively enforce our immigration laws. Additionally, they have continuously underfunded all immigration enforcement efforts. The implementation of this policy change is nothing more than extending an open invitation for more aliens to enter our country illegally -whether they are bringing in illegal drugs or simply looking for jobs. Immigrants, like many other people in this country, are facing challenges with unemployment because of the failing economy. In my opinion this Administration's change of policy regarding the enforcement of existing immigration laws is merely a political ploy to garner favor from the Hispanic community with the hopes of positively impacting the President's decreasing popularity in the polls. It seems their hope is to deflect attention away from the lack of jobs in this country to gain support from a special segment of voters. I guess they think that this policy of backdoor amnesty will improve the President's political standing with the Hispanic voters in next year's election. From my perspective, the President’s change of policy goes far beyond the concept of prosecutorial discretion. It is a blatant attempt to rewrite our immigration laws while bypassing Congress in the process. Not only is our economy in jeopardy, the foundation of our country and the rule of law are also in jeopardy. It is a sad state of affairs when elected officials selectively choose to enforce only those laws they agree with. As an elected official, the oath of office I took is a solemn vow. I will consistently and fairly enforce all the laws of this County and State as well as uphold the Constitutions of the United States and the State of Georgia - So help me God. Sheriff Neal Warren

The Buzzard: If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top. The Bat: The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkable nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself in the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash. The Bumblebee: A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists until it completely destroys itself. People: In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up! That's the answer, the escape route and the solution to any problem! Just look up. Sorrow looks back, worry looks around but faith looks up!

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?' 'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered. 'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked. 'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.' The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked. 'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.' The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book. 'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?' 'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.' 'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog. 'There should be a bowl by the pump,' said the man. They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree. 'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked. 'This is Heaven,' he answered. 'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.' 'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell.' 'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?' 'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

Good morning Mr. Moby, Please allow me to take a moment of your time. I am writing in regards to this morning's Small-Town Soapbox. I was driving in to work this morning when I heard the Soapbox and was compelled to write you. I am 32 years old and unfortunately some of my peers are the very ones you were speaking of this morning. I was TAUGHT to love America. I was TAUGHT to respect this country and those who serve. I was TAUGHT to stand with pride when the Star Spangled Banner plays. I was TAUGHT to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. My paternal grandfather served in the Army during World War II. When the war was over he came home, worked his little farm, took a factory job and raised my father and aunt. THAT'S America! My maternal grandfather served in the Navy during the Korean Conflict, at one point being captured and subsequently rescued by those fine sailors on the USS Missouri. When that "conflict" was over, he came home, took whatever job necessary to provide for his family, tended his little farm, and raised my mother and her brothers and sisters. THAT'S America! I currently have seven neices and nephews who range in age from 8 months to 10 years. They are TAUGHT to love America. They are TAUGHT that they are blessed by God to be living in the greatest country in the world. They are taught to rise (and be quiet) when the Star Spangled Banner is played. They are taught to stand and cover their hearts while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. They are taught to know that the freedoms that they enjoy cost some dear person their life on a battlefield far from home. All 7 are reminded that the great-grandfathers that they were not fortunate enough to have known are part of the reason that they have the freedoms, rights and liberties that are so often taken for granted. I proudly serve my community as a police officer. I live in a medium size town in South Georgia. I thank God for the opportunity to live in America. I may not ever make a huge difference but I can hope that something I do has some type of positive impact for someone. Thank you for your time, Dawn Tillman