Comments on Blog

Here are some comments from the last few years for my blog,

“Faced My Fears In Portland” will be published soon –

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From Crista – On ‘Remembering Marc’ – “I absolutely love this. It shows just how much of an impact Marc made in this world. It tells a story of who Marc is. Thank you for sharing this beautiful glimpse with us. I know Marc is so very proud of his strong and courageous mom” –

Rob R.   “Beautiful”

“Great post. Amen to fighting the divisive rhetoric of the Left!”  On the post “Living Thru the 5/29/20 protests in L.A.”

Cynthia – “Di, great job drawing the reader in with warmth, historical depth and beautiful description and painting the city of Portland setting up for special glimpse into Marc’s life and a mother’s profound love. Yes we want more!! Feed us the journey with your grace and elegant flare. You are a very talented writer.”  On “Preface from ‘Faced My Fears In Portland”

Stacey – “It takes courage to share your heart this way and be transparent about where you are and how you view God through your pain and loss. There is a purpose, Diane. You just might not know it for a while and all is revealed. Much love and lots of prayers!”

Jim Slone – “I have just tonight discovered your material via the Facebook writers forum we share. Your thoughts are amazing and I admire your tenacity and clear headed descriptions of subjects that are hard to think about, much less write on. I will keep reading.”

Silvana – “Thank you Diane for allowing us to be part of your story. Your courage helps us to cope with our losses, (so we) stop and reflect on the power of God and His comfort. We are not alone.”

“Dear Diane, it’s Emma, Corben and Piper’s mum from the school – Thank you for sharing your blog with me. I can’t imagine the pain you and your family have been through these past few years but I thank you for sharing your story, you are very courageous. I find your blog beautifully written and inspiring, despite its tragic subject matter. I think Marc would be very proud of you. I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts and prayers as you approach Marc’s birthday and anniversary. Thank you again, Emma”

“Wow, can’t wait to read it!” (Book) –  On “Chapter One”

Lisa Marie – “What about mental illness?”  (on post about need for police)

From Patti – “You truly inspire me. Your tragedy of the loss of your son would to me be unbearable. I know how grief lingers but you have risen above it and share with us your journey. You are so brave! Your words are eloquent and your message so important for others. Thanks, Diane.”

L. – “After your recent tweet about the Portland riot, I found your blog. I am so glad I did! You have a clarity of mind that is rare these days. (I wish you were my neighbor, so we could have coffee and talk more. )”

Angelina – “Keep writing and sharing. God bless!”

Aracely – “It’s beautiful to know that after all you went through you still have the capacity to love and forgive the persons who hurt the one you most love. Blessings Diane. ”  Re: “Article Day of The Murder”

Linda Marquez – “Thank you for telling us!!”  “Second Hardest Post I’ve Ever Written’ (re: Twitter and cancel culture)

Stephanie C. – “Stay strong Diane. God is with you and so are your friends who deeply care about you. Praying for you to feel Gods love and comfort.. xo”


7/13 – Update on Book “Face My Fears In Portland”

Keller Fountain, Downtown Portland –

Summer Greetings!

Faced My Fears In Portland” will be published soon! You’ll be able to find it on and most other book sellers sites like Walmart, Barnes & Noble, etc. It will be published in e-book form, paperback and hopefully soon in audio format. (There’s actually a good audience in audio books).

Writing a book takes longer than you might think. It’s not a romantic endeavor most of the time. I’ve had to wear different hats and learn to edit, publish, design, market, network.

The book covers the early posts in but also brings the story up to the present day. It’s a chronological telling of the homicide investigation and the challenges I went thru due to losing Marc. The defendants are mentioned, and as they’re still alive, I’ve decided not to reveal their last names, even tho that’s public record.

Marc with Rose –

I’ve always thought hard on how to portray the boys. I decided to continue sharing about them as the real life strong men they are  …. strong and frail …. like we all are. I’ve had enough personal interaction with both of them about many things. I was always amazed with their openness to me being we have this sad, tragic crime between us to remember all the time. They always welcomed my positivity (as Andrew would call it). There would be no sense in making anything up. I don’t write about the defendants to shame them, I actually share alot of painful, personal things about myself in the book.

The guys are lesser characters in my personal story. I enjoyed sharing their human sides. The story to me is more a love story. Of course, everyone has a little different take on what “love” means.

I know the defendants have contacts or family who read this blog, and are nervous about what’s in the book. I want to remind them my son’s case is public knowledge, and I’ve always tried to be honest yet gracious in my portrayal of their loved one. Authors are legally allowed to write their true life experience without outside permission, repercussion …. they can even make a movie out of their experience. (They’ve always been free to contact me on this site, if they have any questions. Comments are open to all)



1st Endorsements – “Faced My Fears In Portland”

Thanks to those who took time out of their busy schedules to read and comment on the story in my book, “Faced My Fears In Portland”.  It’s been so interesting working with a diverse group of friends and contacts. I wanted readers to get a fair representation of my story from the endorsements, to help them decide on the book’s content. I feel the story touches on a variety of human issues, and these endorsements and the next, are capturing much of the true spirit in the book.

The book will be in Amazon and other book sellers soon.

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I am a 20 year veteran of the NYPD My career began in the subways of some of the toughest neighborhoods in Brooklyn to the streets of South Jamaica Queens during the crack epidemic of the 80sI was assigned to the Emergency Service Unit dealing with the most horrific scenes one could imagine including 9/11 where we lost 14 friends in our Unit, and many more due to 9/11 illnesses since.

Keller Fountain, Downtown Portland, OR

Reading the gripping words from Diane De Han’s journey about the murder of her son Marc brings back so much trauma of what a loved one goes through when losing a child. Especially when that loss involves a violent crime such as Marc’s. When a police officer or a fireman dies in the Line of Duty there is an outpouring of support from co-workers near and far, unions, politicians, and communities. There are streets named after, anniversary memorials, scholarships in their names. When a parent loses a child to a victim of a crime that parent has to lean on loved ones, friends, the police investigators and the court system.
Far too often those support systems fade away as their lives or other crimes take over. No street named afterwards, no memorials, and sadly no scholarships. The longer an investigation takes the more hopeless it can be for those loved ones. Often times a family member can feel as though they are the only ones to care anymore if a crime is solved; they feel they are the only advocate for justice. But behind the scenes are usually hard working, determined detectives working vigorously to provide what little justice they can for the crushed hearts of people like Diane and others.
Diane gives us a sense of the nightmare she has lived through from the first phone call, to having to go though her son Marc’s belongings, to dealing with having to face this trauma with her ex-husband, surviving son and defendants. It is a nightmare we can close the book on but sadly Diane cannot. The book is extremely difficult to put down as we are taken on the roller coaster ride of her son’s murder and the fight for justice. In the end, Diane makes one grateful for each and everyday we have on earth with our loved ones.
Mark Chamberlain
NYPD Police Officer,
Retired, Emergency Service Unit

Publisher of “Faced My Fears In Portland”

Written straight from the grieving heart of a mother whose soul is renewed through the journey of forgiveness and new life. Diane De Han witnesses hope in the darkness and invites us to join her. Powerful!
Dana Hanson
author of Reboot: 70 Life Lessons with Dallas Willard
For many years, I’ve been an avid fan of true crime books. This is the very first time one of them has shown me such a shattering tragedy through the eyes of a parent. You can almost feel the steps Diane takes on her long pathway as she learns to live with the pain and implications of her son’s violent death.  This book is vivid and emotional, and reminds the reader over and over about how the bonds of love outlast all of us when we’re gone.
Joe Silverman, MD
Diane’s perseverance through unimaginable pain gives hope that with God’s help, healing is possible. Diane has an amazing story of forgiveness that will inspire, encourage, and help people heal.
Chris McKinney, Founder and Managing Editor,
Called Writers Christian Publishing
Author, “Calling All Writers!”

Summary of Book “Faced My Fears In Portland”


When I hear about a murder on TV, I frequently feel frustrated at how the news handles crime or violence. I wish the public could hear about crime with all its ramifications and not in snippets. We need references to crime based on reality, not shock value, sentiment, or political rhetoric in times of tragedy. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to share my and Marc’s story. I wanted to capture the multiple facets of human and community involvement in a homicide case.  I wanted to make human tragedy come off these pages and visit with you for a moment.

Whoever you are, I hope I’ve shared in this book that individual relationships are the sustaining hope we have in life, not tribes or politics. I simply wanted readers to know there’s more to a brief news story than meets the eye. Human lives are being affected in enormous ways, and it’s the strength of strong relationships that will get people through a personal crisis.  

I’ll never forget in the couple months after Marc’s murder, even when I was having PTSD and crying a lot, I could write in my blog and recall all the love I shared with Marc. I simply basked in the perfect knowledge that God allowed me to know and love this precious young man. That bubble of “love” we shared carried me for weeks. It sustained me with a deep, secret understanding of what real life was about. I felt free to talk about love in my blog, while others were mute and barely able to share what people meant to them.

The genuine tragedy in life is to go through it without ever having loved. It’s a sad fact that in this modern age many people are never touched by the miracle of love. It’s in every soul to desire the love of another. We think of God’s love as perfect too, but we need other humans. So, in this book I wanted to share not a tragic personal experience, but the triumph of love, for without that bond with Marc, there’d be no blog, book, or life for me.

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I like to give snippets of what’s in my book. I hope it helps you grasp what’s at the core of the story.  Will share more soon. Thank you for your continued support!

Preface to my book, “Faced My Fears In Portland”

Summer reading is here!

It’s not usual to write a book on a homicide, but this book is one such attempt. Publishing is moving along. After the book is published, I’ll be asking you to buy a copy, read it and send a review. Details will follow!

                                        “Faced My Fears in Portland”


This book’s been written with you in mind. I believe you’re the kind of person who’s always trying to sort through the tough issues of life. Many people would be turned off by a book centering on a homicide, but coming off a pandemic has prepared you for almost any topic.

This book is an extension of my blog  which I started soon after my son Marc was murdered in Portland, OR in October 2014. I originally wanted to write about the case to keep family and friends informed on its progress, but the writing ritual soon became a much-needed conduit that helped me deal with life and death issues of my own. I emerged from my son’s tragic death stronger than I’d ever been, and free from several deep fears I thought were just part of my makeup.

In these pages I’m seeking to dialog with you about human tragedy, because we’re all coming off some kind of pain due to the pandemic or some other matter. I’m writing so that those of you who are worried about our families and our nation can know there’s still much good in this world.  God is not out of the picture!

I’m hoping you’re a reader who’s open to looking at life in real terms, and you’re tired of hearing stories through rose colored glasses; and tired of hearing info that scares you out of your wits every day. My readers know we are in a state of flux in this nation and that a genuinely personal story is appreciated in times of crises. You don’t need to be part of any religion or political party to “get” the message in this book. This book will strike a chord in many of you!




*New – Intro to book, “Faced My Fears In Portland”

Are you tired of the confusion and frustration from a year of Covid? How have Americans dealt with national trauma in the past? Read this snippet and think for yourself.

Following is Part 1 of the Introduction to my new book, Faced My Fears In Portland.

 Introduction – Part 1

On November 22nd, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was riding in a limo along with the governor of Texas and their wives. As they wove along Dealy Plaza highway, waving to the public lining the street’s edge, President Kennedy was shot twice …. once in the neck, once in the head …. before slumping over towards his wife Jacqueline in the back seat.

The President was transported to Dallas’ Parkland Memorial Hospital Trauma Room 1, where reporters got fragmented bits of information on his condition. In stillness the public waited for some indication of how serious his injuries were. We went through a multitude of emotions, thoughts and reactions together as a people …. all because we honored our President and were deeply affected by the attack he suffered.

Picture I took of downtown Portland overlooking the Willamette River –

The tragedy stunned everyone in America and beyond! It never mattered most of us were from different political parties, races or religions. In 1963 Americans in general valued life too much to speak harshly of leaders and their wives who’d been attacked in broad daylight while the public watched. As we all kept our ears focused to the TV coverage we were “one people” with a common bond, we valued our leaders life and our national security! And, back then, unlike now, we trusted the somber, hushed tones of TV reporters and the few facts they could scrape together in their quest for accurate updates on our President.

On a flight to Portland, taking off from Sacramento, CA –

Do we have a populace now that’s as cohesive as that of 1963? Are we bound by a common respect for life and death like the majority were in 1963? Even a space alien would tell you ‘NO’.

Things have changed in a few decades. We’re living in a time where murder, and sadly mass murder or violence, is more commonplace in the news. As I write this in 2021, people from all races or beliefs are finding themselves befuddled and outraged by anarchist or Left leaning groups rioting and destroying central city businesses and neighborhoods when they want. Our national rhetoric is being steered in another direction away from the morals that upheld our nation for centuries.

Part 2 – Introduction, to follow –

Faced My Fears In Portland, to be published soon –

Preface For My Book

As my book nears completion and publication, will be sharing more info with you.  Here’s the PREFACE which tells prospective readers how the book came about and why they should buy it ~

                                 “Faced My Fears in Portland”                                                                                                     Preface

This book’s been written with you in mind. I believe you’re the kind of person who’s always trying to sort through the tough issues of life. Most people aren’t curious about a homicide, but you’re reading these pages, so you’re different.

I’ve wanted to have this conversation with you about crime because I believe America is at a crossroads and needs more discussion on the topic of violence. This book may help you evaluate what’s going on in our current cultural flux. We have traditionalists saying life has precious value and some on Twitter saying “cancel culture, write new norms”. This paradigm change needs to be resisted and met with a definitive reply!

There’s a dialogue going on inside you about crime, violence.  A few years back it used to be everyone had nightmares about being attacked by ‘Jaws’. Then our culture went through a period where people wondered how they’d deal with the threat of a mass shooter.  In this era of civil strife in some sectors, many of us are becoming immobilized by fears of riots, arson or worse in nearby neighborhoods.

I wrote this book to expand the story in my blog, which I started soon after my son Marc was murdered in Portland, OR in October 2014. I originally wanted to write about the case to keep family and friends informed on the progress, but the ritual soon became a much-needed conduit that helped me deal with life and death issues of my own.  I’ve shared what I went through that made my life more authentic than ever. I emerged from my son’s tragedy free from several deep fears I carried all my life.

Another reason I felt the need to share this story is that I felt it was urgent to show that the love between family members will remain the most important ones God gives in this world, and love will prevail even over violence and death.  I also wanted to share the kind of life that goes on behind the face of violence, so those who are worried about our families and our nation can know there’s much good in our families and cities.

Terry Schrunk Plaza, Downtown Portland. 2 blks from where I stay, spot where antifa gather often.

I’m hoping you’re a reader who’s looking for sanity for yourself, and our nation. You don’t need to be part of any religion or political party to “get” the message in this book. This story, I believe, resonates with anyone who has a conscience, and value for life ~

~   Diane M. De Han

Update on MJ Blog and Book

Update on my book and Marc’s Justice Blog!

I miss writing here! It’s always been my first love, but something had to give so I could finish the book.-

When I started Marc’s Justice  blog few years back, I was 2 months removed from the murder of my youngest son. I wrote to share the progress in his case. I understood a homicide wasn’t on everyone’s list of most desired topics to read but I just followed my hunch that enough people cared about what was going on with the case!

At first I sent out regular updates on the case, and more recently I’ve been writing on MJ Blog about cultural issues that concern me and others on Twitter. During the pandemic I set aside the book at times as I was disturbed by the riots, anti police activity, etc and wanted to write here on those topics. During my work closure I also took on a couple other projects that will coincide with the release of my book. They seemed to come together all at once so naturally.

To be frank, as a first time author, I was a bit naive in tackling a book. I didn’t know it would be so depressing to continually go back and rehash what happened to Marc, and go over my pitiful state. Also, when writing a book like mine there’s a time line to be researched again, and much “fact checking”.

Finding the best editor to work with was one of the best things that’s happened this year. It’s been a monumental learning curve as she’s required me to work hard at cleaning up my bad writing habits, but she’s so gracious.

Couple final things:

  • I’m in the middle of the editing process. Publishing should be in Jan/Feb ’21.
  • The tentative title is now, “Faced My Fears in Portland”.  While editing the book I had to break it down in themes, and realized it centers on facing fears, overcoming tragedy, more than on the case.
  • Thanks for the feedback on titles, I may use some of your words/terms on the cover.
  • Another reminder: Writing a blog is different from authoring a book. The tone, scope of each is unique to the platform. In this blog I take liberties and just write with my spelling, grammar shortcuts. I’m usually writing under stress, with a deadline and don’t want the hassle of long posts. I’m not caring to impress anybody. WordPress publishers is a little crazy sometimes too, doesn’t keep some settings, and reverts back to my former edits, which is frustrating. But, I’m not worrying about that now. This MJ site will be upgraded once the book is done.

Even though I began writing blogs about serious cultural issues like free speech, political deception or censorship these last few years, I’m still the same person I always was. I haven’t stopped remembering Marc and the legacy I’m left with.

Again, thank you all for staying with me on various platforms these years. Your love and support have meant more than more than you know –

A Daughter Lost, Starting Over After A Child Dies

Jayson Greene ( @Jayson_Greene ), authored a book on his family tragedy.  He and his wife lost their young daughter in a freak accident near their home in New York City. “Once More We Saw Stars” is one of those books you can’t put down. 

(Not Greta but a friends child, photo used w/ permission)

The excerpt below echoes the type of trauma I went thru as a parent who lost a child. Our stories differ at the onset but weave a similar narrative. The story in his book goes beyond tragedy and brings candor and grace to a tough topic. I welcome people who can talk of death frankly. I think you’ll like it.
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My daughter, Greta, was 2 years old when she died — or rather, when she was killed. A piece of masonry fell eight stories from an improperly maintained building and struck her in the head while she sat on a bench on the Upper West Side of Manhattan with her grandmother. No single agent set it on its path: It wasn’t knocked off scaffolding by the poorly placed heel of a construction worker, or fumbled from careless hands. Negligence, coupled with a series of bureaucratic failures, led it to simply sigh loose, a piece of impersonal calamity sent to rearrange the structure and meaning of our universe.

She was rushed to the hospital, where she underwent emergency brain surgery, but she never regained consciousness. She was declared brain-dead, and my wife and I donated her organs. She was our only child.
The incident was freakish enough to be newsworthy. Requests for interviews flooded our email while we still were at our daughter’s bedside; television trucks trawled Manhattan looking for us. When we left the hospital, I caught my daughter waving at me from the corner of my eye. A picture of her from my wife’s Facebook page was on the cover of The Daily News.
Over the next year, we became another local story about the quiddities of fate, the heartless absurdity of life in the big city. “Oh, you’re that couple,” a father said gravely when we introduced ourselves at a support group for bereaved parents. The attention was both bewildering and gratifying. We met couples whose children had died at home, in private, with only their shattered family to help them cope. There was succor to be drawn from all this awe and care, and I found myself leaning into it as often as I pushed it away.
Seven weeks ago, our second child was born; a son, Greta’s younger brother. They would have been exactly three and a half years apart. With his birth, I have become a father to a living child and a spirit — one child on this side of the curtain, and another whispering from beneath it. The confusion is constant, and in my moments of strength I succumb to it. I had a child die, and I chose to become a father again. There can be no greater definition of stupidity or bravery; insanity or clarity; hubris or grace.
Lying on the floor, talking to my son in soothing tones and jingling bright, interesting-looking things in front of his eyes, as I did with his sister, I yearn for him to feel his sister’s touch. Then I remember with a start: We were never going to have him. We always said Greta was enough — why have another kid? I gaze in awe. He wouldn’t exist if his sister had not died. I have two children. Where is the other one?
Becoming a parent is already a terrifying process. After a child’s violent death, the calculations are murkier. What does my trauma mean for this happy, uncomplicated being in my care? Will it affect the choices I make on his behalf? Am I going to give a smaller, more fearful world to him than I gave to Greta? Is he doomed to live under the shadow of what happened to his sister?
After Greta was born, my wife, Stacy, and I had a habit of checking to make sure she was still breathing. During that time, we ran into a fellow parent, a mother of two children, and Stacy made a nervous joke about it. The woman smiled. “They’re always breathing,” she said.
I imagine it’s the same for all parents. You begin to adjust to the reality of your child’s continuing existence. Their future begins to take shape in your mind. They’re always breathing, you tell yourself.
Life remains precarious, full of illnesses that swoop in and level the whole family like a field of salted crops; there are beds to tumble from, chairs to run into, chemicals and small chokeable toys to mind. But you do not see death at every corner, merely challenges. The part of you that used to keep calculating the odds of your child’s existence has mostly fallen dormant. It is no longer useful to you; it was never useful to the child; and there is so much in front of you to do.
At 2, your child is a person — she has opinions and fixed beliefs, preferences and tendencies, a group of friends and favorite foods.
What happens when that child is swiftly killed by a runaway piece of everyday environment, at the exact moment you had given up thinking that something could take all of this away from you?
When I am on the playground years from now, watching my son take a fall from the monkey bars, I might not panic. But some part of me will remember: A heartbeat can stop. Hearing a heartbeat for the first time during the ultrasound, and then watching doctors shine light on unresponsive pupils two years later, you stop thinking of a heartbeat as a constant, and more as a favorable weather condition. Now I am a reminder of the most unwelcome message in human history. Children — yours, mine — they don’t necessarily live.
When I realized Greta would not live, I wanted to die so purely, and so simply. I could feel my heart gazing up at me quizzically, asking me in between beats: “Are you sure you want me to keep doing this?” But I found I could not give the order.
Since my son was born, I’ve caught myself making concrete plans for my suicide if he were to die. I will draft a letter to my parents, or even tell them face-to-face. “I’m going to meet my children,” I will say. If the world takes this one, I am not meant to be here. It is a frightening thought because it is so logical. How would anyone argue me out of it? Who would even try?
I do not believe anything bad will happen to him in his infancy. It makes a sort of sense: Nothing bad happened to Greta as an infant. I do not wake up in the middle of the night to check on him. I do not even flinch when I hand him to others and watch them grapple awkwardly with his floppy neck.
Jayson Greene (@Jayson_Greene) is a senior editor at Pitchfork magazin


What Really Happened at Auschwitz


What really died at Auschwitz? Here’s an interesting viewpoint. The following is a copy of an article written by Spanish writer Sebastian Vilar Rodriguez and published in a Spanish newspaper. It doesn’t take much imagination to extrapolate the message to the rest of Europe – and possibly to the rest of the world.

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(My only Jewish photo)

I walked down the streets in Barcelona and suddenly discovered a terrible truth – Europe died in Auschwitz . . .
We killed six million Jews and replaced them with 20 million Muslims. In Auschwitz we burned a culture, thought, creativity, talent. We destroyed the chosen people, truly chosen, because they produced great and wonderful people who changed the world.

The contribution of these people is felt in all areas of life: science, art, international trade, and above all, as the conscience of the world. These are the people we burned.

And under the pretense of tolerance, and because we wanted to prove to ourselves that we were cured of the disease of racism, we opened our gates to 20 million Muslims, who brought us stupidity and ignorance, religious extremism and lack of tolerance, crime and poverty, due to an unwillingness to work and support their families with pride.

They have blown up our trains and turned our beautiful Spanish cities into the third world, drowning in filth and crime. Shut up in the apartments they receive free from the government, they plan the murder and destruction of their naive hosts.

And thus, in our misery, we have exchanged culture for fanatical hatred, creative skill for destructive skill, intelligence for backwardness and superstition. We have exchanged the pursuit of peace of the Jews of Europe and their talent for a better future for their children, their determined clinging to life because life is holy, for those who pursue death, for people consumed by the desire for death for themselves and others, for our children and theirs.

What a terrible mistake was made by miserable Europe .

Recently, the UK debated whether to remove The Holocaust from its school curriculum because it ‘offends’ the Muslim population which claims it never occurred. It is not removed as yet. However, this is a frightening portent of the fear that is gripping the world and how easily each country is giving in to it.

It is now approximately seventy years after the Second World War in Europe ended. This is being sent as a memorial chain, in memory of the six million Jews, twenty million Russians, ten million Christians, and nineteen-hundred Catholic priests who were ‘murdered, raped, burned, starved, beaten, experimented on and humiliated. Now, more than ever, with Iran, among others, claiming the Holocaust to be ‘a myth,’ it is imperative to make sure the world never forgets.

This is intended to reach 400 million people. Be a link in the memorial chain and help distribute this around the world.

How many years will it be before the attack on the World Trade Center ‘NEVER HAPPENED’ because it offends some Muslim in the United States? If our Judeo-Christian heritage is offensive to Muslims, they should pack up and move to Iran , Iraq or some other Muslim country.

It will take only a minute to pass this along. We must wake up America before it’s too late.

(Note:  Article from 10/16)