5 November 2001:

September 11, my daughter was one of those ash-covered ghosts walking out of New York’s financial district following the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. November 4, 2001, I was running the flag across the country.

I had been to Ground Zero and saw the destruction for myself. I was moved to tears by the outpouring of grief and support for both the victims and the rescuers - the flowers, photos, remembrances and personal vignettes - and came away resolved to do what I could to support the effort to see that this does not happen again.

Socorro, New Mexico, 75 miles south of Albuquerque, is one of those little towns that you whiz past on the Interstate, maybe stopping for gas or a hamburger or the bathroom. Originally a stop on the railroad line, it has seen better days. But with the addition of adobe houses and the green chile on your food, it is Smalltown, USA.

The flag arrived just after noon and was received by the local Boy Scout and Cub Scout troops at the bandstand in the town’s plaza. After a few informal words from the mayor and the singing of God Bless America and the National Anthem, everyone wanted to hold the flag and walk it around the plaza.

Our group was assigned to run the flag from Socorro to Magdalena, New Mexico, about 26 miles climbing out of the Rio Grande Valley to an elevation of 6,540'. It dawned on me that I had never carried the flag before - for anything. And yet here it was. Running with me was an American Airlines pilot from Miami who had come to New Mexico just for the Flag Run. He knew one of the guys on one of those planes that went down.

Townspeople came out to cheer and wave. Truckers saluted us with their horns. People stopped their cars to take pictures. We were both awed and very moved.

West Central New Mexico is extremely rugged, both in its mountains and its awe-inspiring emptiness. The remains of an old railroad line could be seen off to the side of the road and here and there were the remnants of someone’s failed attempt to scratch a living out of this hard land.

Magdalena is an old, weathered place once made prosperous by mining and cattle. A substantial structure in the center of town says “Bank” in the brick facade but is now a café. Up in the mountains is the ghost town of Kelly, whose silver mines were once some of the most prolific in the world.

Although it was dark, the streets were lined with what appeared to be a substantial portion of the town’s residents. We handed off the flag to local police officers and sat down to eat at a huge buffet of home-made chile and stew and tamales and tortillas and apple cobbler set out in the town’s livestock show barn as the flag was passed from hand to hand. Nearby, the town’s oldest veteran danced to the music of a fiddle and guitar. Outside, the constellations shimmered in the dark night sky, unhindered by city lights.

John Farrow
RRCA New Mexico State Rep

nm.magdalena.01.jpg 86.3kb	nm.magdalena.02.jpg 99.0kb	nm.magdalena.03.jpg 59.5kb	nm.magdalena.04.jpg 69.3kb	nm.magdalena.05.jpg 38.9kb	nm.magdalena.06.jpg 43.4kb
nm.magdalena.07.jpg 77.6kb	nm.magdalena.08.jpg 83.0kb	nm.magdalena.09.jpg 82.0kb	nm.magdalena.10.jpg 128.2kb	nm.magdalena.11.jpg 61.9kb	nm.magdalena.12.jpg 95.6kb

Click on the Links Below to Visit Our Sponsors Registered Event Promoters