To remember and honor, that's why I chose to participate. I read another blog, the happy catholic and was intrigued about this project to honor 911 victims. I went onto the website and clicked on the button to take me to the victims that still needed bloggers. What I received was a cry of the heart, names, scrolling down, as if looking up at me, longing for expression. I looked at all the names and travelled down the list, my eyes still, my heart taking in the people behind the names. As I looked upon the names I began to recognize the importance and the deep commitment that it took to give these names a face, a story, a remembrance. I debated whether or not I could be a part of this process. To be honest, I didn't think that I wanted to make the commitment, too much responsibility, too much stepping out of my comfort zone. One name struck at me. It was a woman's name, long, latino in origin, (if I remember the name, I will write it), it struck me because it was such a long name. I clicked on it. She was a mother, and her country of origin was El Salvador. I broke down and cried. I'm from El Salvador. I had no idea that there was someone from my country who had died in this tragedy. I felt at that moment that I needed to do this, I took it as a sign from this name to participate. Everyone needs a voice, and even when we are gone, our hearts still beat in the world. They give us power, desire and a dense need to express love and community. I wanted to get her. This woman who seemed to have reached out to me, she was like me, we already had something in common. I wanted a commonality. I found difference and what a gift that was.
I was blessed with the opportunity to honor Michael Morgan Taylor (Mike or otherwise known as Mouse). He was different than I. I worried, as I felt no commonality. He was a man, number one, a bond trader at Cantor Fitzgerald (please forgive me all bond traders, but I have no idea what that is). He's from Western Pennsylvania. I've never been there. For a moment I thought, what am I going to do? I have no point of reference from which to begin. Then I softened. I allowed myself to see Michael M Taylor. I looked at the picture on the site, letting go of preconceived notions of who, how or why. I let myself open to know him. As I gazed on his face and his huge smile (this was the picture I saw first) I found comfort. I committed myself to knowing. I followed all the links that I could for Mike. I read, quickly, as an overview. I knew that there was much more to Mike than what I read. Would I be able to say enough? And then, the angels began to appear. John Davies, Mike's friend from 2nd grade reached out to me. He was kind enough to share some stories of Mike (Mouse, his nickname), and he began to come alive to me. Then Mike's sister Mary Kaye contacted me. Just the fact that she did helped me settle. I am a sister. I have two brothers. I know. So, from my heart, here goes...
Honoring Mouse

From the get go it seemed to me from what I have read about Mike, he knew his preferences, his values, his loves, his interests and most definitely who he wanted to be, not what he wanted to be, but who he wanted to be.
Little things made him happy, the simplicity of one liners ("One of his golfing buddies asked him 'Mike, where you been all summer?' and he replied 'Iâ ve been in love.' *), the desire to refine a golf game ("He scored the best round of his life over the Labor Day weekend, shooting a 73." *That was the last weekend his parents got to see their first-born child.), the thrill of computers ("for Mouse, not being technical was a hanging offense" ***), the loyalty to a basketball team ("Boy, did he love Duke basketball. He rarely missed a televised game" *), and ahhh, the exquisite taste of fine wine ("One way to know Michael M. Taylor is to consider the eight-inch stack of index cards he dutifully prepared after deciding to get serious about wine. On the cards he recorded his impression of every bottle he