It was 7 years ago when my son-in-law and my daughter kissed goodbye and went off to the work, watching --from the street nearby-- the puzzlement of the first World Trade Center Building on fire. I wouldn't hear from Adrianna until she was finally able to get through on a cell phone, walking home across the Brooklyn Bridge. "The City's on fire, Daddy," she told me, hardly knowing what was going on. I cried at work, finally hearing from her. She was working near the World Trade Center. Not long before the attack I'd taken her and some of her friends to Happy Hour at Windows on the World. Cheap drinks and an impossibly unbelievable view. Now she works at towering Rockefeller Center, another icon of NYC, which leaves me feeling very, very anxious. Instead of removing our shoes when we want to get on a plane, wouldn't it be so much better if we stopped doing the things that make people hate us so? I know you never get rid of all the haters, but can't we just give peace a chance? Frank