On 9/11 the FDNY lost 343 of their own.
Not statistics. Sons, fathers, husbands from 75 firehouses across the five boroughs.
121 engine companies and 62 ladder companies answered the call. Every Rescue company in New York went in.
They knew the buildings were coming down and they went in anyway.
That’s who they were. That’s who we lost.
Never forget.
Tonight, the Empire State Building tower lights will turn to a pink sparkle at 9:25 to honor the late Dolly Parton.
Dolly was a global cultural icon whose seven-decade career reached generations of fans. Beyond entertainment, Dolly leaves a significant philanthropic legacy through the Dollywood Foundation and Imagination Library, which has provided hundreds of millions of books to children worldwide.
At Nine-Two-Five tonight, we celebrate her and her legacy 💖
Ahhhhh yeah. Feeling that Christmas spirit more and more each day. Here's a commercial that will definitely pull it the heart strings. Less than a week to go. 🎅🤶🦌🛷☃️🙏🇺🇲☕️🎄
and to think we only got this beautiful scene because rob reiner met his future wife during when harry met sally’s production and fell so in love that he changed the ending so harry and sally could end up together too. rip rob reiner and his wife michele :
Rob Reiner brought the absolute best out of my favorite actor ever, Jack Nicholson. A Few Good Men is a fucking classic- it might be Rob’s best film. It’s going to take a long time to process this loss. This is a really shitty way to end 2025. Just shocking & horrible.
Rob Reiner was one of the best comedic artists who had one of the most incredible film runs of anybody in our industry.
My heart goes out to his family and friends.
How I choose to remember him forever and always.
Human beings, Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle have been tragically killed today.
I am deeply saddened. Every life is sacred and given by God, our creator.
One of the most accomplished American directors who ever lived, his movies have been adored by generations, but I will remember him most for making me laugh my guts out with my Dad watching the greatest American tv show of all time, “All In The Family.”
I will be praying for his friends and family that they may find solace and peace.
"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.
Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.
Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."
So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."
Let this story reach more hearts....
Credit: Mary Nelson