1. Class of 9/11
They were freshmen when the world changed, now
they’re almost graduates
May 2005
By Rasha Aly
rashaaly@sanduskyregister.com
SANDUSKY -- When this year's graduating class started out as freshmen in August 2001, they could never have
fathomed the day that would change a nation was less than a month away.
Then one morning somebody rushed into Jacy Sander's third-period classroom at Sandusky High School and turned
on the television.
The events of Sept. 11, 2001, unfolded before her and her classmates' eyes.
Those next few hours made an impression on their lives they will never forget.
"September 11 opened our eyes to the vulnerability of the country. ... We see (the country) as strong and powerful,"
said Danielle Gant, a senior at Sandusky High School, during a group discussion Thursday for about 10 SHS
seniors.
The day became even more confusing for SHS freshmen as they tried to piece together what happened from
television and radio news reports and bits of teachers' conversations they could pick up.
They understood there was an attack, the students remembered.
They did not understand the extent until later.
When she got home, Haley Flohr, another senior, locked all the doors.
"I was scared when I went home," she said. "I didn't know if it could happen again."
Other students felt helpless. During his midday lunch break, Kyle Reisterer said he did not know how he could help
those in New York while he was in Sandusky.
"What could we do except go to lunch," he said.
He added he was more concerned about larger cities being targets than Sandusky.
The media became an important tool for the students.
Reisterer said he watched CNN all week, listening to all the details. Michelle Surdyk read a book about
Afghanistan, hoping to learn more about the country and the culture. Others pored over newspapers.

2. At St. Mary Central Catholic School, Stephanie Boone was learning algebra, when "one of the teachers ran into our
classroom and had said a plane had hit the twin towers... We didn't even know what the twin towers were."
When the plane hit the Pentagon -- that was when she felt frightened, she said.
The event caused her to see the bigger picture.
"As a freshman, I'm worrying about what boy likes you or not," she said. "Then it really hit me. This is a big deal."
She lost faith in the U.S. government, she said when she discovered leaders may have ignored warning signs that an
attack was coming.
"You think about who you can trust," she said. "Why was it happening? Our country has never been under attack
like this."
Such responses are normal, said Bruce Kijowski, the site manager for Firelands Counseling and Recovery Services
of Erie County. People can be "confused in their thinking, wondering what's going on," he said.
"There is the shock, and there can be a lot of anger, grief and depression," Kijowski said.
There is also a "feeling of being helpless when something occurs that is beyond their control," Kijowski said.
Four years have passed, and the fear, anxiety and tension have, for the most part, vanished.
The disappearance of such emotions is a psychological strategy, explained James Rogers, an education professor in
the department of counseling at the University of Akron. About a week after the attacks, Rogers went to New York
City and volunteered to help the victims.
"A terrorist event could happen anytime anywhere," Rogers said. Now, "We look at it and say, it's such a rare event,
it's not going to happen.
"That's a good thing," he added. If people did not have that safety mechanism, they can "go to more extremes
(emotionally) than what they have already done."
How much a student was impacted by Sept. 11 also had to do with how close the student was to the event, Rogers
said.
During the group discussion at SHS, Emmy Hart, another senior, cried as she recalled how a dear family friend was
one of the victims.
Her mom's best friend had been on the third plane that flew into the Pentagon, she said. An employee with National
Geographic, the friend was taking two children, who were no more than 9 or 10 years old, on a trip for a competition
the children won.
"When I found out about (her death), I couldn't understand why she died," Hart sobbed.
The impact of the attack can still be seen in the choices some of the seniors are making.
The attacks caused her to take more of an interest in the media, said Sanders, who began paying more attention to
newscasts and newspapers after the event.

3. "I thought a major awareness came at an earlier age," Sanders said.
That sudden spark could have been the source of her decision to go into broadcasting at Bowling Green State
University, she said.
This fall, Boone will start Kent State University to become a nurse. However, her distrust in the government
because of Sept. 11 has caused her to limit some of her career opportunities within the nursing profession.
Working at Buffalo Wild Wings one day, a recruiter came, trying to encourage her to be a nurse for the Iraqi troops.
Then, she said she remembered Sept. 11 and her distrust of the government. Rather than go abroad and work for the
government, she said she would choose to work at a hospital or a nursing home within the country.

4. February
2005
Marriage
of
two
cultures
not
easy
Two
Sandusky
families
share
stories
of
seeking
two
kinds
of
acceptance
By
RASHA
ALY
rashaaly@sanduskyregister.com
SANDUSKY
-­‐
People
are
surprised
when
they
see
Ariel
Miller's
mother.
They
ask
her,
"Is
that
your
mother?"
Ariel,
13,
said.
Even
teachers
are
astonished
when
they
see
Stephanie
Miller,
Ariel's
mother,
walking
through
the
door.
The
reason
is
simple,
Ariel
said.
Ariel
comes
from
a
biracial
family.
Her
father
is
black.
Her
mother
is
white.
Once
unheard
of
and
later
rare
and
frowned
upon
by
many,
interracial
families
are
now
more
and
more
common
and
accepted
in
21st
century
Sandusky.
But
its
been
a
long
struggle.
Just
ask
Stephanie
Miller
and
her
kindred
spirits,
the
Grant
family.
They
fell
in
love,
encountered
hate
and
simply
tried
to
raise
families.
These
two
families
agreed
to
share
their
stories
of
struggle,
challenge
and,
above
all,
love.
The
Miller
Story
Stephanie
Miller
met
Thomas
Cromer
in
the
mid-­‐1980s
at
Sandusky
High
School.
She
was
a
freshman
and
he
was
a
senior.
The
relationship
became
serious
quickly.
But
there
was
a
problem.
There
would
have
been
trouble,
she
said
if
her
parents
discovered
she
was
seeing
Cromer,
who
is
black.
"I
more
or
less
kept
it
a
secret,"
Miller
said
of
her
relationship.
She
could
not
keep
the
secret
for
long.
"My
mom
threatened
to
kill
him
when
she
found
out
I
was
pregnant,"
Miller
said.
Her
mother
was
not
only
angry
because
of
her
pregnancy,
but
"for
him
being
of
another
race,"
she
said.
Other
relatives
were
worse.
One
aunt,
she
said,
frequently
came
over
to
pick
fights.

5. "The
aunt
definitely
had
some
major
blowouts
over
it,"
Miller
said.
While
no
shouting
matches
occurred
outside
the
home,
the
couple
did
encounter
staring
eyes.
At
stores,
"there
were
incidents
where
the
older
people
stopped
in
their
tracks,"
Miller
explained.
They
would
"whisper
and
drop
their
mouths."
However,
nuisances
such
as
these
did
not
stop
Miller
from
pursuing
a
relationship
with
Cromer.
"I'm
not
the
type
of
person
who
does
things
to
please
other
people,"
Miller
said.
Besides,
Miller
was
in
love.
Cromer
was
funny,
Miller
remembered.
Like
his
son,
he
was
a
football
player.
He
also
reminded
Miller
of
a
favorite
musician,
a
member
of
Run-­‐DMC.
Miller
and
Cromer
had
three
children,
Thomas
Cromer
Jr.,
17,
and
two
daughters,
Brittany,
15,
and
Ariel
Miller.
Their
relationship
lasted
for
about
10
years.
They
split
up
in
1995.
The
break-­‐up,
however,
had
nothing
to
do
with
race,
she
said.
Cromer,
who
now
resides
in
Marion,
is
married
with
a
son,
Miller
said.
Though
there
may
have
been
challenges,
there
were
positives
too.
Her
family
became
more
accepting
after
the
birth
of
her
son,
Miller
said.
"They
were
more
open
to
other
races,"
she
said.
The
children
also
get
a
taste
of
both
cultures.
It's
up
to
them
to
choose
which
one
they
identify
with
the
most.
In
the
Miller
household,
Ariel,
13,
who
wants
to
become
a
Broadway
star,
is
a
Beatles
fan.
Her
siblings,
who
cannot
stand
the
Beatles,
are
more
in
tune
with
rap
singers,
such
as
Ludacris.
The
Grant
story
The
same
obstacles
also
challenged
Victor
and
Michelle
Grant.
Surrounded
by
their
four
children
in
their
home,
the
couple
discussed
what
they
faced
and
overcame
being
a
biracial
family.
A
modern
Brady
Bunch
family,
three
of
the
children
-­‐-­‐
one
son
and
two
daughters
-­‐-­‐
belong
to
Victor
Grant
and
one
is
Michelle
Grant's
daughter.

6. Although
the
children
are
not
all
biologically
related,
they
share
one
common
trait
-­‐-­‐
they
all
are
biracial.
Before
Victor
and
Michelle
got
together
they
were
in
previous
biracial
relationships.
Although
Victor
and
Michelle
are
now
divorced,
they
are
living
together,
hoping
to
work
things
out.
While
Miller
and
Cromer
encountered
stares,
sometimes,
for
the
Grants,
racism
was
not
as
subtle.
One
instance
occurred
on
U.S.
250
in
the
mid-­‐1990s,
when
another
motorist
interrupted
the
couple's
drive.
"'Why
you
got
to
be
with
a
black
man,'"
the
driver
yelled
in
the
window,
said
Michelle
Grant,
37.
"Oh,
I
was
hot,"
said
Victor
Grant,
40,
adding
that
he
wanted
to
take
some
action
in
response
to
the
stranger's
comments.
He
couldn't.
"I
would
have
gotten
in
trouble
for
approaching
him,"
Victor
said.
At
the
time,
he
was
in
the
police
academy.
Any
altercation
and
he
would
have
been
out.
Victor
went
on
to
graduate
from
the
academy
and
now
works
in
law
enforcement.
Victor
Grant
works
part-­‐time
with
the
Sandusky
police
department
and
also
is
a
recording
manager
at
Foster
Chevrolet-­‐
Oldsmobile-­‐Cadillac
Inc.,
Perkins
Twp.
A
stranger
might
have
taken
issue
with
the
couple,
but
Michelle's
family
had
no
problem,
although
her
father
had
not
always
been
so
tolerant.
He
objected
to
an
earlier
relationship
his
daughter
had
with
another
black
male,
with
whom
she
had
daughter
Brittny.
Things
were
different
with
Victor,
possibly
because
her
father
and
Victor
had
very
similar
personalities,
Michelle
said.
The
two
got
along
well
and
Michelle's
father
is
very
much
a
part
of
the
family's
life.
There
were
some
cultural
stumbling
blocks.
Cooking
was
an
issue
when
Victor
told
Michelle
about
some
of
his
favorite
dishes.
Ham
hocks.
Black-­‐eyed
peas.
Sweet-­‐potato
pie.
Michelle,
who
grew
up
in
a
white
neighborhood
in
West
Virginia,
had
never
even
heard
of
some
of
the
foods.
"It
was
embarrassing,"
she
said
of
going
to
the
store,
having
to
ask
for
help
to
find
the
items.
She
checked
out
books
from
the
library
"to
learn
how
to
flavor
the
way
they
liked
to
flavor
things."
Michelle
also
ran
into
a
hairy
cultural
issue
with
her
own
daughter
Brittny.
Michelle
said
she
did
not
know
how
to
brush
her
daughter's
hair.
"To
this
day,
I
would
not
know
how
to
braid,"
Michelle
said.
"Brittny's
friends
taught
her
how
to
do
her
hair."

7. Although
these
days
interracial
marriages
and
relationships
are
commonplace,
it
was
not
too
long
ago
that
individuals
such
Miller
and
Cromer
and
the
Grants
were
breaking
new
ground.
It
was
only
in
1967
that
a
U.S.
Supreme
Court
ruling
nullified
the
last
remaining
bans
on
interracial
marriages,
said
Benjamin
Muego,
a
political
science
and
Asian
Studies
professor
at
Bowling
Green
State
University
and
Ohio
University.
In
Loving
v.
Virginia,
a
couple
crossed
the
Virginia
border
into
Washington
D.C.
to
get
married,
Muego
explained.
It
was
illegal
for
whites
to
marry
blacks
in
Virginia.
After
the
Lovings
returned
to
Virginia,
the
two
were
indicted
by
a
grand
jury.
"They
did
this
on
purpose
to
test
the
constitutionality,"
said
Muego,
who
himself
is
involved
in
a
biracial
relationship.
Muego,
who
is
of
Philippine
origin,
is
married
to
Patricia
Ashleman,
who
is
white.
Nearly
40
years
after
the
ruling,
seeing
a
black
man
with
a
white
woman
is
nothing
out
of
the
ordinary,
Stephanie
Miller
said.
"Now,
if
you
walk
through
the
store,
you're
not
too
quick
to
be
stared
at,"
she
said.
However,
Victor
Grant
says
otherwise.
Racism
"is
still
out
there,"
he
said.
It's
"more
on
the
down-­‐low."

8. Ex-Sandusky man killed in Columbus
By RASHA ALY
rashaaly@sanduskyregister.com
COLUMBUS - A former Sandusky man was killed at 4:07 a.m. Thursday in his apartment on the north side of
Columbus.
Derrick L. Pearson's neighbors reported hearing five to seven gunshots during the time of the killing, the Columbus
Dispatch reported on its Web site.
Pearson, a 1978 Sandusky High School graduate, had just turned 44 on Jan. 6.
"He was a good son," said his mother, Judy Pearson of Sandusky.
The Social Security Office employee had moved to Columbus more than 10 years ago, said Monica Hall, Pearson's
youngest sister. They were six years apart.
"He was my big brother," Hall said. "He took time with me. I hung out with him."
When Pearson had been in the U.S. Air Force, stationed in Montgomery, Ala., he invited Hall to come down and
stay, Hall recalled. She had been thinking of attending a college near where he lived.
He even bought and sent to Hall her first set of luggage, Hall said, remembering how she thought the duffel bags
were ugly at the time. Now the memory is a reminder of the good times she had with her brother.
When Hall did visit her older brother, Pearson never let an opportunity pass to show off his baby sister. On her 21st
birthday, which they celebrated at a bar, Pearson told each one he encountered he was with his baby sister, Hall said.
Another trait Hall said she remembers about her brother is his flashy outfits.
"He always dressed to impress at all times," Hall said.
News of Pearson's death rekindled feelings of another time when his family almost lost him.
About a decade earlier, Hall said she and her family almost lost Pearson when a drunk driver hit him. Then, she
knew she needed her big brother.
"He almost died," Hall said. She thought to herself at the time, "I can't lose my brother."
Fortunately, "God saved him for that little bit of time," she said.
Now, Hall won't be able to call up her brother whenever she wants.
It's "a senseless act of violence. Nobody deserves to die in a violent way," Hall said of the way her brother died.
Pearson's family say they have gotten few answers from Columbus police. They have no suspects, Hall said. The
detective handling the case was unavailable for comment Saturday night.
The Dispatch quoted a neighbor as saying Pearson must have known his killer, because he would not have let a
stranger into his home.