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Weaving a Ribbon of Unity

Patriotism: A local store tries to keep up with demand for the red, white and blue symbols. Other scenes reveal our changing landscape.

AMERICA ATTACKED | SOUTHLAND VIGNETTES

September 16, 2001|STEPHANIE CHAVEZ and KRISTINA SAUERWEIN, TIMES STAFF WRITERS

She sat alone Saturday in a cramped back room on a singular, fast-paced patriotic mission: measure, cut, fold, pin. In 20 seconds flat, Rachel Moran can turn a strip of red, white and blue ribbon into what is popularly being called a "Unity Pin."

But no matter how fast this cashier at a Pasadena crafts store worked, she couldn't keep up with the demand.


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"My fingers are sore," said the 30-year-old Altadena woman.

When Abbas Sorbi, manager of Stats Floral Supply, saw that many in attendance at the National Cathedral memorial wore red, white and blue lapel ribbons, he handed out bolts of ribbon to his workers.

The store had run out of flags, but it had plenty of ribbon.

Soon after the first basket of 50-cent pins were put out front, orders began streaming in. The Huntington Library, Pac Bell, a Bank of America branch and the local DMV all put in orders for batches of 100, 200, 500. Soon, every cashier in the store was making Unity Pins.

One bride called and ordered 300 ribbons for reception keepsakes. Susan Sullivan scooped up 80 to distribute at her nephew's 2nd birthday party today as a small remembrance of the national heartache.

"It feels strange to have a celebration, but if each guest wears a pin, then we are remembering the pain," she said.

All while Moran was measuring, cutting, folding and pinning. "I can't wait to go out around town and see people wearing my ribbons."

Firefighters Find Friends in Westwood

In New York, firefighters buried their revered chaplain, who died in the World Trade Center collapse and who was one of hundreds of members of that department to perish Tuesday.

Three thousand miles away, firefighters from Westwood's Station 37 marked their fallen colleagues by converging on the Westwood Federal Building and pausing to reflect, helmets over their hearts.

And when passersby on busy Wilshire Boulevard spied the 10 solemn-faced firemen standing silently in a row next to the curb, some lined up alongside them. Minute after silent minute ticked by as the firefighters held their places. Before it ended, a dozen men and women had joined the firemen. They stood motionless with their hands over their hearts as other motorists--some in cars and trucks bedecked with American flags--honked and waved.

"I just want to show my support and love," explained Todd Biederman, a Santa Monica advertising company worker who joined the firefighters' line.

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