What price will America pay for the attacks perpetrated on our soil on Sept. 11?

This is a question that seems to need not be asked, since more than 5,000 have lost their lives, an estimated 10,000 children have lost at least one parent, billions in investments and lost productivity have been felt around the world and an immediate economic downturn is adding to our woes.

These are real, tangible, costs. However, there are other costs that are not so tangible to all.

Look at the heightened feelings of tension for so many people, especially those who were already feeling pressure from a slowing economy. Take those feelings, twist them about and add in fear, and you might have an idea of how some people feel now that the terrorists have struck.

Then the anthrax scare began, only adding to our problems. Stories of children looking overhead at airplanes, people fearful of opening their mail, rumors swimming wildly through society's air of palatable fear — ideas like neighboring towns being infected by terrorists, nearby hospitals being attacked, and people who have been here for many years suddenly plotting the demise of western civilization.

You know, I put quite a bit of thought into what we need to do in these United States today to control those groups with ancestry in the Arabic world who have apparently infiltrated our country. This was an especially poignant thought right after the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks.

However, once I started thinking about what this could mean to me, I changed my mind. I have a French last name, as would be apparent to most. What if the terrorists who struck the United States had hailed from France instead of Egypt, Saudi Arabia and other Middle Eastern countries? What would that mean to me? Would I suddenly find myself scorned by other people here, without friends? Would I be evicted from my home because the owners fear my diabolical plots, or perhaps just to prevent personal reprisals? Would local restaurants refuse to serve me and my family? Would children mock me and people spit at me on the street? You know, none of us can really change the places our ancestors lived. Whether they were from the lands of Normandy and Saxony or the very heart of Africa, we all came here to pursue an ideal — freedom. The only people that have any real claim to this continent are the native Americans, whom we have incorrectly dubbed ‘Indians.' Of course, we tend to overlook our historic dealings with that group of people, since we murdered them, drove them from their land, lied to them and cheated them for centuries. But that's a story for another time.

When I recently heard rumors about a pizza business in Independence, Va., I was at first surprised. Having known the manager from some time, I had always seen him as a smiling, jovial and gregarious character. Always standing at the front counter of his business with a friendly joke or salutation, he was the epitome of the American dream.

Ehab Ibrahim is not a name that is common to these mountains, nor is his unusual accent. Perhaps it is an accent we would be more accustomed to hearing on a television station. However, this native of Cairo, Egypt speaks quite clearly and his mind seems to work like a well-wound clock.

I met Ehab for the first time about four years ago, after wandering into his restaurant to get something to eat. He had what appeared to be tanned skin, dark hair and brown eyes. At the time, I realized he was not Italian. However, he could have been Greek, Turkish or Jewish, as far as I was concerned. All I really cared about was the fact that he made a good pizza. In America, that's all we should care about: Does a business offer services that we are interested in or enjoy? Then patronize them.

Afterwards, he and his associates have paid to have menus in our newspaper, many times delivered here by Ehab himself. We soon were quite well acquainted. He is quite a character, in fact, most of those who know him would, indeed, call him friend.

When I think about how he says rumors about the arrest of the Ciro's owner, about the men making anthrax in the basement and other crude assertions have been made, I see the Devil at work. Rumors and gossip are not the work of angels, to be sure. While it is tempting to pass along a tidbit of information that we have heard, it should be even more tempting to try and validate or discredit that information. We should all make that our goal in life, to pass along only valid information.

Sometimes it would take as little as one phone call to the right place, or even the newspaper, to find out if something is based in fact. In this case, none of the rumors were fact — only a growing lie that was passed from mouth to mouth like a communicable disease.

Yes, perhaps these vicious rumors are the anthrax of our mountains. If so, who is the next terrorist? Perhaps it is you or a member of your family?

We must be cautious of what we say, lest we ‘infect' ourselves and our communities with these and other evil lies. In addition, we must be wary of causing damage to others and their interests, thus causing damage to our nation, and thus ourselves, in the long run. In this tiny network of communities, which includes Sparta, we need all the support we can get.

Raging unemployment and a withering economy are already here, so why would anyone want to help close another business? Especially a small business that offers employment to local people and absolutely divine calzone.

As we all know, it is easy to mistrust — or even hate — those who are different from ourselves, but I know we are better than that. After all, we are Americans.

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