." But I let..." Repeat after me, 'It is not my fault.'" But..." Say it, please, for me, for yourself." It's not my fault," she whispered."Say it like...you mean it, again, and again, and again."She did, over and over, until it became a mantra as I repeated it with her, changing the "my" to "your."With every repetition I could feel her relaxing a little bit more, sounding a little bit more confident, stronger, angrier. I took her hands and slapped the water with them with every "not," with every. I ran across many Iranians that were being trained by the US Navy before the radicals took over their government. The ones that I knew were very friendly and they cherised American values. They were mild manered and very friendly. It disturbed me to think what happened to their country. Its just my opinion of course, but I think the Iranians that I knew will someday take their country back from the tryants that hate.I don't really think that anyone really ever knew the real story of what went. More

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