Jeff Davis | Vent Section Manager

I took one day of my Thanksgiving break to do some shopping. God knows I wouldn't even begin to comprehend venturing out into the day-after- Thanksgiving quagmire, so I went the day before with my friend Jason. We were dawdling around the mall to work up an appetite, and we stopped by Waldenbooks to see if they had a gift I was looking for.

Well, the item wasn't there, but someone important was. Staci. I hadn't seen her since two days after that terrible event in September, and her Islamic faith had put target marks all over her soul. Her car had been egged, her friends verbally terrorized, and her poetry full of determination, but also with an element of fear.

Jason and I were making jokes about the "Sex and Relationships" section when Staci appeared, wearing a nametag that said "Sales Associate." She looked at me with a playful face and said, "Are you causing trouble again, Jeff?" Last time I'd seen that face, it was that of an unemployed, scared woman seeking any kind of solace she could. In our limited Internet conversations, she told me she hadn't been out of the house since.

And now that face was brighter than any passage of poetry Shakespeare or any section of prose William Faulkner could ever write.

I asked her if they had the book I was looking for, and she searched the computer database. While doing so, I learned her daughter was doing well, and she was surviving Ramadan without any trouble. "I've forgotten what food is like," she giggled.

"I finally got a job as you can see," she said as she returned the computer to the main menu. "Feels good to be out again."

The best part was her smile. After all she was going through beforehand, a smile seemed a long way off. But there she was, supporting herself and interacting with people. That night she inspired me more than any speech President Bush has given.

Take that, bin Laden.