WASHINGTON - The National Archives today released 122,800 pages of mostly routine correspondence from the Nixon presidency, none of it apparently earth-shaking but some of it mildly interesting.

One of the more amusing letters was from Nixon aide Egil Krough Jr., thanking a friend for helping secure a Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs badge for Elvis Presley following Presley's 1970 Oval Office meeting with the president.

"We meet many fascinating creatures in this business," Krough wrote, "but I think that meeting between the president and Elvis Presley was one of the most interesting."

Presley pledged his support to the president in the war on drugs, only to die a few years later of a heart attack brought on by years of prescription drug abuse.

Another document file contained Vice President Cheney's 1969 government job application in which he acknowledged being charged twice with driving under the influence while a college student in Wyoming.

Cheney was cited for driving under the influence in Cheyenne, Wyo., in November 1962 and in Rock Springs, Wyo., in July 1963.

He forfeited a $150 bond and had his driver's license suspended for 30 days for the first offense and was fined $100 for the second.

Another folder, on Mark Felt, contained a number of letters to Nixon urging him to appoint Felt the permanent FBI director following the death of J. Edgar Hoover.

"If Mark Felt is appointed as director of the FBI, the citizens of America would be assured the bureau could not be involved in politics," wrote the chief of police of Kodiak, Alaska, in a typical letter of support for Felt.

Had Nixon listened, he would have saved himself a lot of grief – and possibly his presidency. Instead, he chose L. Patrick Gray, and Felt retaliated by becoming "Deep Throat" in the Watergate scandal.

Frank Sinatra became a Nixon buddy, but early in Nixon's presidency, his staff debated whether it was appropriate to have Sinatra sing at the White House.

"I am sure that many of our friends in the entertainment field would think it wrong to have a former anti-Nixon person entertain at the White House," presidential aide Dwight Chapin wrote in a 1970 memo.

But Sinatra did perform, and he was soon signing his hand-written notes to the president, "Affectionately, Francis," while Nixon, ever the stiff, signed a photo of the two, "Richard Nixon."

 
DALLAS – I had an interesting conversation with a close friend of mine the other day. She's an Iraqi who's been living (legally) in the United States for the past three years. We were on the phone, talking about Thanksgiving.

"My lawyer is so nice," Rafraf said. "She invited me to Thanksgiving with her family, but I told her I'm going home."

By "home" she meant my house. 

Rafraf's parents, and ten brothers and sisters still live in Iraq. She's one of thousands of Iraqis who have risked their lives to work with Americans – in her case working as a translator for NBC News in our Baghdad Bureau.

Here in the U.S., my wife and I are Rafraf's family. We helped bring her here to attend college in Florida. My daughters think of her as a big sister. We always encourage her to come home for Thanksgiving.

"It's funny," she told me, "because I don't think my lawyer is a Christian. Isn't Thanksgiving a Christian holiday?"

"It's an American holiday," I answered. "And it's one of the few 'true' holidays we have left."

By "American" I don't mean citizens versus non-citizens, immigrants versus non-immigrants, blacks versus whites, vegetarians versus meat-eaters, doves versus hawks, Republicans versus Democrats, Native-Americans versus Non-Native Americans, or rich versus poor. 

I'm not talking about any of the myriad things that divide us as a nation. I'm talking about all of us – the 300 million of us that make up the American Family.

For 364 days each year we may focus on other priorities in our lives. But on the fourth Thursday each November, we're asked to reflect on the things that we're grateful for. We don't have to drink green beer, send gifts, carve pumpkins, or shoot off fireworks. We are asked, simply, to be thankful.

For many, I realize, it's a difficult time.

There was a traffic accident near my house last week. I knew it was bad when I saw two medical helicopters land in the field behind my back yard. A fifteen-year-old girl died in the accident, two others are fighting for their lives. All are from my daughter's high school. How can their families be thankful?

My wife's cousin lost a child this year. A close friend of ours lost her husband. Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have taken a terrible toll on American service members and their families. Some are broken, poor, homeless or hungry. 

Along with many other Iraqis, Rafraf's family lives in fear of bombing, kidnapping and murder.

How can any of them be thankful? To be honest, I don't know. But I know many of them will give thanks on Thursday, nonetheless. 

I, personally, will thank God for things big and small: For the health of my family (a big thing in my book); for the freedoms I enjoy as an American; and for the men and women who fight to protect those freedoms.

Our Thanksgiving gathering will include Christians, agnostics, a Muslim, a part-time Buddhist, a struggling single mom, a war veteran, a refugee, liberals and conservatives. We'll eat some turkey, watch some football and give thanks.

An American family, celebrating an American holiday.

ARLINGTON, Va. –

Army Staff Sgt. John Linde last talked to his wife on Saturday, Nov. 3.

"He sounded like he missed home, missed the family," said his wife, Vilma, according to newspaper reports. "He was able to speak with his daughter. We were able to tell each other we loved each other. Then, on Monday, they told me he was gone."

Linde and three other military police officers from the 10th Mountain Division were killed Nov. 5 by a roadside bomb in the northern Iraqi town of Tal Al-Dahab. He was buried on Monday at Arlington National Cemetery.

Getty Images

Victoria Linde, 8, comforts her sister Erica during a burial service for her father, Staff Sgt. John Linde, at Arlington National Cemetery on Monday. Also pictured are Linde's widow Vilma Linde and father John W. Linde.Â

"He served to the point of death so that others could be free," Chaplain (Maj.) Gary Studniewski told several hundred mourners, including Linde's widow and daughters Victoria and Erica, on a gray, raw morning.

Linde was an outdoorsman who enjoyed hunting, fishing, and racing ATVs while growing up in New Jersey and New York.

"I just never considered myself any kind of a great father," his dad told News10Now. "But other people tell me I must have been because he came out so good."

Linde enlisted in the Army in 1996. He completed one tour in Iraq in which he received a Bronze Star for fighting off an attack on a convoy. A neighbor said Linde was not looking forward to his second tour.

"He said he was lucky the first time, to say the least," the neighbor told the Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin. "I just wish his luck had held out the second time."

Linde would have turned 31 on Nov. 11, Veterans Day.

(Linde was the 397th Iraq casualty to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. At least the next three Arlington burials are private, so the 400th Iraq burial will be closed to the press.)

BOLINGBROOK, Ill. – As Drew Peterson took his case to the court of public opinion on the Today Show on Wednesday, he maintained his innocence, but was ready to convict the media for what he sees as excessive attention to the case. 

Police are re-examining the suspicious death of Peterson's third wife, Kathleen Savio, whose body was exhumed Tuesday, and questions have been raised about the mysterious disappearance of his fourth wife, Stacy, but he denied involvement in either case.

The Illinois police sergeant told host Matt Lauer that he is not concerned about the police investigation into both cases, but is angry that the media is camped out in front of his house and has all but convicted him.

"I can look you right in the eye and tell you I had nothing to do with either of those instances," he said, adding, "I'm not afraid of law enforcement. I'm afraid of the media."

When Lauer asked Peterson why he agreed to appear on the show when he is the subject of an investigation, he said he did so in an effort to "get the media off my back." 

VIDEO: Drew Peterson talks to TODAY

Peterson said he was, "here today, in attempt to basically let them see my face, here I am. Please get away from my house and leave my family alone."

However the scene in Peterson's neighborhood on Wednesday was relatively quiet, but relative being the key word. 

Quiet along Pheasant Chase Lane
On Wednesday morning, there were only two microwave trucks and our small Suburban-sized satellite truck parked along the cul-de-sac street in front of the Peterson home.

The only other thing visibly out of place in this otherwise picturesque Chicago suburb were the "Keep Out" and "No Trespassing" signs posted every six feet around a neighbor's yard in an effort to keep the media invasion off his grass.

I have been here for more than a week now and sympathize with the neighbors along Pheasant Chase Lane. This is the quietest this street has been since Stacy Peterson's disappearance made national headlines.

On a street where two cars parked side by side can cause a traffic jam, you can imagine how besieged residences feel when large dual-wheeled trucks with giant dishes set up shop at the end of their driveway and crank up generators that drone on endlessly.

There is no getting around it, this much media attention is invasive, but Peterson didn't help himself or his neighbors out with his actions. His evasive behavior, especially early on in the investigation, only made things worse. 

And in all truthfulness, as large and imposing as drew Peterson thinks the media's presence has been outside his house the last two weeks, it's been nothing compared to what it could be.

I've covered many stories where there have been far more camera's crews and trucks present. However, this is my job, not my neighborhood. So I guess perception is all relative… 

DALLAS – I interviewed a 10th grader the other day, and I can't get her story out of my head.

Fifteen-year-old girls usually don't have much to say that adults would consider "newsworthy." I should know – my oldest daughter is 15, and while I care deeply about the mundane dramas in her life, I doubt reporters would line up to relay those dramas to the world.

But Mariela Torres' story shook me. She's a cute, bright girl. Everybody seems to like her.

It was one of Mariela's friends who first offered her "cheese" when she was just 13 years old. Mariela had never used any drugs before that day. "Cheese," she was told, wasn't really a drug – it would just make her feel happy.

Here's what Mariela didn't know.

Cheese is the slang name for a mixture of black tar heroin and Tylenol PM. The substances are combined and come out looking much like parmesan cheese. The resulting product is sold for as little as $2 per hit. 

NBC News

Mariela Torres, a 15-year-old Dallas 10th grader, who was addicted to the mixture of black tar heroin and Tylenol PM called "cheese."

Kids in the Dallas-area are buying "cheese" with their lunch money, according to media reports. They're snorting the stuff up their noses – often at school – and dying in alarming numbers, according to the Dallas County medical office.

A recent study by the Dallas Independent School district determined that more than 5,000 kids have tried cheese. More than two dozen have died of overdoses. Most, like Mariela, first take the drug in middle school.

That's shocking. Middle school students are being targeted by drug dealers and turned into heroin addicts before they reach high school. 

Getting treatment
The lucky ones, like Mariela, find treatment. After more than a year of use, she was put through detox, then more than three months of rehab.

I visited the rehab center Mariela attended. It was filled with kids. The average age is 15, but there were heroin addicts there as young as 12. It's heartbreaking and infuriating.

Today, Mariela is drug free, but she knows people who are still using.

"It makes me want to go do it again," she told me. "But I know I shouldn't, because I don't want to go back through the same things I was going through."

Mariela is a good kid. I could tell that immediately. She smiles freely and looks you in the eye when she speaks. She has her whole life ahead of her. She's even thinking of trying out for her high school soccer team. 

I pray she makes it through her recovery and get the chance to play.

SAN ANTONIO, Texas – The human spirit never fails to amaze me. Our ability to overcome adversity, to fight for the things that really matter, to struggle against the odds.

Nowhere is that spirit more obvious or inspiring than here at the Center for the Intrepid in San Antonio – a high-tech rehabilitation facility at Brooke Army Medical Center, built entirely through private donations.  It's where hundreds of service members who've been badly wounded in combat begin the long and painful road to recovery.

I arrived at the center this morning, several hours in advance of President Bush's visit this afternoon. What a humbling experience.

There are hundreds of men and women here, recovering from horrific wounds. Burns, amputations, blindness. They have suffered and lost, and paid the price for service.

Yet, most are smiling – even through pain.

I'm not sure I can explain why. Soldiers and Marines have always had an uncanny ability to "smoke and joke" under extreme circumstances. I saw lots of that today. Men and women, some burned beyond recognition or with only two limbs, sitting in the warm sunshine, telling stories, anticipating the president's arrival.

Some clearly want to prove they're tough.  They have state-of-the-art equipment at their disposal, but it's still up to them to put in the endless hours of rehab. 

Reuters

U.S. President George W. Bush is presented a T-shirt from Lance Cpl. Isaac Gallegos during a visit to the Center for the Intrepid at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas, November 8, 2007.

One soldier said it was a big boost for morale for Bush to come and meet them. He wanted the president to know he missed his buddies in Afghanistan and that he's looking forward to rejoining the fight – with his one good leg.

Bush, for his part, marveled at the technology. He watched amputees climb a rock wall using prosthetic limbs. He offered encouragement to a soldier who had lost both legs as he balanced on a fitness ball. He spent time talking with dozens of soldiers and thanked them for their service. He came and went.

But the men and women who need this place can't leave just yet. They have much work to do, fighting to regain any version of normalcy. And smiling.