© Brian Adams 2011
Brian and I have been getting up with the sun lately (usually around five or six), so by ten o'clock last night, we were ready to turn into bed for some cuddle time and a movie. Around eleven, my sister, Beth, sent us a text: "You guys hear the news?" Two texts later, we found out that Osama Bin Laden had been found and killed by U.S. forces, which we soon verified, lying in bed, browsing the internet anxiously for more news. Our first feelings weren't ones of celebration or even relief; the first thing I said, in fact, was, "What a sad thing." Of course, I meant what a sad thing all of it has been: the World Trade Center's collapse, President Bush's crusade against the Middle East, the hate (and greed) fueling both sides of a bloody, sad war.
I understand why people are celebrating--relief in the prospect of security (really, does killing Bin Laden make us secure?), that something (anything) has happened in this war, that the loved ones lost in 9/11 and the years following may actually (in some universe) be avenged.
I understand why they claim they are celebrating, but to me--to us--a man's death is not something to be celebrated. Bin Laden was a man who did (who chose to do ) horrible things, as have many in our own country. But I refuse to believe that he--or anyone--is evil. Maybe I'm just too far away from the Middle East, maybe I didn't live in Manhattan on 9/11, or maybe I just don't see the world in terms of this or that. Maybe I want to believe that people do what they feel that they need to do in this life, and that judgement can never truly be ours. Maybe I'm not a good patriot, maybe I'm a sap, and maybe I haven't tasted enough blood in my life. What I know is that I didn't recognize New York City last night at all.