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I am an American.
I am stunned by the carnage, disbelieving. Furious, confused. I feel powerless
amid all this.
I am not afraid.
I have an antique nightstick that I keep next to my bed, and a heavy flashlight
that I could use to beat an intruder senseless. In the basement in my tackle
box, I have a razor-sharp hunting knife. Should I bring it upstairs?
Should I buy a shotgun? Maybe a handgun. I don't like guns. I don't want
one. I want one. I told my wife I was going to buy one. Maybe I will. We
thought we were safe here.
Our pastor preaches forgiveness and mercy. I want to forgive and be merciful,
but I want blood and merciless revenge. I want to house the homeless and
feed the hungry. I want to kill the killers. I am itching for a fight but
there's no one at my door and my stick and my knife won't reach the sky
when the planes fly overhead.
There's a flag in my basement. I flew it once, well before the murderers
slammed into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and the Pennsylvania
countryside, carrying their precious, breathing cargo to flaming death.
I am not a flag waver.
Do I fly the flag now? Is it enough to fly the flag to say what I think
and to show what I feel? Is that the best I can do? It is very little.
It is not enough.
I am a veteran and I am 48. Will my country want my son instead? He's almost
the same age I was when I got my draft number. Will they come for my daughter
one day? Take my blood but don't take my children, damn you.
The president says we will rid the world of evil-doers. Such hubris. Such
righteousness. Such machismo. Such posturing.
It won't happen. Like the poor, they will always be with us, among us.
Sometimes they are us.
One of us parked a bomb in front of a federal building in Oklahoma. Once
our pride and impatience sparked a blazing inferno in Texas that killed
men, women and children. Sometimes we kill innocents directly and sometimes
we arm others and they do our killing for us. We send weapons around the
world. Sometimes they turn toward us.
We have weapons of mass destruction. Good God, we invented weapons of mass
destruction.
Rid the world of the evil-doers, Mr. President? Make sure you get them
all.
Let us destroy those who threaten us from without and who kill our loved
ones, because we have no choice. Then we must look at ourselves and see
what nature of beast has survived.
Did I say I am not afraid? I am afraid.
I am afraid that when all is said and done, we will have learned nothing.
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