I am anxious. The other day tucked down in the corner of the newspaper was a little story about how an American drone in Afghanistan had killed a couple of dozen innocent civilians, fourteen of which were children. Maybe the national media spent ten seconds on it.
Now we are getting 24 hour reruns of the horrific explosions in Boston. Closer to home. I stopped watching the news after seeing the explosion about 100 times. Feeding the anxiety of Americans.
Yesterday at lunch with my golf buddies I decided that Americans like to be scared because it pulls them together. At first I was greeted with guffaws, but then slowly the others thought maybe it was true.
I am not anxious because I am scared. I am anxious because we ignore the death of 14 children in Afghanistan with no apologies for blood on our hands. At the same time we show great empathy and caring for our own victims who most likely died at the hands of a crazy person, ala Tim McViegh. It seems wrong.
Now we are getting 24 hour reruns of the horrific explosions in Boston. Closer to home. I stopped watching the news after seeing the explosion about 100 times. Feeding the anxiety of Americans.
Yesterday at lunch with my golf buddies I decided that Americans like to be scared because it pulls them together. At first I was greeted with guffaws, but then slowly the others thought maybe it was true.
I am not anxious because I am scared. I am anxious because we ignore the death of 14 children in Afghanistan with no apologies for blood on our hands. At the same time we show great empathy and caring for our own victims who most likely died at the hands of a crazy person, ala Tim McViegh. It seems wrong.
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