Turning Away

“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.” -Mark Twain

My initial reaction to the news may resemble Twain's sentiment. That first feeling was followed by some guilt and self-examination of the prospect of being glad to learn of Bin Laden's death. I could rationalize my response as a feeling of relief, a recognition of some measure of future violence removed from the world, or perhaps a satisfaction in justice being served. But those are all secondary responses, and each related concept brings a world of complexity and moral grey terrain.

As a kid I used to climb the cliffs at the edge of my town and gaze out across the low plain that leads up to New York City. Hours of staring at the that skyline and wondering about its inhabitants etched the view into my mind indelibly. I've stood at the top of the towers with my grandparents, marveling at the panorama, feeling tiny in that ocean of people below.

Watching those towers fall on a tiny laptop computer screen, surrounded by speechless colleagues, I could only imagine the horror of the people trapped within. I felt a piece of myself falling with them, still standing on that observation deck with my grandparents, tumbling into a twisted broken darkness.

Blame is always a complicated thing, and ten years of war, politics, and mass-media frenzy has left us standing in a very strange place. I still feel myself standing on that cliff, looking at the skyline, with its gaping hole. I can hear the cheers now, and I have no urge to join them or chide them. All I really want to do now is turn and walk away.