Truth Thursday
Oh god, it’s happened again. A terrible news story, a la
9-11, a la Newtown, that marks the end of what started as a normal Monday.
This time in Boston. Two bombs. Three people dead. Two more
undetonated bombs destroyed. At least a hundred people injured. Scores more
probably to come. And a nation finding itself, once more, grieving.
This is a different world than the one I grew up in. Back
then, the violence and carnage was always far away, overseas (except, of
course, for the civil rights movement, and the ugly and ferocious backlash
against those who were fighting for their rights on our own soil.)
We thought that by living on a continent buttressed by two
oceans and two friendly neighbors we would be protected forever. We thought
that the stirring words of our forefathers – enshrined in the Declaration of
Independence and the U.S. Constitution – proclaiming ours a shining democracy,
one in which all would be equal under the law, would shield us from the horror
of chaotic, despotic governments, of the hate and ignominy of the world outside
our borders.
We were wrong.
For over a decade, we have lived with the
now-deeply-embedded muscle memory of fear. Fear that there are forces out there
that hate us, that are beyond our scope of protection. Fear that we will
perhaps someday be the target of something so huge, so protracted, that
Armageddon will ensue.
So we keep emergency evacuation kits near our front doors.
We know the best routes out of our towns. We have plans solidified as to where
to meet our family members if an attack shuts down the normal workings of our
city.