dear osama.

Ughhh. So I'm still not really satisfied with the appearance of my blog right now, but I will, in the words of the British government, "keep calm and carry on," because my blog readers need me!


Hey, I'm just giving the people what they want.


In other news...


Did y'all hear that Osama Bin Laden is dead?


I know I'm a little late blogging about this humungous event in history, but c'mon, guys. My blog didn't look cute.


While this event is a huge deal and it's awesome for our country and USA all the way and Obama-rama, etc, you get the picture, I was thinking about the smaller things when I found out about his death. Like the friends and families of the men and women who were killed in Afghanistan and on September 11, 2001. I can't imagine their relief when they heard the news of Bin Laden's death. I can't imagine the finality of it. I can't imagine the good night's sleep they must have had, finally feeling a sense of closure, finally being able to release their grief.


The reason I'm thinking about this at all is because of a book by Chris Cleave that I read earlier this year called Incendiary. It wasn't my favorite book by any means (it's central story is about an adulterous woman that has to live in the aftermath of her husband's and son's deaths at the hands of Osama Bin Laden), but it did give some really cool insight into the mind of a grieving mother who, obviously, isn't perfect, but feels and hurts and bleeds just like any other grieving widow/mother/adulterer would. The book is written in the form of an unread, unsent letter to Bin Laden, and I just thought I would share a couple of quotes from it. So that you can attempt to imagine the relief that these family members are feeling. And so that you can feel blessed for the safety of your own family.

"Dear Osama they want you dead or alive so the terror will stop. Well I wouldn’t know about that I mean rock ‘n’ roll didn’t stop when Elvis died on the khazi it just got worse. Next thing you know there was Sonny & Cher and Dexys Midnight Runners."

"I wonder, did you celebrate when you heard my boys got killed? Did you turn on the radio and hear them say a thousand and three dead? Did you put down your mouth over the rocks and kneel down to pray? I prayed. I prayed for the deaths toll to go up to a thousand and four and take me too."

"People thought it was the end of the world. But the world didn't end. So they rebuilt the city in 3 years, stronger and taller. London is a city built on the wreckage of itself, Osama. It's had more come backs than the evil dead. It's been flattened by storms and flooded out and rotted with plague. Even Hitler couldn't finish it off. Death nor flame was like hell, my grandmother said, just one endless sea of flames. But we built on the rubble, and we kept on coming like zombies. I am the city, Osama. I am the whole world. Murder me with bombs and I will only build myself again, and stronger. I'm too stupid to know better."

Wow.

Depressing, yes.


But if that doesn't instill some pride for your country and some gratefulness for your family... 


God bless America.


Clums.