War and Love

What is it like to wake up to a changed world? 

When citizens of the United States woke up on the morning of December 7, 1941, what did they feel? When they heard President Roosevelt say in his Infamy Speech, "Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger." We and our children are in danger. When they heard the anti-war and isolationist leader Charles Lindbergh say, "Our country has been attacked by force of arms, and by force of arms we must retaliate." Peace is not an option. I wasn't alive then and neither were you, most likely. It is simply history. The horrifying date of infamy.

When the citizens of the United States woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001, what did they feel? I was in fourth grade, eight years old. I didn't feel anything. I was in a world where I witnessed everyone around me feeling a great emotional, sad, confused, and angry response to the terrorist attack. I was not afraid because all I had was fourth grade math and English and my best friend next door. None of that felt like it was in danger. So even the modern day of infamy had no emotional impact on me. Bush said, "We have seen their kind before. They are the heirs of all the murderous ideologies of the 20th century. By sacrificing human life to serve their radical visions - by abandoning every value except the will to power - they follow in the path of fascism, and Nazism, and totalitarianism. And they will follow that path all the way to where it ends: in history's unmarked grave of discarded lies." Gives me chills, though I hadn't heard it then.

Ever since I started gaining an understanding, or rather, the birth of the internet and social media during my teenage years, I have checked the news religiously, waiting to wake up to some form of terror. Don't be mistaken, I have done such not because I am afraid of what might happen, rather I am afraid of not knowing it has happened.

The closest I've come to any sort of grave news was actually good news when Obama announced the catching and killing of Osama bin Laden. It was late at night, I don't remember the time exactly, but I remember seeing something on the internet about bin Laden's death. I went to the living room in my mom's house and turned on the TV. Every station showed a hallway with the President's podium, lacking simply the President himself. A scroll across the bottom of the screen read that Obama was to brief America on the death of Osama bin Laden. I waited maybe fifteen minutes, staring at an empty podium. Finally Obama came to and started, "Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al Qaeda, and a terrorist who's responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children." I felt chills and a sort of excitement. I woke my mom up so she could watch too.
There was this big ordeal going through social media, Facebook specifically, where everyone was all gung-ho about bin Laden's death. Then, all of a sudden, there was backlash from some people about how we shouldn't be celebrating his death. So I responded, and I'm paraphrasing because I can't find the damn Facebook status from May 2011, "No death should be celebrated. The fact that someone had to die does not permit joviality. However, the fact that no more deaths will come at the hands of this terrible man is cause for celebration."

Even with these things, I have not woken up to a world that felt as if it had changed. No. For me, the world changed when I discovered love, and also when I lost it.

Sure that sounds romantic and all, but truly, my world view is what changed. I think anything that has the ability to disrupt and threaten your happiness can change your world, at least from your perspective. Do you think the Japanese were as terrified as Americans on December 7, 1941? No. Do you think Americans were as terrified as the Japanese on August 6, 1945? Probably not. Do you think you were as terrified as I when I felt a world without my love? You might not have even known. And if you did, if you were around then, you would say no to that question. And are the likes of World War II and the War on Terror comparable to my own personal and infamous love? Maybe not from your perspective. World War II and the War on Terror threatened life. Love threatens happiness. What is one without the other?