The Rocket’s Red Glare

As I enjoy the long, fun weekend that celebrates American independence, I find myself trying to console my inconsolable dog who is terrified of loud sounds like thunder, fireworks and gunshots.

She hasn’t always been like this but a few years ago at a big holiday picnic, someone lit off a few firecrackers right next to us, and it has affected her deeply.

I don’t enjoy fireworks anymore, either.  Not since October 7th, 2001 when my country began bombing the largely undeveloped country of Afghanistan with 21st century weaponry.

I hold a soul-deep conviction that this was wrong.  That night I was awakened by the sound of a nearby garbage dumpster clanging to the ground.  I tried to dive under the bed, believing we were being bombed.

Our national anthem romanticizes the ‘bombs bursting in air’ yet the bombs that rained on Afghanistan burst more than just air- they burned the flesh of people who had no understanding of what was happening to them.

I understand the counter arguments. I realize there were terrorists hiding amid the tribes in the mountains. But we used a cannon to try to destroy a termite, apparently without considering the consequences of the ‘collateral,’ and cultural damage.

I believe in kharma – that our choices yield real consequences and that we will eventually be held accountable them.  And as a nation we have a great deal to answer for.  And some of those things could have been avoided.