I left the TV off all day and thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet. No CNN means no anxious moments as the news crawls along the bottom of the screen. Will it get to the end of the sentence before they go to commercial? Or is this just another tease for a special interactive feature on CNN.com? It's just been too much lately, and I especially didn't want to hear any more about anthrax.
So when David dropped by this afternoon and told me that there was news, and it was news about anthrax, I got another dose of survivor guilt. Or maybe it's more the guilt of a person who's been following events so closely and can't stand to think he missed something. It'd be like missing General Hospital the day Luke and Laura finally get back together. On a slightly grander scale, of course.
We got to talking about the war, and the bombing, and the government, and I had to admit to him that I'm uncomfortable with giving my full, unconditional support to a policy that reminds me too much of the world the way it was when I was his age. "This is totally different," he assures me, and I agree. "We were attacked." Well, yes we were, and we have a right to defend ourselves.
The difference is that he has every confidence that the government knows exactly what it's doing. I want to feel that way, too, but I can't help having doubts. To me, in a way it'll always be 1968. I fight that notion as illogical and unproductive, but I can't completely erase it. So I watch the news, when I do watch it, with as much a critical eye as a patriotic heart. It's the curse of having lived through too much history.