A Very Remarkable Time
Soooo I wake up again to the United States bombing another country. This is becoming a thing. Not something I want. There are so many thoughts rattling around my brain—I’m wracked with guilt for just being alive and living in this country, guilty of trying to ignore what Washington is doing. For many people it is more than a disruption—it is shifting the very course of their life. On Sunday, a day after the initial bombings, I attended a little boy’s birthday party, where I was the only non-Iranian person there. I’m not sure I can convey historically how this felt. I took my shoes off at the door and kissed my host. I clutched her and said, “Khamenei is dead.” First: She corrected my pronunciation of his name, then, shook her head: “This is not what I wanted.” I said, “Me, too! But I’m hearing that some Iranian-Americans are very happy. Glad that the US has stepped in.” My friend acknowledged this. Everyone has their own opinion. But, a war . . . More people will die.—My ...