Redux

Last night when I finished my entry on 09/11, I was not really happy with it.

The hijackers literally murdered thousands. And there is no denying the horrific nature of the crime. And the tendency is to focus of the victims. Each Sunday since 09/11, "The New York Times" had devoted a page to stories about the victims. Whenever I read the page, I come away numb.

The stories are of ordinary people. With kids, and friends and significant others. Who led ordinary lives. And who were reduced to stardust in an instant. Whose remains may never be identified. And who became part of the dust and ash and smoke.

But there is a part of me that wonders about the families of the hijackers. There had/have to be mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters somewhere. But it's as though they don't exist. As though the hijackers were not quite human.

But here's the paradox. To deny their humanity fosters a different type of terror.

I remember that when commemoration services were held for the victims of Columbine, the two crosses for the shooters were torn down. And only one church would agree to hold a service for the two. So a new form of terror has been created.

To limit someone else's humanity, irrespective of reasons, in a way cripples your own humanity.

PAX!