I made two new friends today. It was an unexpected meeting…not my usual crowd. But I think we’re going to have a good relationship. I hope so, at least. I’m hoping they’ll stay with me through thick and thin…come rain or shine…on the road and off…on bad days and good. Because on January 10, when I cross the finish line at the Disney Marathon, they’ll be with me. Still going strong.
The notorious shoe-throwing Iraqi journalist was received his sentence in court. And the verdict was met with mixed reactions.
What I find interesting is that the sentiments among the Iraqi people regarding the US invasion and occupation of their country oddly mirrors our own. People in both countries oppose the war. People in both countries support it.
With that kind of division, how can we expect there to be a positive outcome? How can we expect there to be no price to pay…on either end? And how can we help a nation–which we put in their current position–heal and move forward? After all, we started it. Perhaps we should find a way to help finish it.
I finally found a way to feel compassion for George W. Bush. And it really came to the surface after the shoe incident in Iraq.
Let’s face it. In many ways the whole situation was comical. An Iraqi reported took a line drive at Bush’s head not once, but twice. A little more force behind it and he would have succeeded. And then there’s W.’s quick, cat-like reflexes. And then there’s the humor afterward. “It was a size 10” and everyone laughs.
But here’s what else was said. The Iraqi reporter threw the shoe “for the widows, the orphans and those killed”. Bush remarked later that “It doesn’t bother me,” and that “I didn’t feel the least threatened by it.”
Telling words when you stop and really think about it. The strongest insult, the greatest act of hatred in that culture was sent his direction and he wasn’t bothered by it. Nor was he threatened by it. Which says to me that he doesn’t get it. And he never has.
He does not understand the impact he’s had on milllions of men, women, and children all over the world. He has no idea what he’s done to families, how his decisions of traumatized whole societies. God forbid that he ever does. Because if he ever really wakes up and realizes what he’s done, I’m not so sure he could withstand the weight of the impact of his decisions. I certainly could not.
So, Mr. President, after 8 years, I have finally found a way to have some compassion toward you. May you find peace and redemption, and may God help us all.
Rhymes with Bucket 