Amessage to Osama bin Laden on the one-year anniversary of his terror:You failed.If you are dead, you failed, because you are not in some blessed place, sitting under the Yum Yum tree. You are in a corner of hell reserved for murderers.And if you live on, you failed, too. Because you are hidden in some cave in a forsaken corner of the world, forced to recognize the truth: What you sought to weaken, you fortified. What you sought to terrorize, you emboldened.
There was a popular song during the first World War. Its title was "Over There." It encouraged young men to "get your gun" and "make your mother proud of you." It told the world "the Yanks are coming . . . and we won't come back till it's over over there."Today, for most of us, war is indeed, "over there." It arrives only in green-screen TV reports and controlled press briefings and presidential photo ops that say "Mission Accomplished." Some of us would like to keep it that way.So last week, when images of flag-draped coffins appeared on the Internet, many complained.
MITCH ALBOMSALT LAKE CITY -- He couldn't stop giggling. It kept gushing from his mouth, this high pitched "huh-huh-huh." As he held his skis aloft --"huh-huh-huh" -- as he hugged his coach -- "huh-huh-huh" -- as he waved to the crowd of screaming Swiss countrymen, waving flags and clanking cowbells."SI-MON! SI-MON!""Huh-huh-huh!"Up in the sky, just moments earlier, Simon Ammann had been huge, a giant, riding the wind for 436 glorious feet.Now, back on earth, he was Harry Potter.A giggling Harry Potter.
He waved to his wife and baby son, and headed for the airport.Fourteen years later, he still hasn't come home.The son is a teenager now, about to start a new school. The wife does the chores that her husband used to do. She takes care of the lawn. She fills the gas tank. She is hardened by her tears but strengthened by her faith.
IT'S Christmas, you've seen "It's A Wonderful Life" a million times, so you know the concept: Jimmy Stewart keeps trying to get out of his rut, but in the end, winds up back in the same old place.Who knew that movie was really about our football team?Bah, humbug. The Lions keep telling us they are not the same old Lions. Then, in the most important games of the year, they go out and play like ...the same old Lions. Oh, sure, Sunday's loss took some extra effort. There are blown games, there are blown seasons and there are works of art.
Magic Johnson was on the phone, talking about the differences between living in Michigan and living in Los Angeles."The biggest difference?" he said. "Hospitality. Just saying hello."Saying hello? How hard is that?"Do you know that in L.A. you can live for 20 years in the same house and not know your next-door neighbor?" Magic said. "Can you imagine that happening in Michigan? You'd know the whole neighborhood."We offer that up as Defense Exhibit A in what has been, to this point, a one-way spit-fest between La-La Land and the Motor City.
Whenever I am asked to describe Detroiters, I always tell the same story.It was 16 years ago, and I had just arrived in the Motor City. I had not yet written a column for this newspaper. The only knowledge anyone here had of me was a small item in the Free Press announcing my hiring.I came to the office.I already had mail.A half-dozen letters. Handwritten to me. They could pretty much be summed up this way:Dear Mr. Albom:
The highlight of the Lions' 2002 season took place Sunday.It ended.Here in a town where football could be king, Detroit's court jesters closed this year's NFL campaign with interceptions, penalties and a pass defense that couldn't stop Frodo Baggins. Oh, and they lost, again, in the closing seconds, when the offense blew a two-point conversion, leaving only one question in Detroit this morning: What happens next? Are they really gonna keep president Matt Millen and coach Marty Mornhinweg?
Mitch Albom writes about running an orphanage in impoverished Port-au-Prince, Haiti, his kids, their hardships, laughs and challenges, and the life lessons he’s learned there every day.
