My granddaughter, Sugar, is in the 5th grade at Big Brother Elementary. The other day she brought home an assignment from her teacher, Ms. White. She was asked to write about what her family members thought, remembered, or knew of the events of 9/11. I said, “Sure, Sugar, let me grab my calculator” and then I divided 9 by 11. When I showed the number 0.818181 on the display, I told her “this is the percentage of probability that Saddam Hussein possessed WMD while the neocons pushed a born-again Christian to invade–”
By this time, Sugar was running downstairs, crying “Dad, dad, Grandpa is doing it again.” It didn’t take long before my American son-in-law, Hunk, and my daughter came up to my room with a brochure, saying “Dad, I think it’s best if you move to a home.”
As they were leaving, I saw tears in my daughter’s eyes. Hunk would have assumed these tears were for the victims of 9/11, but I knew that she was crying for the victim at hand….
