(Originally published in Newsweek as a “My Turn” essay on 3/1/04). A bit of associated trivia: Donald Trump was on the cover.)
My son sits tensely on the couch watching the nightly television news while the newscaster speaks words that no seventeen year-old child should hear. Because of heightened security concerns the terrorism alert has been raised to orange level… Another suicide bombing has been reported in Iraq. There are an as yet unknown number of civilian casualties… Next up, a special report on whether hazmat suits really protect against anthrax…
Add to that the scrolled messages rolling out beneath the news anchor. More doom and gloom – predictions of a recession, a canceled flight from London, street violence in Haiti, continued nuclear potential in North Korea.
I sit and watch the news with him. At seventeen, he needs to know what is going on in the world, but the continual litany of sorrow and fear that is somehow now part of the very fabric of our daily lives is almost too much to bear. I wish for a moment that I could just flip off the television like I would when he was a little guy, and say, “Hey, let’s go to the park!”