I remember when Saddam Hussein's sons were killed.
I remember when he was captured. The headline in the Everett Herald the next day was "Ace in the hole", a reference to the "most wanted" deck of cards with Hussein as the Ace of Spades.
I remember breaking apart a little at the sight of that old man we'd made a monster, at the thought of his dead children.
I remarked only yesterday to a coworker that a Black ops team and a sniper's bullett might be the best solution to getting Gaddafi out of Libya.
It's funny the way I talk when I'm not thinking about what I say.
A NATO bomb killed Gaddafi's son and three of his grandchildren today.
Tyrant, monster, murderer, he may be.
Father, Grandfather, mortal.
I want freedom for Libya. I want Gaddafi out of power and some one of the Libyan people's choosing to replace him.
But I don't want to forget the part of me that is still human enough to see him as a human. It may have been a naive high school girl who could still mourn for that old man and his dead children but I'm not willing to let go of her, completely.
O, war is an ugly thing. I understand why it's easier to think of it as just another game of cards.
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