58 years ago today the Enola Gay dropped a bomb on Hiroshima, Japan. A big one. The biggest of ones. Growing up, everyone told me that it changed the world forever. Frankly, I think it's just one more Baby Boomer myth (don't EVEN get me started on the overhyped self-importance that generation gives themselves). The only way it changed my life is that we actually had drills in school to prepare for such an event. As if hiding under desks with our heads tucked by our knees would help us out in the event of a nuclear bomb. As if Birmingham, Alabama were a primary target for nukes.

Nope...It really didn't change my world forever. I have no "Mental Ground Zero" (author Douglas Coupland's definition for where you visualize yourself during the dropping of an atomic bomb). My world is one of small pockets of terrorists and randomly being at the wrong place at the wrong time and a goofy system of colors and numbers telling me what my likelihoods are.

There's a park, called Peace Park, in Hiroshima, at precisely the spot where the bomb hit. Children make oragami animals and place them there even today. Apparently, lessons were learned that previous generations passed on. So, special note to anyone carrying "suitcase nukes" or "dirty bombs" or whatever else you've got planned: Learn those lessons. Blessed are peacemakers...

If you've got a religious text that says anything contrary to that, find a new one.