Celebrating death is a strange, sobering sensation

Word of the day: ignominy. Of Latin origin, ignominy means "a state of disgrace, dishonor." The Latin compound translates literally "no name" or "not named."

Osama bin Laden's was an ignominious death. His life was hunted down and ended the way a sheriff's deputy locates and identifies a rabid dog and removes the danger with a service pistol. Bin Laden's burial at sea was ... well, ignominious. Nobody was invited. There was no memorial or eulogy. That those in charge buried him "according to the customs of Islam" was a testament only to their own decency. Certainly nothing owed to the man bin Laden. I would guess those in charge of the burial did not even intend ignominy. Bin Laden was buried thusly because 1) Islamic law requires speedy burial, and 2) the United States was being politically strategic, not wanting to invite a ready geography for perverse "pilgrimages" to a specific burial site.

Bin Laden was afforded a burial, but no way were we going to provide him a headstone, let alone a tomb. In this, both his death and his memory have "no name."

I will be 54 in two months. And, before Sunday, May 1, when my soldier boy son called me with the news of bin Laden's death, I had never once -- not once -- been glad someone was dead. But I was glad. So glad that I wept. I didn't know I was capable of being glad someone was dead. Turns out I am capable. I'm going to be a while working through that. I don't feel guilty. But I am changed. It's very sobering.

If I thought bin Laden was crazy, I could find some compassion. Bin Laden was not crazy. If I thought he was a sociopath, I could think of him in terms of objective limits. But bin Laden was not a sociopath. He could and did make bonds with wives, children, colleagues and friends.

I grope for an analogy, a way to comprehend him. And I think of Vito Corleone, the fictional Godfather come to life in Mario Puzo's novel. Vito was an orphaned immigrant. He was neither crazy nor sociopathic. He loved his wife, his children and his grandchildren. He was capable of faithful friendship. He was, within the confines of his worldview, fair and just. Even consistent -- the one thing you could count on was that Vito always and only acted in his own best interest and that of his family's.

But, if you opposed Vito, betrayed him, refused him, got in his way, or even if it was handy to find in you some way to symbolize an editorial to a wider audience ... well, Vito would kill you. It wasn't personal. It was only business. So, he'd assassinate a rival, take revenge for a betrayal, eliminate a competitor, leave the bleeding head of your slaughtered purebred racehorse in your bed while you slept ... and then go home, love his family, eat a good dinner, and sleep like a baby.

Vito wasn't crazy. Vito, while antisocial, wasn't sociopathic. Vito was evil; though, ironically, in possession of enough remnant goodness to wish for his son Michael any life but the one that he and his elder sons had chosen. If you've read the novel or seen the movie, you know that Vito didn't get his wish. Michael could not escape the gravity of his father's sins.

Yes, that's it. Osama bin Laden is like a Mafia Don. Small, petty, envious, insecure, resentful, self-serving, entitled, blithely narcissistic. A man who used power in hapless attempts to remediate his felt powerlessness.

Typical of my generation (Vietnam!), I practice patriotism by harboring a healthy suspicion of my government. I afford myself the right, indeed, I consider it my obligation to critically examine my country's judgment, values and motives. I respect authority chiefly by questioning authority. But, in this matter, I feel unwavering pride in America. For reasons of national security, I'll die never knowing the names of the Navy SEALs whose mission it was to end bin Laden's facsimile of a human life. But, in my imagination, if I did meet one of them, I would kneel before him in gratitude and lean my forehead on the top of his shoes.

In the meantime, ignominy reigns. Osama bin Laden "sleeps with the fishes." I assume some of those fish will be virgins.

For whatever good that will do him.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@ reviewjournal.com.