I was leaving Mass on Sunday evening, May 1, when my wife called to tell me Osama Bin Laden was dead.

She was surprised at my reaction. I said something like: Uh-huh.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. "Bin Laden is dead."

Yeah, I heard.

Again I didn't react as Pat expected. She thought I'd be gleeful.

Maybe it's my personality. 

Maybe it's because I was coming out of church, where the themes, once again, were peace and love.

When I arrived at home, the TV was showing images of Americans cheering and dancing in the streets. I was appalled.

The "USA, USA, USA" chant made it seem as if the last 10 years had been some kind of game. 

I became concerned. What was wrong with me? 

I have thought a lot about my reaction every day since then. I don't mind that Bin Laden is dead. It's probably good for all of mankind. But I'm not giddy about it.

The more I think on it, the more I believe what happened to me is  Vietnam Syndrome. The political division in this country wore me down. 

I love this country. I love the free enterprise system. I love how we are allowed to capitalize on an idea or need for financial gain. 

I didn't run to Canada during Vietnam. Neither did my brothers. But the in-fighting to which Vietnam led finally got to me about 1973. I wanted us out.

Regarding Sept. 11, 2001, I was at my computer writing a story  when I caught the first hint of the Twin Towers attack. I called Pat and asked her to turn on the TV and tell me what she saw. 

Then I started to hear the most incredible story I'd ever heard. I put down the phone and headed for home.

By then, TV was replaying that horrible morning, over and over and over. Then they started to show people jumping hundreds of feet to avoid a burning death.

My heart broke. I started to cry. I tried to stop the tears, but I couldn't. I had no idea who those people were, but I was crying.

And I was angry.

Soon there were TV images of thousands, perhaps millions, dancing in the streets of the Middle East. I was incensed to the point of agreeing with a friend who said we should nuke them.

My anger grew as the towers went down. It grew again when the dust cleared and you could see the rubble. I would have killed Bin Laden myself had I been given the opportunity, and I wouldn't have stopped with him.

I was proud of George Bush when he went to what is now known as Ground Zero and made his "They will hear from all of us" pronouncements.

For a moment, maybe a month, the vast majority of the USA was swept up by a common cause. Somebody was going to pay.

Then we started to fall apart. Actually the first chipping away came within 24 hours. While the military was carrying out its duty of taking Bush to safe harbor, ABC anchorman Peter Jennings was all but calling him a coward. 

Then things became worse.

Even though the people dancing in the streets told us, we argued over who the enemy was. We argued about whether to retaliate. We argued about when, where or how.

The American left brought up the specter of Vietnam. They were so insistent it seemed as if they were hoping for it.

Soon, as poll numbers started to drop, Bush started to visit mosques to declare we were not at war with Islam. He became ambivalent about the enemy, and our second Vietnam started.

Everything became confused. Anti-war sentiment started to grow in Bush's second term. The poll numbers reflected the views of the left and also mine.

I became angry at Bush for not prosecuting the war full force. He had turned to the exact recipe for our defeat in Vietnam. 

As the prospect of a 10- or 15-year war loomed, I started to want us out. I couldn't see us going through another waste of dead soldiers and maimed veterans.

Then, in 2008, the country elected as president one of the men who led the left's charge against Bush's early efforts, a man who didn't care if we ever got Bin Laden, a man who, as a senator, had helped confuse the nation as to the enemy.

Incensed at our political state of affairs, I lost sight of Bin Laden. I became indifferent to him. For the longest time I honestly thought he was either dead or so ill (from his kidneys) that he was no longer a factor.

On May 1, it no longer mattered to me if we killed Bin Laden. His mission had been accomplished. He had us in total disarray. 

We don't know who we are, and we're fighting three wars at once. Seems to me I read an old adage somewhere about divide and conquer. 

The death of Bin Laden alone will never make up for 9-11. Nor will it make up for everything we've done to ourselves over the last 10 years. 

I fear Bin Laden's legacy will live on in future terrorist attacks against the United States. And I fear we'll continue to react as he gambled we would.

President Obama can thump his chest. So can George Bush. I won't. I'm in no mood for celebration. 

I am still weeping for America.