Today is the fourth anniversary of 9/11. I cannot think of anything witty, wise, touching, or insightful, in part because as I type one child is practicing the viola and the other is practicing the piano. But I suppose that is a good sign — instead of apocalypse, there is normalcy at home. When the news came that New Orleans was flooded, I knew it was a natural, not al-Qaida disaster. I don’t worry when I watch a ball game that the stadium will go up in a gout of fire; I don’t worry during large, symbolic events that disaster lurks in the shadows. The fighting is distant, and the struggle now is chiefly fought by means other than death and destruction. Our hand is reaching out to help far more than it is clenched to strike. Yes, an enemy strikes at our allies, and our soldiers in far off lands, but at home there is a measure of safety for us but denied to our enemies. And we are winning the war by every measure – Islamic fascism is less strong, less popular, is losing ground world wide. The war is not over, and likely to be a generational struggle, but this war is the rarest of wars as it now looks to leave the world better off than when it started. The greatest danger to us is complacently, of stopping or turning our attention away too soon, because our enemy certainly hasn’t given up, and could unleash far worse than 4 airplanes.