Afghans Rage at Young Lovers – a Father Says Kill Them Both – NYTimes.com

Afghans Rage at Young Lovers – a Father Says Kill Them Both – NYTimes.com

It was the beginning of an Afghan love story that flouted dominant traditions of arranged marriages and close family scrutiny, a romance between two teenagers of different ethnicities that tested a village’s tolerance for more modern whims of the heart. The results were delivered with brutal speed.

This month, a group of men spotted the couple riding together in a car, yanked them into the road and began to interrogate the boy and girl. Why were they together? What right had they? An angry crowd of 300 surged around them, calling them adulterers and demanding that they be stoned to death or hanged.

Every so often, there is a story or a picture that reminds me (and should remind every citizen) that I am lucky to have been born in the United States of America.  This is one of those stories.

When Did This Happen?

As some of you know, this past Sunday was my 31st birthday. What you might not have known is that on said birthday, I think I skipped some years. Because apparently, I’m 47 years old now. Let me explain.

Back in the day (don’t you love overused phrases? I know I do!), I could stay up with anybody. 1am, 2am, even 3am…no problem. In fact, back when I was building the company application for dad’s business, 2am was standard. Go to work during normal business hours, and code on that app from about 10pm-2am. It was nothing. Get up at 5am to start the process all over again? Sure. Bring it.

Alas, I am now 47 years old. I go to bed (routinely) between 9:30pm and 10pm. I even have to have a mid-evening nap sometimes just to make it to 10. I’m old.

What freaked me out even more is that I have started to drink coffee. Wait, let me preface that. You hardcore, addicted, coffee nuts are probably going to shoot bullets at me for even calling what I drink coffee, but bear with me. I have NEVER liked coffee. I tried it once when I was 15 and then tried once again when I got to college. Never liked it. Didn’t appeal at all. I even wondered why it was so freaking popular because it was so nasty.

My mistake both of those times was trying to drink coffee straight. Not black, just with a couple of creamers or such. Not the way to start, apparently. No, it took someone introducing me to the idea of a mocha to get me drinking it. (This is, in fact, all your fault, Aaron.) Sugar eases everything! On a recent business trip, he got me a peppermint mocha from Starbucks. Pretty good, actually. Mostly because I love all things peppermint. Got one last week. Expensive (who knew?!), but good. So, this morning, what do I end up with? Mocha, minus the peppermint. At this rate, I’ll be drinking straight black by Labor Day. Balls.

Anyway, the point is I feel old. I actually need a lot of sleep and I’m starting to drink coffee. I might be the oldest 30-turned-47-year old you know.