My cell phone rang at 3 a.m. I looked down to see that it was my wife’s Aunt Jan calling. She lives on the West Coast and is a bit of a night owl. I wondered if maybe she called by mistake, so I didn’t pick it up; I decided to wait and see if she left a message, which would signal intent. A minute or so later, sure enough, the little voicemail icon popped up. So I listened. I thought you’d want to know—the bombing has started. I called her back gratefully. Yes, I sure did want to know.Right now,...