Tears for Boston

“So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, ‘The good outnumber you, and we always will.’” – Patton Oswalt

Boston is my home. It is my birthplace. It is a city whose summers are filled with sunshine, whose winters are unpredictable, and whose people, though often characterized as cold or stubborn or unfriendly, are traditionally hard-working blue-collar folk. The type of folk who look out for their own, but won’t hesitate to help a stranger who needs it.

Today, Boston weeps and I with her. My eyes hurt from the tears I’ve shed. I don’t even know how this works, because I rarely if ever cry, but my throat burns. I can’t stop these tears.

I hurt because the injured and dead are my people. My city has been attacked. Families have been torn apart, and an eight-year-old child lies dead. My city is wounded and I am away.

I am still processing my emotions, I don’t know where these tears are coming from. My family was not at the marathon and my friends are safe. Patriot’s Day was never a day spent in town, as we call the city, but rather a day to celebrate the true first days of spring in New England. It was day spent with beers hidden in plastic cups on the hill at UMass, or spent lingering by the reservoir in Waltham. This day will never be the same for my folks in Massachusetts. It will always forever be a day of hurt, and that makes the tears come again.

I never thought Boston was immune to an attack like this, but you never think it would hit the streets you’ve walked with happiness so many times. The streets that you navigate without knowing it…

I have no wisdom or wit to share with you today, I have only myself and my tears.

May you remember that the good outnumber those that do evil, and forever will.

Amen. Blessed be. http://civic.mit.edu/blog/petey/my-friend-martin

Author’s Note: I grew up in the Waltham/Watertown/Belmont area. The events of April 18th and 19th happened down the street from where I went to kindergarten, down the street from where I got my hair, and down the street from a family I used to babysit for. My friend, Chris Peterson, babysat for Martin Richard and his family during the summer. In memorial, he and his colleagues at MIT founded a fund to help support the Richard family. Please donate at http://richardfamilyfund.org/#donate  Chris’s story can be found at http://civic.mit.edu/blog/petey/my-friend-martin Thank you -B

(Shout out to the Church of the Larger Fellowship for their on-line worship that let me let my tears go. Thank you. Join them at www.questformeaning.org)

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