My City

Maybe it's premature to write about this at the moment, but I felt the need to get something down.

Today there was a terrorist attack in my hometown of Boston. As of yet, there are two confirmed deaths and many, many more injured. Some have lost limbs, and while I hope dearly that no one else dies, I think it is unlikely that this will remain the case.

I got the news while sitting in a diner on Pico. I saw their television was showing footage of a reporter with a familiar Fox 25 news microphone, and who seemed to be shouting about something happening. In Boston, 25 is Fox's channel, where I grew up watching the Simpsons, so I knew that something big had just happened in my home town. I checked my phone to discover that there had been a bombing.

As a child, one of our annual traditions was to head out to Beacon Street, near Newton City Hall, to watch the runners come by during the marathon. My sister and I would stand there with paper cups filled with water or orange slices for the runners to take if they needed them.

It's a great big gathering, where people bring their kids. The marathon itself is something more than a race. Sure, you get the real athletes out at the front, who actually intend to finish first, but the marathon is, for most people, just a self-challenge, and a way to be part of the Boston community. Just as the runners contribute by racing, we felt part of the action by cheering them on.

There is nothing ugly about the marathon. The competition is perfectly friendly. I remember that there were even a number of people who ran the marathon as a way to entertain. I distinctly remember a man who ran the entire thing with a hat that held a beer can suspended on a wire in front of his face, and he acted like a cartoon character, chasing that beer all 26 miles.

I left home for college when I was 18, and while I spent summers there, Boston has always been my city of childhood innocence. Sure, I know that it is not a perfect utopia, but the image of it in my head is one of that simpler conception of the world that one has as a child. To me, Boston was the city. It was the place where you went to see more exciting things, to experience culture or the grand events that only a big city can pull off, like First Night at New Years or watching the fireworks over the Charles River on the 4th of July. I spent many a Saturday at the Museum of Science, or the Children's Museum. My mom would walk us around the Freedom Trail.

I do not know who died in the attack, though I am deeply sorry for them and their loved ones. I am deeply sorry to the people who were hurt there, who may have injuries that will stay with them for the rest of their lives. I am sorry for everyone who shared in my deep love for Boston, who saw an act of violence against our city and an act of violence against our most innocent pleasures.

In time, we will move on. The city is not about to crumble because of this. The shock of the event will wear off, and Boston will continue to thrive. When the smoke has cleared, and when hopefully everyone else is saved, we will begin to search for whoever was responsible for this cruel and unconscionable act.

And people will misinterpret, and people will capitalize. People will be disrespectful or misguided. I know that that is what happens after these sorts of things.

I only hope that we do not allow this crime to drag our hearts and dreams and memories into darkness.