This is the shot that Himself took with my camera an hour before the blast on Monday. That is THE spot of the first explosion. My blood chills when I look at it. Yesterday when I emerged from the subway there were uniformed officers everywhere and helicopters hovered over my office building all afternoon. The rumors flew. They caught someone. No, they didn't. There's been a fourth death. No, there hasn't. And all of it was making it to the airwaves of most radio and television stations. Journalism as we once knew it is dead as the dodo.
Some wise soul had a few paragraphs about the situation on Facebook. It's credited to Cam Siciliano of Springfield, and I don't know if he wrote it or just had the great taste to pass it on, but it speaks of how he doesn't want to know anything about the beast(s) who did this. Not their name, their face, how they were raised, or what the hell they thought they were doing. He only wants to hear that they have been given a life sentence for every life they took, and then he only wants to hear the brave stories of the heroes that have come out of this tragedy. He wants to hear how the one-legged are coping and fighting and continuing to believe in the basic goodness of people. It goes on, but that's the gist of it, and I agree with all my heart.
There have been some moments which brought me to tears. One was the Yankees playing "Sweet Caroline" at their game on Tuesday night. Class act. I shall have to work on hating them a little less, although, as every Bostonian knows, it's fun and it's mutual, and we've proven how deep the hatred goes, first on September 11 and then this past Monday. The second time I got misty was at the National Anthem at the Bruins game last night. I have never seen anyone given the opportunity to sing that very challenging song at a televised event who would have the grace and the sensitivity to back away and let the crowd take over the singing. The crowd did a wonderful job. They owned the song. And that, my friends, is what the National Anthem is for. It's for times like these, which are coming much too close together for anyone's taste. It's a song of strength and resilience and unity. And it was wicked awesome.
Some wise soul had a few paragraphs about the situation on Facebook. It's credited to Cam Siciliano of Springfield, and I don't know if he wrote it or just had the great taste to pass it on, but it speaks of how he doesn't want to know anything about the beast(s) who did this. Not their name, their face, how they were raised, or what the hell they thought they were doing. He only wants to hear that they have been given a life sentence for every life they took, and then he only wants to hear the brave stories of the heroes that have come out of this tragedy. He wants to hear how the one-legged are coping and fighting and continuing to believe in the basic goodness of people. It goes on, but that's the gist of it, and I agree with all my heart.
There have been some moments which brought me to tears. One was the Yankees playing "Sweet Caroline" at their game on Tuesday night. Class act. I shall have to work on hating them a little less, although, as every Bostonian knows, it's fun and it's mutual, and we've proven how deep the hatred goes, first on September 11 and then this past Monday. The second time I got misty was at the National Anthem at the Bruins game last night. I have never seen anyone given the opportunity to sing that very challenging song at a televised event who would have the grace and the sensitivity to back away and let the crowd take over the singing. The crowd did a wonderful job. They owned the song. And that, my friends, is what the National Anthem is for. It's for times like these, which are coming much too close together for anyone's taste. It's a song of strength and resilience and unity. And it was wicked awesome.
RSS Feed