I’ll keep this post simple. I am alternately angry, sad, frightened, determined and resigned. Yesterday was certainly not about any one person, it’s about the world and how the wheels have come off and how we are again, changed forever.
Safely one town away in Cambridge, I was curious as to what was up with all the sirens coming from police and fire trucks in Cambridge and Somerville. I just can’t comprehend what’s going on in the world and in my new home in Boston.
I certainly know that there’s no comparison in scale to 9-11. But having watched from my Manhattan office window as the second plane hit the south tower with a life-altering explosion, all those feelings and thoughts came rushing back yesterday. What did eight year-old Martin Richard of Dorchester do to deserve this? This is at his First Communion.
One of things I will always remember about 9-11 is what a glorious day it was. Not a cloud in the sky, a crisp, sunny September day. Similarly, Patriots Day in Boston is a day of celebration, festivities, love and families. My Red Sox had won in a walk-off, with the guys doing the jumping at home plate and second base. Then we were jolted backed into reality. It wasn’t just “rain on the parade,” it was all the floats blowing up or burning.
As of now, three dead, 154 people hurt including about 10 children, 41 people critically injured with at least 10 people losing limbs. According the local news reports, police last night searched a housing complex in nearby Revere.
I’ll share that there have been times since I moved to Boston that while driving down Memorial Drive or over the Longfellow Bridge I would see a jet plane across the horizon that appears to be lower than the height of the Prudential and Hancock buildings. Intellectually, I know the plane in miles behind the buildings. But the visual is there. More than once I would pull over and try to regroup.
There are so many questions that remain and I won’t speculate on them. I know this is self-indulging but I can only say that sometimes I think this sh– is following me around. I know it’s not about me but I witnessed 9-11, lived in Danbury, Brookfield and New Milford—all towns next to Newtown, and now this. One of the positives I thought I would take from moving to Boston was that I could distance myself from the unimaginable tragedies that I felt connected to. Guess not.
Please, I’m begging, make it stop.