addendum to previous post
A little more that I meant to say in my post about the Boston Marathon bombings and aftermath.
mogwar's comment reminded me that I meant to say about the 8-year-old boy who was killed -- when I first heard this, I freaked out. Earlier, the morning of the marathon, I had spoken on the phone to the mom of one of Isaac's friends -- we were trying to arrange to get our kids together to work on their science-fair project -- and she said that her husband, who was off work for the holiday, was planning to take their two sons into the city to watch the Marathon. Well, their younger son is 8, so like I said, when I heard that an 8-year-old boy had died, I got pretty worried. I tried calling the dad's cell phone, but no answer -- cell service was very patchy that afternoon with too many people trying to call each other. Then I wasn't sure how long was appropriate to wait before calling someone to say "is your kid alive?" -- we are friendly with this family but they aren't like our closest friends or anything. I think I decided to wait, and then the name of the dead boy was released so I knew it wasn't him, but I called anyway. The mom told me that her menfolk did go down to watch, but they only stayed a little while and left before the bombs went off, so they weren't even aware of it. She said that they walked in the door at home just as she was turning on the TV and hearing the news for the first time, so it was good timing -- if she had turned on the TV five minutes sooner she might have really freaked out.
I knew three people who ran the marathon this year: two were a couple with kids who live in my area, who were running to raise money for the agency one of them works for, which helps homeless people find housing. Within a short time after the bombings, their friends were sharing on Facebook that they were accounted for and okay. Both were near, but not yet at, the finish line when it happened. The other person I knew who was running was the director of my kids' afterschool program; she was also running for charity. I had no contacts in common with her, but I hoped to see her at vacation-week camp the next day when I dropped my kids off; the camp is run by the same agency that runs the afterschool program. But she wasn't there. So I asked another staffer, and he said that he was Facebook-friends with her and she had posted that she was okay. She reappeared on Thursday, having taken two days off to recover physically and emotionally.
So, I felt relief that none of the people I knew who were in the vicinity were hurt. Then, after that, I felt guilt about my relief. The fact that I didn't know Martin Richard doesn't make his death any less terrible. The fact that I don't know any of the other people who died, or the people who were injured, doesn't make the whole thing any better. But this is human nature, isn't it: we have to look for a connection first, we can feel it more keenly if there's some thread tying us personally to what happened. The alleged bombers grew up in my hometown and went to my high school. Two of the dead were from the town where I live now. The 8-year-old boy who died was probably a lot like the 8-year-old boy my son used to be. Personal connections.
The afternoon/evening of marathon day, Isaac had a Little League practice, which went ahead as usual. The field where the practice took place is right next to I-93, one of the major highways leading into Boston. As we were standing there, at one point a long string of police cars went by on the highway, heading toward the city -- probably two dozen or more in a row, all speeding by with their sirens and lights going. They were state and local police both. I guess they were going as backup to help secure the crime scene and the hospitals and so forth. It was kind of weird and freaky to see that, while we were hanging out in the lovely sunshine under a blue sky, on the green grass, playing baseball.
And now I think that really is everything I want to say about it. Probably. Unless I remember something else later. ;)
mogwar's comment reminded me that I meant to say about the 8-year-old boy who was killed -- when I first heard this, I freaked out. Earlier, the morning of the marathon, I had spoken on the phone to the mom of one of Isaac's friends -- we were trying to arrange to get our kids together to work on their science-fair project -- and she said that her husband, who was off work for the holiday, was planning to take their two sons into the city to watch the Marathon. Well, their younger son is 8, so like I said, when I heard that an 8-year-old boy had died, I got pretty worried. I tried calling the dad's cell phone, but no answer -- cell service was very patchy that afternoon with too many people trying to call each other. Then I wasn't sure how long was appropriate to wait before calling someone to say "is your kid alive?" -- we are friendly with this family but they aren't like our closest friends or anything. I think I decided to wait, and then the name of the dead boy was released so I knew it wasn't him, but I called anyway. The mom told me that her menfolk did go down to watch, but they only stayed a little while and left before the bombs went off, so they weren't even aware of it. She said that they walked in the door at home just as she was turning on the TV and hearing the news for the first time, so it was good timing -- if she had turned on the TV five minutes sooner she might have really freaked out.
I knew three people who ran the marathon this year: two were a couple with kids who live in my area, who were running to raise money for the agency one of them works for, which helps homeless people find housing. Within a short time after the bombings, their friends were sharing on Facebook that they were accounted for and okay. Both were near, but not yet at, the finish line when it happened. The other person I knew who was running was the director of my kids' afterschool program; she was also running for charity. I had no contacts in common with her, but I hoped to see her at vacation-week camp the next day when I dropped my kids off; the camp is run by the same agency that runs the afterschool program. But she wasn't there. So I asked another staffer, and he said that he was Facebook-friends with her and she had posted that she was okay. She reappeared on Thursday, having taken two days off to recover physically and emotionally.
So, I felt relief that none of the people I knew who were in the vicinity were hurt. Then, after that, I felt guilt about my relief. The fact that I didn't know Martin Richard doesn't make his death any less terrible. The fact that I don't know any of the other people who died, or the people who were injured, doesn't make the whole thing any better. But this is human nature, isn't it: we have to look for a connection first, we can feel it more keenly if there's some thread tying us personally to what happened. The alleged bombers grew up in my hometown and went to my high school. Two of the dead were from the town where I live now. The 8-year-old boy who died was probably a lot like the 8-year-old boy my son used to be. Personal connections.
The afternoon/evening of marathon day, Isaac had a Little League practice, which went ahead as usual. The field where the practice took place is right next to I-93, one of the major highways leading into Boston. As we were standing there, at one point a long string of police cars went by on the highway, heading toward the city -- probably two dozen or more in a row, all speeding by with their sirens and lights going. They were state and local police both. I guess they were going as backup to help secure the crime scene and the hospitals and so forth. It was kind of weird and freaky to see that, while we were hanging out in the lovely sunshine under a blue sky, on the green grass, playing baseball.
And now I think that really is everything I want to say about it. Probably. Unless I remember something else later. ;)