Yesterday, I set up my perfunctory tax day blog post and scheduled it to appear in the evening, then I set out to run a bunch of errands. Little did I know that a horrific terrorist attack had taken place at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. What a horror.
My heart goes out to the people of Boston, a city which I have loved since I was a small child. While my dad was in grad school, my family lived in the Boston suburb of Waltham, and we often took trips to the inner city, with visits to Boston Common being a particular treat. Make Way for Ducklings, a quintessential Boston classic, has been a favorite book of mine since childhood. Throughout the years, Boston has been a familiar destination for me. My sister and my good friend J-Co both attended college in the Boston metro area, so I could always count on a bunch of friends piling into somebody's car for a weekend road trip to the Boston environs.
I have many happy memories of hanging out at Faneuil Hall, lounging on the Governement Center steps, crossing the Smoot Bridge to Cambridge, making a pilgrimage to see "Old Ironsides", taking the T to the suburbs to see friends. Boston has long been a "second home" to me. To think that someone would attack happy marathon attendees, who came from all over the world to cheer on the runners, on Patriots' Day makes me heartsick.
Here's keeping the people of Boston in my thoughts, and hoping that the perpetrator of this fould deed is caught and brought to justice.
POSTSCRIPT: I am in awe at the heroism of the first responders and the civilians on the scene who stepped up and began administering to the wounded in the immediate aftermath of the attacks. To think that someone, having run the marathon, would then proceed immediately to the hospital to donate blood is mind-boggling.