This is the land of the living
I preface this post by saying I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I am so so grateful...words cannot express how grateful I am that I am safe. That Mastermind is safe. That everyone I know here in Boston is safe. My fears and grief has nothing on that of the 170+ people directly affected. But I am so shaken.
I sat in front my computer screen Monday afternoon anxious. First 22 injured. Then 30. Then 50. Eventually 170. Trying, in vain, to work on my research proposal. Continually checking twitter for updates. Continually walking away. Continually telling myself that no, they didn't need me downtown. They had enough people and I would only get in the way. Continually sending out and receiving texts. Continually crying. When Mastermind - who works just blocks away from the bombings - came home we clung to each other and wept. And didn't leave each others' sides for nearly 24 hours.
I heard from people I hadn't heard from in a long time: Smandypants, Leash, Lisa, Megan, Dan... I even heard from Pirate. And as my city has struggled over the past several days to come to grips with things, to mourn, to make some sort of sense, to try to piece it together, I feel like my world has been irrevocably changed. And it is so so sad. And so so scary.
For the past 5 years I've watched the marathon. I've never gone into the downtown, because I never knew anyone first-hand who was running. But I always watched at the sidelines and cheered people on and had wonderful times. This year I was going to volunteer for a med tent. I'm glad I decided, at the last minute, not to. I'm not sure I could have been on the frontlines of something like that. Well...I know I could have. My adrenaline would have kicked in and I would have felt that old familiar autopilot capable buzz. But at what subsequent emotional cost? So many people decided not to go at the last minute. It seems many of my friends, professors, and strangers got pulled away by something only moments before. There but for the grace of God go we.
Today I woke up early, dressed for work, and walked to the train station. I was just about to get on my bus, reading the Metro - a daily mini-newspaper Boston has - when I thought about the memorial service. Mastermind had said he had gotten a excuse to miss class so he could go to the Memorial Service being held in the South End in order to counter-protest the Westboro baptist church. And as I stood there I just thought, "I can't miss this." And I called Cindy and asked for an excuse to miss my day doing the grad assistant thing.
And so Mastermind and I went to the memorial. Of course we couldn't get in. Some people had been waiting in line for 12 hours, we heard. But we stood, 2 of a thousand people, in protest against the Westboro Baptist Church and it was amazing and exhilarating and I couldn't have been prouder. We scared away those coward bastards and they never showed up. And once my sunburn became too painful and Mastermind's feet got too sore, we went and had delicious coffees, lemon pound cake, walked around in the sunshine of the South End, and smelled hyacinths.
I am drained. I have spent the last several days reading news reports, watching footage, looking at pictures, checking and posting on twitter, checking in with friends, having fitful sleeps, and crying. Grieving. For Boston's lost and the loss of all the families', and also the generosity and love and kindness of all who have supported this wonderful city, its people, the victims, and their families. Boston, I have loved you ever since I first set eyes on you. And I'm not about to leave you now.
This song was written by Lucy Kaplansky after 9-11. I have been listening to it to help me grieve. We are the land of the living. I recommend listening to it without watching the video. Not because the video is bad or upsetting. But just because the song is so beautiful I think the video distracts.
I sat in front my computer screen Monday afternoon anxious. First 22 injured. Then 30. Then 50. Eventually 170. Trying, in vain, to work on my research proposal. Continually checking twitter for updates. Continually walking away. Continually telling myself that no, they didn't need me downtown. They had enough people and I would only get in the way. Continually sending out and receiving texts. Continually crying. When Mastermind - who works just blocks away from the bombings - came home we clung to each other and wept. And didn't leave each others' sides for nearly 24 hours.
I heard from people I hadn't heard from in a long time: Smandypants, Leash, Lisa, Megan, Dan... I even heard from Pirate. And as my city has struggled over the past several days to come to grips with things, to mourn, to make some sort of sense, to try to piece it together, I feel like my world has been irrevocably changed. And it is so so sad. And so so scary.
For the past 5 years I've watched the marathon. I've never gone into the downtown, because I never knew anyone first-hand who was running. But I always watched at the sidelines and cheered people on and had wonderful times. This year I was going to volunteer for a med tent. I'm glad I decided, at the last minute, not to. I'm not sure I could have been on the frontlines of something like that. Well...I know I could have. My adrenaline would have kicked in and I would have felt that old familiar autopilot capable buzz. But at what subsequent emotional cost? So many people decided not to go at the last minute. It seems many of my friends, professors, and strangers got pulled away by something only moments before. There but for the grace of God go we.
Today I woke up early, dressed for work, and walked to the train station. I was just about to get on my bus, reading the Metro - a daily mini-newspaper Boston has - when I thought about the memorial service. Mastermind had said he had gotten a excuse to miss class so he could go to the Memorial Service being held in the South End in order to counter-protest the Westboro baptist church. And as I stood there I just thought, "I can't miss this." And I called Cindy and asked for an excuse to miss my day doing the grad assistant thing.
And so Mastermind and I went to the memorial. Of course we couldn't get in. Some people had been waiting in line for 12 hours, we heard. But we stood, 2 of a thousand people, in protest against the Westboro Baptist Church and it was amazing and exhilarating and I couldn't have been prouder. We scared away those coward bastards and they never showed up. And once my sunburn became too painful and Mastermind's feet got too sore, we went and had delicious coffees, lemon pound cake, walked around in the sunshine of the South End, and smelled hyacinths.
I am drained. I have spent the last several days reading news reports, watching footage, looking at pictures, checking and posting on twitter, checking in with friends, having fitful sleeps, and crying. Grieving. For Boston's lost and the loss of all the families', and also the generosity and love and kindness of all who have supported this wonderful city, its people, the victims, and their families. Boston, I have loved you ever since I first set eyes on you. And I'm not about to leave you now.
This song was written by Lucy Kaplansky after 9-11. I have been listening to it to help me grieve. We are the land of the living. I recommend listening to it without watching the video. Not because the video is bad or upsetting. But just because the song is so beautiful I think the video distracts.
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