Boston

I lived in Boston for many many years and my heart is breaking tonight for the city that I love.

I had considered going in this weekend, but went on a road trip west, since I’m going in next weekend.  I arrived home in the late afternoon and flipped on the television to the same horror that everyone else had been watching for hours.  A great day of celebration gone so very wrong.

Last year I took some lovely pictures right in the area where tragedy happened.

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Some of my friends have been complaining about the coverage of Boston.  Evidently the media should not be covering Boston because similar things happen in Bagdad and Syria.

While I agree that there needs to be more and better coverage of tragedy around the world, the reality is that I’m always going to have a stronger emotional response to seeing a bomb in such a familiar place.  I’m always going to worry a little more when I’m waiting to hear if friends are okay.

It’s not that I feel Syrian lives are worth less than Bostonian lives.  It’s that I feel a closer connection to this tragedy.  And I’m shocked to see this happen in a place where it’s so unexpected.

Domestic terror (which is what they assume this is) feels like such a betrayal.  Terrorism is meant to scare and disrupt.  Normal is gone and something new has arrived.

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