I am a Boston girl. Marathon Monday is a day where you have the day off for Patriots Day, you spend time breathing in the spring air (preferably no where near the green line or you’ll catch more than a spring breeze…ha!), maybe catch a sox game, grab a hotdog, and hop down a block to see a few people cross the finish line in the famous 26.2 mile race of endurance. Just a typical Boston tradition that is timeless and you don’t think twice about.
My kids are a bit young for all the walking and crowd navigating a day like this would take. If they had been a little older, we may very likely have taken the trip in. I may have taken them past my school, pointing out the building where I spent a good year of my life in the darkroom labs, and then walking down the block toward finish line, where my cousins and family were all hanging out having a great time.
The events that occurred at the Boston Marathon this year were horrific, shocking, and close to home. My family, thank God, were ok but part of that panic stricken crowd of people who just had their nostalgic, innocent world shattered.
What now? I tried to stay away from the news, tried not to flip it on when the tweets started coming in… “He’s cornered, now!”… “We got him!”, I couldn’t help it. I flip through the channels to see the same image… an inferred camera shot of a young man curled up in a boat knowing his life is over, even if he comes out of this alive. “19 year old…” Something broke in me, some kind of motherly pang crept up inside me and I had the tiniest bit of compassion for this kid who did this monstrous thing. What happened to you?! I was taken by surprise by this reaction, by all means he blew up my city! After thinking about it for a while though, I was relieved… My reaction came naturally, I didn’t have to work on it, it just happened…and I knew that his mission failed, he couldn’t pass on his hate to me.
In the weeks that followed I did stop watching the news about whatever is happening with him. As far as I am concerned, he will be punished for his acts. It doesn’t matter to me where he is from or how he got here. I don’t want to listen to the political chatter of who should get what, and did we do enough? I HAVE seen the news about survivors and families whose loved one lives were lost. How communities have banned together to help and to heal. How people thought of creative ways to raise money for these families, and how a survivor who lost his legs rolls his wheel chair down the hall to another survivors room to give her a birthday present. These are stories of hope, love and unbending strength of the human heart.
In celebration of this strength, I designed a tshirt to raise money for the One Fund, a campaign to raise money for the families of those affected by the tragedy. The fundraiser is running for three days and I must sell at least 20 shirts for them to be printed and donated. I am happy to say that since I launched it yesterday I have had 14 shirts reserved! Yay! Only 6 more! All proceeds are being directly donated to One Fund. So check it out and order one for yourself, show the world how “wicked” cool you are! 🙂
Donation is made in memory of my Great Grandfather and Aunt. Thank You!
Chronicles of the Duct Taped Kids 