Viva Boston!
Only Massachusetts celebrates what it calls Patriots' Day. Yes, Maine does too but Maine was forced into it because for longer than it's been a state, it was a province within the commonwealth of Massachusetts. Nobody else cares to celebrate the shot heard round the world.
When I lived in Maine we used to equate Patriots Day with our native son Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and go around reciting the famous lines of his famously patriotic poem.
"Listen my children and you shall hear,
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere."
That was the best we could do on an annoying day the mail wasn't delivered and banks were closed just for us.
From now on though, I think Patriots' Day will be famously remembered for the midday run of a marathon revered. People will say: "Listen my children and do not fear.
The shock heard round the world from here."
And they won't be annoyed now that we all know what patriots really do.
As the writer Dennis Lehane said the morning after in The New York Times and President Obama said at the memorial service two days later, the cowards picked on the wrong place at the wrong time. The bullies blasted the wrong people. Boston has stood its ground for almost 500 years; its roots are extremely strong and deep. It's still standing because it stands for something.
I've been spending time in Boston for over 40 years, yet I never stop being terrified of its traffic and horrified by its lack of signs-- someone once said that's because you're supposed to learn the traffic pattern at Harvard or MIT. I've suffered the frustrations of its blizzards, blight and Big Dig. But I love that city with all my heart and all my terrifying frustrations because with its masterful hospitals, magnificent universities and museums, elegant parkways and rivers, harbor, food and music, it's no place else in the world.
So those dastardly cowards with sludge clogged minds who tried to blow it to smithereens made me cry. But watching Boston run made me feel brighter right away. That town really does have the beans.
Boston was America's first major feat of civil engineering. A river runs through it, a harbor laps and the elegant Back Bay is landfill between all that and the fens, a fen being a lowland marsh frequently flooded and not really a ballpark. Being New Englanders thrifty and self-reliant, Bostonians aren't going to let all that effort to build a sturdy city ever go to waste.
Boston is America's bastion of brains--when winding along Storrow Drive, I always think I feel the heat of them cooking in all those universities. And it's a bastion of brawn: the Irish who gave the town the name of its legendary basketball team, Celtics. Its unique unity of town and gown was immortalized by the late Robert Parker as the stomping ground of his witty gritty detective Spencer who has a PhD Jewish girlfriend and black stud hitman. Its unique unity was immortalized on TV as Cheers.
The Boston marathon is one of the world's oldest sporting events, one of its most universally beloved (there seemed to be an astonishing 1,000 runners for every mile of its course) and probably its most gentlemanly and understated, right along with its autumn sibling, the Head of the Charles regatta. Let us not forget the elegant rowing marathon too.
This year Mother Nature gave the river of runners a spring break with coatless temperatures and sunshine. It was a perfect day. So when joy and ice cream and kids and prowess were suddenly upended by the greatest blow on earth, the thousands who were still running for the finish line when somebody messed with the goal did not turn back. They knew what the goal was now.
The greatest medical centers in the universe processed all that carnage without a hiccup. The Italian mayor, Irish police chief and black governor (the state house is in the city) were prompt with the public, poised and dignified. There were no antics or grandstanding or gaffes like telling people to go shopping. There was just a focused marathon effort to staunch the blood and seek the suspects. Boston showed the world it has more than classes. Unlike any other American city, it has class.
~Sandy Garson "Wordsmithing to attest how the Dharma saved me from myself!"
http://www.sandygarson.com
http://yoursinthedharma.blogspot.com/
Technorati Tags: Yours In The Dharma, Sandy Garson, Dharma, Buddhist, Buddhism, Spirituality, Religion
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Click here to request Sandy Garson for reprint permission.
Yours In The Dharma 2001-2010, Sandy Garson Copyright 2001-2010 Sandy Garson
When I lived in Maine we used to equate Patriots Day with our native son Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and go around reciting the famous lines of his famously patriotic poem.
"Listen my children and you shall hear,
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere."
That was the best we could do on an annoying day the mail wasn't delivered and banks were closed just for us.
From now on though, I think Patriots' Day will be famously remembered for the midday run of a marathon revered. People will say: "Listen my children and do not fear.
The shock heard round the world from here."
And they won't be annoyed now that we all know what patriots really do.
As the writer Dennis Lehane said the morning after in The New York Times and President Obama said at the memorial service two days later, the cowards picked on the wrong place at the wrong time. The bullies blasted the wrong people. Boston has stood its ground for almost 500 years; its roots are extremely strong and deep. It's still standing because it stands for something.
I've been spending time in Boston for over 40 years, yet I never stop being terrified of its traffic and horrified by its lack of signs-- someone once said that's because you're supposed to learn the traffic pattern at Harvard or MIT. I've suffered the frustrations of its blizzards, blight and Big Dig. But I love that city with all my heart and all my terrifying frustrations because with its masterful hospitals, magnificent universities and museums, elegant parkways and rivers, harbor, food and music, it's no place else in the world.
So those dastardly cowards with sludge clogged minds who tried to blow it to smithereens made me cry. But watching Boston run made me feel brighter right away. That town really does have the beans.
Boston was America's first major feat of civil engineering. A river runs through it, a harbor laps and the elegant Back Bay is landfill between all that and the fens, a fen being a lowland marsh frequently flooded and not really a ballpark. Being New Englanders thrifty and self-reliant, Bostonians aren't going to let all that effort to build a sturdy city ever go to waste.
Boston is America's bastion of brains--when winding along Storrow Drive, I always think I feel the heat of them cooking in all those universities. And it's a bastion of brawn: the Irish who gave the town the name of its legendary basketball team, Celtics. Its unique unity of town and gown was immortalized by the late Robert Parker as the stomping ground of his witty gritty detective Spencer who has a PhD Jewish girlfriend and black stud hitman. Its unique unity was immortalized on TV as Cheers.
The Boston marathon is one of the world's oldest sporting events, one of its most universally beloved (there seemed to be an astonishing 1,000 runners for every mile of its course) and probably its most gentlemanly and understated, right along with its autumn sibling, the Head of the Charles regatta. Let us not forget the elegant rowing marathon too.
This year Mother Nature gave the river of runners a spring break with coatless temperatures and sunshine. It was a perfect day. So when joy and ice cream and kids and prowess were suddenly upended by the greatest blow on earth, the thousands who were still running for the finish line when somebody messed with the goal did not turn back. They knew what the goal was now.
The greatest medical centers in the universe processed all that carnage without a hiccup. The Italian mayor, Irish police chief and black governor (the state house is in the city) were prompt with the public, poised and dignified. There were no antics or grandstanding or gaffes like telling people to go shopping. There was just a focused marathon effort to staunch the blood and seek the suspects. Boston showed the world it has more than classes. Unlike any other American city, it has class.
Besides the marathon and regatta, besides its Patriots and pubs, hospitals and schools, harbor and traffic, beans, tea and symphony, Boston is known around the world for its instantly recognizable accent. You know, the missing "r" in the silly: "pahked my cah in Hahvahd yahd." So in the local dialect, terror becomes "terra" and horror "hahrah." And there you have the Boston Marathon on Patriots' Day: hurrah terra! It gored the bull of terror determined to gory it. I say: olé!
~Sandy Garson "Wordsmithing to attest how the Dharma saved me from myself!"
http://www.sandygarson.com
http://yoursinthedharma.blogspot.com/
Technorati Tags: Yours In The Dharma, Sandy Garson, Dharma, Buddhist, Buddhism, Spirituality, Religion
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.Click here to request Sandy Garson for reprint permission.
Labels: Boston bombings., Boston marathon, Patriots Day
posted by Sandy Garson @ 10:34 PM
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