Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I was born at the Jersey Shore. My father was born in the Bronx. We were, are, and always will be New York Yankees fans. But unlike a lot of my fellow Yankee lovers I've never hated the Boston Red Sox. A few summers ago we took a New England vacation in search of our Salem witchery roots and Boston was one of the stops on our trail. I really loved the city. Its history, its rough-and-tumble edge. We didn't see a ballgame, but we did lots of other touristy things. We took a ride in a swan boat, we went to the aquarium, we went to the Museum of Fine Arts. We ate at Cheers. We drove and walked around town. We had a lot of chowdah.
I've been thinking a lot the past few days about faith, and what we all choose to believe. Although I don't believe all the pretty Bible stories, I do believe that God could walk as a man, woman or child (even animal) among us and might even do that on occasion. Maybe even more often than we think. But when confronted with the sort of human disaster of the past few days, all those beliefs and hopes seem shattered. All I can do right now is think about the innocent people who are gone and the people who are still grappling with their injuries, and all the people who are helping them and hoping for them and praying for them.
I'm so very sorry Boston, that this has happened to you. That this could happen to anyone anywhere.