As a kid growing up in Maine, and to a certain extent even now, Patriot’s Day for me (which is celebrated in Maine as well as Massachusetts) was all about the Red Sox, not the Boston Marathon.  Patriot’s Day marked the psychological end of Maine’s long, long winters.  Even though there may still have been snow on the ground, and the leaves wouldn’t be out on the trees for another four weeks or so.  

My childhood and young adulthood is full of awesome Boston memories.  When I was ten, my parents took our whole family to Boston for that season opener, and we EVEN CAUGHT A BALL!  There were shopping trips, and eating trips, and trips and more trips to see the Red Sox and Celtics play.  

I haven’t been to Boston in years.  But it has a hold on my heart.  It’s the city that made me feel comfortable in a city.  Where I learned to negotiate the streets and mass transit without getting too lost.  Where I first went to restaurants with friends on our own, ordered, paid the bill and calculated the correct tip. It’s the city that made me realize that if I could figure out its crazy named, unorganized, one-way streets, then NYC’s grid was easy peasy japanesey. 

Yesterday’s bombing sucked.  Do you know what sucks more? That nearly every country in this world has had its heart ripped out like this.  That people of nearly every nation understand what Boston is going through right now.  This is a commonality that no one should have to share.  And it sucks that it does. 

But here’s something that doesn’t suck: somehow a little Sweet Caroline at Fenway Park can make the whole world seem a little bit better.






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