Yesterday afternoon was a beautifully crisp spring day. In Boston, the annual celebration of Patriots Day took place, with a late morning Red Sox game and the running of the Boston Marathon. At about 2:30, I checked the Internet and found out the winners names and their times. The Sox had won and as I stood outside waiting for my cab, I breathed in the magnificence of the day. It finally felt like spring.
Roughly two hours later, the grey taxi pulled up and I entered. "Hey, what's up?" I said. "Did you hear about the bombing at the marathon?" The driver said. I told him I had not and then listened intently as the commentator discussed the carnage in Boston. I left the cab and stopped off to visit a friend who was working at a bar. With no intentions of staying for a drink, I found myself fixated on the television. The numbers were vague, but they estimated 23 people had been hurt and two were deceased. I left shortly after, walking slowly down the street thinking about those poor unexpecting people. I then got home and, as I frequently do, I went online. The speculation, negativity and prejudice was flying everywhere. It sickened me. I then left my home and went out and spoke more about this. Cooler heads seemed to surround me, which gave me comfort.
When I got home around 12:30 at night, I laid in bed and I thought about this week and the future. I thought about seeing pictures of my friend's wedding. I thought about how there was no reaction of anything but happiness when I saw her and her beautiful wife. I thought about this weekend, when I commented on a couple I frequently see and how amazing it is that every time I see them, they are as silly and giddy to be together as they first met. She happens to be black and he happens to be white. Their happiness is what stands out. I thought about my inability to share in my brother's graduation from basic training this week and my fears of his desired occupation. I thought about the little kid who started to cry in my class yesterday when the bigger kids picked on him. I looked him in the eye and told him not to cry. Whatever he did, not to let them see him cry. He held it in and when the others realized they hadn't got to him they stopped and actually praised him for his effort. I thought about all these wonderful things and then came back to the horrors of the day.
The horrors I speak of aren't the bombing. Bombings happen every day all over the world and we shrug our shoulders. I'm not talking about the deaths. People die in horrific ways all the time and we almost see it as our nightly entertainment. The horrors I speak of are the reactions to this tragedy. The same way 9/11 changed us all (for about two weeks), this event changed us all. It showed, we've digressed in our ability to see anything without bias; without hate. It showed me that those who claim to be open and understanding to others, shut that down in times of despair. Times of stress, pressure and despair show one's true colors and many people showed their deep dark hues, while trying to mask them in the red, white and blue.
Roughly two hours later, the grey taxi pulled up and I entered. "Hey, what's up?" I said. "Did you hear about the bombing at the marathon?" The driver said. I told him I had not and then listened intently as the commentator discussed the carnage in Boston. I left the cab and stopped off to visit a friend who was working at a bar. With no intentions of staying for a drink, I found myself fixated on the television. The numbers were vague, but they estimated 23 people had been hurt and two were deceased. I left shortly after, walking slowly down the street thinking about those poor unexpecting people. I then got home and, as I frequently do, I went online. The speculation, negativity and prejudice was flying everywhere. It sickened me. I then left my home and went out and spoke more about this. Cooler heads seemed to surround me, which gave me comfort.
When I got home around 12:30 at night, I laid in bed and I thought about this week and the future. I thought about seeing pictures of my friend's wedding. I thought about how there was no reaction of anything but happiness when I saw her and her beautiful wife. I thought about this weekend, when I commented on a couple I frequently see and how amazing it is that every time I see them, they are as silly and giddy to be together as they first met. She happens to be black and he happens to be white. Their happiness is what stands out. I thought about my inability to share in my brother's graduation from basic training this week and my fears of his desired occupation. I thought about the little kid who started to cry in my class yesterday when the bigger kids picked on him. I looked him in the eye and told him not to cry. Whatever he did, not to let them see him cry. He held it in and when the others realized they hadn't got to him they stopped and actually praised him for his effort. I thought about all these wonderful things and then came back to the horrors of the day.
The horrors I speak of aren't the bombing. Bombings happen every day all over the world and we shrug our shoulders. I'm not talking about the deaths. People die in horrific ways all the time and we almost see it as our nightly entertainment. The horrors I speak of are the reactions to this tragedy. The same way 9/11 changed us all (for about two weeks), this event changed us all. It showed, we've digressed in our ability to see anything without bias; without hate. It showed me that those who claim to be open and understanding to others, shut that down in times of despair. Times of stress, pressure and despair show one's true colors and many people showed their deep dark hues, while trying to mask them in the red, white and blue.
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