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Archive for April, 2013

Now that it’s happened again, I remember how it felt the last time.  I remember feeling  like the nerves on my skin were burned, jangly, hyper-sensitive.  I remember how I startled easily.  I recall looking out the window more often, gazing up at the sky…although back then, I also remember the eery quiet that came from no planes flying overhead.  I remember hoping there would be answers soon, cranking out as much work to update the UUA website as I could manage before I collapsed in exhaustion for a few hours.  And I remember how calm it all felt here in my town, thirteen miles away from downtown Boston.

That was in the minutes in hours and days that stretched on, following the September 11, 2001, attacks on our country, some of which originated in Boston.  Now, of course, is the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombing that occurred on Monday afternoon.  And while the circumstances are different, and the loss of life much less, it still feels like a punch to the gut of every person who calls Boston their home.

It was Boston Globe columnist Kevin Cullen who, interviewed the other day on the television news, said, “Bostonians care about only three things:  sports, politics, and revenge.” And, he continued, in this case, revenge is about carrying on our lives, and not letting whoever perpetrated these acts change what we do and who we are. In a demonstration of solidarity, we saw the reviled New York Yankees raising a banner that had both teams’ names on it, and playing our beloved baseball anthem, “Sweet Caroline,” after the seventh inning at Yankee Stadium.  Way to go, Evil Empire.  Maybe we’re not so far away from each other, after all.

And in that spirit, last night the Boston Bruins held the first major sports game since the attacks (two other Celtics games were cancelled) and the entire Boston Garden joined in singing the National Anthem.

Bostonians — and I count myself as one now, having lived here for well over twenty years — are in general scrappy, intrepid, and prone to keeping on, no matter what.  In these days following the attacks on the Marathon, story after story has come to light, of strangers opening their homes to stranded runners and tourists, of people who ran toward the blast, not away, to help those whose legs had been torn off or who lay on the ground, bleeding, of people who are donating to relief funds set up by area banks to help those whose injuries are so severe they will require extensive long term care.

Today, the President of the United States will come together with interfaith leaders at a worship service to remember those who died, those who were injured, those who came to aid the fallen.  Meanwhile, the investigation into the crime goes on, painstakingly, relentlessly.  I have every confidence that the answers will be found, that the perpetrators will be brought to justice.  And that our city will recover.  Again.

Way to go, Boston.  In so many ways, by acts mundane and huge, our people show what they’re made of.  And each time the Red Sox win (and Saints preserve us, they seem to be on a roll again) and our other baseball anthem, “Dirty Water,” pumps out of the Fenway Park sound system, I’m proud this is the place I call home.

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Very late on Sunday night, April 14, I was sitting in Lexington’s Hancock-Clarke House next to the brick fireplace, the room lit only by two eighteenth-century candle lanterns.  The historic house becomes a stage set on Patriot’s Day Eve, as the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere into Lexington is re-enacted, much to the delight of local Boy Scout and church youth group members, townspeople, and visitors who’ve come here from all over the world to see what Patriot’s Day is all about.

My husband, Ben, plays John Hancock in the re-enactment, and I am his dresser, helping him pull off his outer garments and hat, re-adjust his body microphone, and present himself as though awakened from restless sleep by the arrival of Paul Revere and William Dawes at the home of Rev. Jonas Clarke.  The play is a charming event, sponsored by the Lexington Historical Society, and after the last scene of the play is staged on Lexington’s Battle Green (in which Rev. Clarke inspires the farmers of the town to stand up to the Redcoats, and Hancock and his pal, Sam Adams, flee Lexington for the neighboring town of Woburn), the crowds disperse…at least until the 5 AM Battle of Lexington re-enactment.

As Ben and I got in our car to drive home, just after midnight, we remarked on the cold, clear night with the crescent moon shining down.  We drove toward the Green and saw the new American flag, much bigger than the last, waving over the Green, lit by spotlights.  We looked back at our church, First Parish in Lexington, gathered in 1691, with its steeple illuminated — a reassuring beacon in the night.  And I thought about how this holiday was so special for New England…how I wished more people would celebrate Patriot’s Day here in our town, and not just think of the next day as “Marathon Monday.”

We haven’t ever been Marathon people, although I’m proud of Boston’s history with this oldest of marathon races.  Ben and I usually watch the end of the race, remark on how well the Kenyan runners seem to do, follow a few of the heart-warming stories of the race (including this year’s dedication of the race to the victims of the shootings in Newtown, CT) and otherwise, observe the day with Colonial activities in Lexington, Lincoln, and Concord.  And we like it that way.

Too often, there are also pro-gun rallies, or other events in our town, that are designed to remind people of perceived threats to second amendment rights.  I have written previously about these and don’t need to revisit those thoughts now.  This year, however, the individuals or organization that meant Boston harm had something else in mind, as two bombs were detonated along the finish of the marathon route.  The shock of this horror happening in our city took me back to the bombing of the Murrah building in Oklahoma City, which occurred on April 19th…and to other threats made against our country on other April mornings.

I imagine that the perpetrators of such acts fashion themselves to be patriots of a sort…people who are taking a stand for their point of view against the organized influences of government and society that they feel threaten them.  I imagine that they have decided to cause such chaos and tragedy because they want to be heard.  I imagine that they feel that violence, and a large act of it, is the only way for them to gain attention.  And I imagine that they want to frighten the rest of us, so that we will know that they are strong.

These are patriot games of a most unpatriotic and cowardly sort.  and I (just an ordinary citizen) feel confident in saying, on behalf of all living near the epicenter of these acts — designed to bring us to our knees — that acts of terror will not have the desired effect.  As one woman, interviewed on the street in Boston today, said, “We are Bostonians.  We will not be intimidated.  We get up, we get our coffee, we allow extra time to go to work, and we carry on…because we will not be frightened by these acts.  We are Bostonians, and this is what we do.”

The people of Great Britain must have had it right when the slogan, “Keep calm and carry on,” was coined in 1939, at the start of the second world war.  These games of intimidation and mayhem will not succeed, and life in and around the Hub of the Universe, where the struggle for liberty began so many years ago, will go on – even stronger, blessed by the people who make this part of the world my home.

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We’re midway into April, the month when my husband and I live on verge of going meschugah because there is just too much to do, every single moment of every single day.  And this year is no different.  It’s Patriot’s Day weekend here in Lexington, the town where the first shot of the American Revolution was fired on our historic Green, which stands about a mile and half from our house.  The town’s draped in bunting and there are tons of visitors in the area — you can tell because they wander out into the middle of the road and there are tour buses everywhere.  Down the street, I heard the muskets going off an hour ago as the Battle Road re-enactments took place, showing folks what the running battle that took place from Concord to Lexington to Arlington was like, following the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord.

Tomorrow my catering company will be serving a Colonial Lunch to all who want to sample the real deal — New England Fish Chowder, baked beans, pot pie, and more — and the afternoon parade will come marching down Massachusetts Avenue, leading to more activities and a re-enactment of Paul Revere’s Ride at  midnight on Sunday and The Battle of Lexington early on Monday.  And this year, even more:  Lexington celebrates its 300th birthday – so the events have even more hoopla attached to them.

This historic stuff all seems charming — it’s really a slice of small town New England life at its’ nicest — but along with it, we’re looking forward this spring to demonstrations in support of second amendment rights. organized by gun enthusiasts who refuse to acknowledge that some changes in the nation’s gun laws might be in order to prevent the next school tragedy or mass shooting.  While the parents of some of the tiny victims of the Newtown, CT massacre continue to bear witness in the nation’s capital to the need for debate and a vote on gun laws that might protect the innocent, folks will be coming to Lexington next Friday to ‘stand up and be counted.’  The local clergy association has organized a peaceful public witness event as one response, and many folks in town are left shaking their heads, wondering why, once again, the debate over the right to bear arms has landed on our town Green.

Year after year, as Middlesex County, Massachusetts, celebrates the beginnings of the Revolution, people also show up to raise the flag of fear: if we give any ground on the gun debate, the government will take over our lives and all our freedoms — those that the Patriots fought and died for — will be lost.  But I doubt that Jonas Clarke and the Sons of Liberty imagined ammo clips for their muskets and the need for assault weapons in their homes.  While we celebrate the best of America during events like this weekend’s in Lexington, some people will be looking over their shoulders, to see what freedoms the government is going to take away next.

But who is the government?  Are we part of it?  What role do we all play in determining our fate, and why would we believe that assault weapons are the way to protect our liberties?  Where does “the pursuit of happiness” come into the mix (as articulated in The Declaration of Independence, or, for that matter, the embrace of life itself as one of the freedoms we defend relentlessly?

This weekend in our little town, we celebrate the lives and sacrifices of the patriots who were inspired to fight for their independence from Great Britain, some at great personal cost.  Their struggle is worth remembering, particularly since it lifts up those who held on to the values that the founders had for America…a country affirming not only freedom, but safe harbor and protection for its citizens — even its most vulnerable.

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