I had just heard a bit of disheartening unrelated, news myself, so—for lack of a better phrase-- I wasn’t in the mood. When it was brought to my attention my heart sunk like someone told me my children had been injured. I’ve never felt like that about a news event before, don’t know why, but I did and I just wanted to avoid it. But in the 21st century that’s sometimes difficult, between the tweets, the status updates— even my ESPN app that was sending updates to me every few minutes. Two homemade bombs had been detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I channel surfed through the local, national and cable channels to see the many news, cell phone and home videos of the first bomb detonating. I was quickly reminded of a day in 2001, as I held on to my then nine month old for hours and watched what seemed like a constant loop of the planes hitting the twin towers. I immediately turned the coverage off, as I didn’t want relive that in seeing the second or third bomb detonating. I expected nothing but an endless loop of destruction and news anchors searching for the words, like children playing Marco Polo, over the same fifty three seconds of footage. Not to mention the soon to come, “Terror In Boston “, graphics and morose, accompanying theme music. As time passed, scrolling across the bottom of all networks were incremental increases in the injured and death toll. We would learn that 176 people had been injured and 3 people killed, one being an 8 year old boy awaiting his father’s finish in the marathon. The narrative for this incident was on lock. If anything I was happy to see my many social media friends on both sides of the aisle posting Pray For Boston and other supportive phrases for Beantown, whatever that can do for the human spirit. With this usual ‘falling into ranks as one’ unity, we’ve seen with past disasters in this country, I began to have that sense of despite all everything is going to be okay. Boston is resilient. Americans are resilient. Periodically hearing native Bostonians in those classic accents saying things like “Ain’t no ter-rah-wrists knaucking us down!”. I was briefly on some “Red, White and Blue, these colors don’t run” stuff. It wasn’t until I saw two photos. One was of a man, being pushed in a wheelchair from the bombing site by two marathon viewers and a first responder running with them. The man in the wheelchair was covered in ash, his feet had been completely blown off and his splintered bloody tibias and fibulas stuck out from his knees. The other was of bloodied people lying on the ground just after the explosion. One man was on the ground in a fetal position and he too had his foot completely blown off and his fibula was bloodied and completely free of skin and muscle as in the first photo. These images reminded me of so many seen after Middle East bombings on a random bus or in an open air market. You know the ones we ignore because there are no American casualties and go on with our First World problems, like ‘what Olivia Pope did on Scandal’, ‘the new changes to Facebook’ or the latest Kimye sighting. This chicken shit act, be it foreign or domestic, was not the Twin Towers or OKC and I’m not lessening those acts but it happened in a very random area like a bazaar or a bus. As some have said, ‘you can’t totally police 26 square miles’, just like you can’t police, do a bomb sweep and background check on every random bus, cafe or open air bazaar like in the Middle East. I didn’t know why this act of cowardice had struck me so initially but now I knew. And while I can’t find the probably the best words, I feel the playing field has been leveled or lowered. Either way the Terror in Boston now feels just like the Terror in Tehran. As much Dennis Rodman’s new friend, Kim Jong threatens us with Armageddon like weapons, I wasn’t concerned. As much as I hear the ghetto bird flying around my neighborhood and have to lock my yard as a precautionary measure, I wasn’t concerned. But these photos, that I had seen so many times in my life, in some form or fashion, were displaying global style random violence here in the USA. As many times I’ve heard the phrase “our lives have changed forever’, I didn’t truly buy into it. But on this solemn day in Boston I did. And now I’m concerned.
Now Follow Me! Follow Me to freedom
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
FIRST WORLD MEET THIRD WORLD
I had just heard a bit of disheartening unrelated, news myself, so—for lack of a better phrase-- I wasn’t in the mood. When it was brought to my attention my heart sunk like someone told me my children had been injured. I’ve never felt like that about a news event before, don’t know why, but I did and I just wanted to avoid it. But in the 21st century that’s sometimes difficult, between the tweets, the status updates— even my ESPN app that was sending updates to me every few minutes. Two homemade bombs had been detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I channel surfed through the local, national and cable channels to see the many news, cell phone and home videos of the first bomb detonating. I was quickly reminded of a day in 2001, as I held on to my then nine month old for hours and watched what seemed like a constant loop of the planes hitting the twin towers. I immediately turned the coverage off, as I didn’t want relive that in seeing the second or third bomb detonating. I expected nothing but an endless loop of destruction and news anchors searching for the words, like children playing Marco Polo, over the same fifty three seconds of footage. Not to mention the soon to come, “Terror In Boston “, graphics and morose, accompanying theme music. As time passed, scrolling across the bottom of all networks were incremental increases in the injured and death toll. We would learn that 176 people had been injured and 3 people killed, one being an 8 year old boy awaiting his father’s finish in the marathon. The narrative for this incident was on lock. If anything I was happy to see my many social media friends on both sides of the aisle posting Pray For Boston and other supportive phrases for Beantown, whatever that can do for the human spirit. With this usual ‘falling into ranks as one’ unity, we’ve seen with past disasters in this country, I began to have that sense of despite all everything is going to be okay. Boston is resilient. Americans are resilient. Periodically hearing native Bostonians in those classic accents saying things like “Ain’t no ter-rah-wrists knaucking us down!”. I was briefly on some “Red, White and Blue, these colors don’t run” stuff. It wasn’t until I saw two photos. One was of a man, being pushed in a wheelchair from the bombing site by two marathon viewers and a first responder running with them. The man in the wheelchair was covered in ash, his feet had been completely blown off and his splintered bloody tibias and fibulas stuck out from his knees. The other was of bloodied people lying on the ground just after the explosion. One man was on the ground in a fetal position and he too had his foot completely blown off and his fibula was bloodied and completely free of skin and muscle as in the first photo. These images reminded me of so many seen after Middle East bombings on a random bus or in an open air market. You know the ones we ignore because there are no American casualties and go on with our First World problems, like ‘what Olivia Pope did on Scandal’, ‘the new changes to Facebook’ or the latest Kimye sighting. This chicken shit act, be it foreign or domestic, was not the Twin Towers or OKC and I’m not lessening those acts but it happened in a very random area like a bazaar or a bus. As some have said, ‘you can’t totally police 26 square miles’, just like you can’t police, do a bomb sweep and background check on every random bus, cafe or open air bazaar like in the Middle East. I didn’t know why this act of cowardice had struck me so initially but now I knew. And while I can’t find the probably the best words, I feel the playing field has been leveled or lowered. Either way the Terror in Boston now feels just like the Terror in Tehran. As much Dennis Rodman’s new friend, Kim Jong threatens us with Armageddon like weapons, I wasn’t concerned. As much as I hear the ghetto bird flying around my neighborhood and have to lock my yard as a precautionary measure, I wasn’t concerned. But these photos, that I had seen so many times in my life, in some form or fashion, were displaying global style random violence here in the USA. As many times I’ve heard the phrase “our lives have changed forever’, I didn’t truly buy into it. But on this solemn day in Boston I did. And now I’m concerned.
Now Follow Me! Follow Me to freedom
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