Boston Is My Home

Boston is my home.

My family moved a lot when I was growing up, but I was shaped most by college and grad school in Boston.

Yesterday’s explosions at the Boston Marathon stunned me, like many. In between Twitterfeed refreshes, I struggled to make sense of the senseless. I spent the rest of the day in a haze. This was a personal attack, a violation—like having someone break into your home. In my head, I echoed the Onion headline published immediately after the Newtown massacre: “Fuck Everything, Nation Reports.”

It’s tempting to give up. The world is a terrible place, and terrible things happen, and then we die. And sadly, the promise of an afterlife doesn’t make the suffering of our currentlife less painful.

But I also echo one of Scully’s lines in the first X-Files movie: “If I quit now, they win.” (I’m a dork. I’m sorry. I base my life philosophies on quotes from fictional FBI agents.)

Patton Oswalt posted on the Facebook immediately after the Boston attack:

“But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We’d have eaten ourselves alive long ago. So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, ‘The good outnumber you, and we always will.’”

Christian Bale’s Batman said it best (in an inexplicable gravelly voice): “This city… just showed you that it’s full of people ready to believe in good.”

I still believe.

If I lived closer, I’d wander BU’s campus, a short distance from the marathon finish line, and go around hugging people.

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