Friday, April 19, 2013

It's More Than a Feeling

Today was the day after the terrorist incident in Boston. I regretted turning on the news this morning because it was a day off. It was hard to turn something off that was so important and impacting so many people. On the other hand, why am I watching play by play? This is not affecting me directly. Actually, there was a very slight chance that it just might affect us here in New York. There was concern it was part of a larger ring of conspirators. Perhaps they were on their way to New York at this moment. There is some fine line between just going on and enjoying your day and tuning in for the long haul that I often get caught between. Obviously the story couldn't be more compelling and certainly more interesting than anything I had going on that day. This was something that I have never seen before, nor may again (hopefully). At many points in the day you felt as though you were going to witness something spectacular on tv even though it may be horrible and sad. This was a young boy (in my mind). Not a grown adult who's lived and made clear choices (which he is). This was someone's younger brother and a kid that dances funny and probably spends time loafing and being silly. In between real action, my thoughts began forming scenarios. This kid is gonna be dead by the end of the day most likely. People are building up loads of hate right now and that is never a good thing. This is not going to help the profiling argument. People have been hurt very badly and a small boy has died. I pull out from that picture and I realize we've been hit again in America, something everyone has sort of been holding their breathe about since 9/11. It's gonna happen again, but when? And here it is, happened. Pull out from that and look at this boy that seems so normal, cute, almost a little hipster. How the hell could he be the face of terrorism? Has he even grown a beard yet? How could he feel that strongly about anything, let alone sacrificing his life for a cause. I find myself wanting to mother him and shake him, tell him to 'stop doing that!'. But it's not funny or cute or good in any way. It's a sad day. It's a bad, sad and ugly day. I go from being an idiot, pissed off that this is happening on my day off to being so grateful that more people weren't hurt. So humbled by all these brave policemen and people that choose to get involved and protect us. They don't know what lies ahead this day but they're moving forward with procedures and maneuvers. Will they go home to their wives tonight? Is it their day off tomorrow? And on a lighter note, God bless 'em but Rosanna Scotto and Greg Kelly, may not be the best team to watch for serious event coverage. But even so, I liken it to being at my Uncle Junior's house say during a tornado. And for some reason I can't remember but this may have actually happened. On a rare chance I may have been dropped off at my Aunt and Uncle's house with my cousins that lived right up against the railroad tracks and right next to the Hassen Barrel Company on that tiny back road in the old neighborhood by St Andrew's. I remember feeling I couldn't trust my uncle to protect me when the storm started because he'd be that big drunk on hard liquor, crazy eyes and Frankenstein walk. But it was a fun enough place to be with all the other kids running around and Aunt Sylvia would most likely make some good grub before things start swirling around. No memory after that except that we watched the Alamo the movie and they all laughed because I asked who won.

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