Today is the first day since the Boston Marathon that I feel stable enough to really be on facebook. The initial impact of the bombings was blunted for me as I was sitting at home with a fever from Saturday though Wednesday. I was still regaining my strength when the freshly employed MIT policeman, in IT nerd who wanted to be a cop, a young man who had found his dream job as a cop at a world famous nerd college, was slain. The wife immediately suggested that there was a connection with the Boston Marathon bombings. Thus began 24 hours of tense watchfulness.
Those 24 hours where we were all told to stay in our homes to help the police in their door-to-door manhunt were a HUGE strain. I feel great compassion for Dzokhar. From all the descriptions of his friends, family and even acquaintances, there was a terrible force exerted upon his mind to twist it to this act of cruel violence.
I was in fear that my two friends, Scott Hart and
Trang, who live about 3 blocks away from where Dzokhar's brother was shot down, would be caught in the crossfire of a shootout. Instead, during a moment of pause for the SWAT team members searching their neighborhood, one of them returned with a co-worker to show him the awesome robot collection mounted on their wall. During a long, methodical, tense search there was time for joy to be shared.
My contribution to the search was that of most of my neighbors. I watched the progress on TV, seeing the businesses I ride past on the bus on my daily commute, the cemetery at the corner where I turn to drive up the hill when returning from Best Buy at the Watertown Mall where we plan to buy our next phones real soon, Watertown mall across from Arsenal Mall where we used to go for Old Navy clothes and Home Depot, Both malls now filled with thousands of public safety officers and their cars, watching on TV the tense door-to-door searches near Strip T's restaurant where I keep meaning to eat (for over 4 years), watching photos and comments on facebook from other friends within the 1-2 mile radius.
After a very tense night when the doors were locked (including the basement door) and I slept for 4 hours, the first warm day of spring arrived. The day in which we would usually throw open the back door and windows to welcome the spring air into our flat was spent in lockdown. I wanted to take the family away from the drama and the tension, to hop into the jeep and head for the woods, to cleanse ourselves in the arms of nature. But we stayed at home with the doors locked trying not to panic.
When the wind blew down the garbage can of our neighbors from France, we had to investigate. When the squirrels or wind rattled the porch screens, we had to peer through a window to see if a dangerous killer had arrived. Every sound was a potential threat. The garbage cans were uncollected. The street parking was almost empty (usually full for blocks by 7am on a Friday.) When 2 men in their 20s walked on the sidewalk, we speculated they were doing an undercover sweep. When cars passed on the street, we observed the patterns of unmarked cars followed by local police or a Belmont cruiser leading a train of 3-8 civilian cars in a convoy. When emergency vehicles sped by at high speed we speculated.
Along with the seesaw tensions of remaining vigilant to potential danger there were the seesaw emotions of the news reports on TV. Both of us love CSI and detective dramas, so we tried to smother our emotions in the technical details of the search and the evolving stories, but I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be away from the danger, but I also wanted to trust Governor Patrick, Mayor Menino, and others that the best thing to do was follow instructions and stay inside. I did sit on the porch and watch the bird feeder for an hour, and take small breaks from the TV, but as responsible parents, we felt the need to keep ourselves informed. We were a mile from the last known location of the object of the most formidable manhunt on Massachusetts history.
Last night, with Dzokhar captured, we were able to step outside and breathe the fresh air. We were able experience the constitutional promise of the pursuit of happiness. While typing this, I experienced the joyful sound of the garbage truck as the neighborhood returned to normal.
I feel selfish for ignoring the flooding that affects my friends in Illinois, Indiana and other places. I feel selfish for ignoring the tragedy of the explosive fire in West, Texas. I feel blessed that today we can go to the woods or Mt. Auburn cemetery and spend time with the robins and the trees.