Three dead, as of now. The count will likely rise by morning, so horrific are the injuries. An eight year old boy. A Boston University student. I've been both of those, at times that feel much more recent than their reality.
Copley Square. Home of the onetime “Plywood Palace,” a.k.a. the John Hancock Tower, Boston’s tallest office building. When I was a student at BU, a part-time job was offered on our school’s job posting board for a “building watcher.” The then-fairly-new Hancock Tower had a few structural issues. The giant glass panels that formed its outer skin had a habit of blowing free from their frames, crashing to the ground – a dangerous situation, to say the least. During the reconstruction effort to fix this problem, giant plywood panels encased sections of the building, essentially to hold the glass in place. “Building Watchers” were hired and paid minimum wage to sit on benches in Copley Square and gaze upward at the building, watching for any signs of misaligned or wavering glass panels. I passed on this opportunity, and I have no regrets.
Until today, to my knowledge, glass panels in free-fall were the most dangerous things to happen in Copley Square. After college, I lived on Boylston Street, just a few blocks to the west. On more than one occasion, I staggered through Copley late at night, drunk as a skunk, making my way home. I’ve hung out there with friends at 2:00 am. I've had celebrity sightings. I've marveled at the ice sculptures. For many years, I worked in an office building just two blocks to the east. And yes, I’ve watched the marathon from that very spot, a number of times. I never felt threatened in any way.
Today was Patriot’s Day, a Massachusetts holiday. My wife, a teacher, has the week off. We’re on a vacation of sorts, spending a few days at our house on Cape Cod. When we heard the news today, we were reminded of Patriot’s Day, 2007. We were on a real vacation then, having taken our daughters to Washington, DC for school vacation week. We happened to be staying in a hotel across the river, in Virginia. The day we arrived was the day of the Virginia Tech shootings. As might have been expected, this was a major news story in Virginia. The details were inescapable, and horrifying; very much like coverage of today’s Boston Marathon bombings here in Massachusetts.
Tonight, together with our fellow citizens, we’re being asked to remain “highly vigilant.” Tomorrow, Boylston Street will remain closed for several blocks as the crime scene analysis continues. Riders on Boston’s mass transit system will be subjected to random backpack inspections. With a shudder, I’m recalling the times that followed 9/11/2001. At the office building in New Hampshire where I then worked, huge boulders were placed to block vehicular access to the part of the parking lot closest to the building. At airports, security measures went over-the-top nuts. In retrospect, even the most cautious among us would likely admit that we got a little silly; but it was all somewhat understandable. The fear was palpable.
I wonder what we’ll wake up to find tomorrow. Will the hard news somehow deteriorate? Will there be additional incidents, or devices found, or connections to terrorist organizations confirmed? Will all public trash barrels again be removed from city streets, as they were in the wake of 9/11?
I’m not being cavalier about this stuff. I freely admit to a twinge of trepidation at the thought of our drive home later this week, which will take us through the long “Big Dig” Tip O’Neill Tunnel, beneath the streets of Boston.
More than anything, today’s news has brought great sorrow; I feel for the families of the victims, the injured and the dead. The accident of timing alone separates us.
The real marathon is not a footrace. It’s an ongoing, lifelong slog. It’s the thing we once rather tritely called the “War on Terror.” It has a cadence. I imagine it will continue to ebb and flow, along with our fear and our vigilance; but it will not disappear, ever.
Yet those who are inclined to wax nostalgic for the “good old days” need only look a bit further back to realize that nothing here is new. Members of the Greatest Generation will recall the fear that gripped the world during World War Two. “Loose Lips Sink Ships.” The leading edge of the Boomers may remember the paranoid atmosphere of the Cold War. “Duck and Cover.” The Enemy has always been, and will always be Out There. This marathon requires strength and endurance. Those who came before us had it. I’m betting we will, too.
