It was not hard to think of a topic for Unorganized Territory this week. Like so many Americans, I am still in shock over the bomb blasts at the finish line of the world renowned Boston Marathon.
This horrific day will live in our collective memory, like the assassination of President John F. Kennedy or the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger or the 9/11 terror attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I can clearly remember just where I was and what I was doing when the announcements were made for those national tragedies. Years from now, I likely will clearly remember that I was sitting at my desk, going through e-mails when my co-worker and friend Brian Larsen shared the news that the finish line of the marathon had been bombed.
Of course we all hoped that it was a minor event—just some fireworks gone awry perhaps. But no, checking the news it was clear that this was a horrendous accident, hurting many, many people.
We hoped that it was an accident—a gas leak, perhaps. But again, watching the explosion over and over again, from various angles from myriad cameras on the street, it was clear that it was not an accident, but a carefully placed weapon, intended to hurt as many people as possible.
We all continue to watch the news, the seemingly never-ending replay of the explosion, the cloud of dust, runners falling, road barriers crumbling— and for me, the most heartbreaking image of all is that of four bright yellow balloons floating up through the smoke, away from the carnage, drifting into the bright spring sky.
We keep watching even though it breaks our hearts to learn about the people who have died— the 29-year-old restaurant manager, Krystle Campbell, whose devastated parents remember her as the “best daughter anyone could ever ask for.” Lu Lingzi, from China, a student at Boston University who was working to earn her graduate degree in mathematics and statistics. Who, her mathematics professor told the Washington Post, was “a vivacious chatterbox.”
And perhaps most painfully, we hear about 8-year-old Martin Richard, who loved baseball and soccer. Who will forever be remembered as a smiling, brown-eyed boy holding a poster for a school antiviolence project—a poster asking for peace.
Martin lost his life on what should have been a day of celebration, a happy day spent with his parents and brother and sister. Instead the Richard family has been shattered by this cruel attack, losing Martin and also having to deal with severe injuries to his mother and sister.
More heart wrenching stories will be told, I’m sure. The number of victims taken to Boston hospitals varies depending on the news source, but it is clear that there are still many people in critical condition. There are many people who lost limbs and who will have a difficult recovery ahead of them. There are runners who may never run again.
But as always in a tragedy, amazingly, thankfully, there are shining examples of the goodness of people. The evil that built and placed and detonated those bombs cannot overcome the heroic human response that followed. In addition to the news of injury and death, there are reports of people who helped each other, providing crucial first aid and comforting the wounded. There were hundreds of emergency responders who rushed to the scene, without concern for their own safety in the face of other explosions to do what they needed to do. There were doctors and nurses who readily faced perhaps the greatest medical emergency they had ever seen. And there were runners, who didn’t stop at the debris-strewn finish line, but kept running to the closest hospital, to donate blood.
Seeing those reports made me feel a little bit better about the future of the human race. And, it reminded me of some wise words I have heard attributed to the late Fred Rogers, of PBS’s Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood fame. His words can still be found on the PBS website in a section titled Helping Children Deal with Tragic Events in the News. Sadly, the text explains that Mr. Rogers’ timeless advice was written in response to the assassination of Robert Kennedy.
I wish that we didn’t live in a world where Mr. Rogers’ advice was still needed. Unfortunately, this week, after the tragedy in Boston, we all need it— adults and children alike.
According to PBS, Fred Rogers often told the story of when he was a boy and saw scary things on the news: “My mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers—so many caring people in this world.”
Thank you to those helpers, those caring people. And thank you Mr. Rogers. No more hurting people. Peace.
Martin Richard
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