You grow up thinking that somebody loves something as much as you do. Others respect all the streets that you have walked, the places you have gone, the memories you have made by a mutual love for this place. No place says home to me unlike the city of Boston, a place I so rarely see since I came to Marist. Just because I am not there physically, does not mean it is ever far from my heart. To me, going into Boston is one of the most excited things. People have a love and a passion for a city that not only takes from them, but gives back to them as well. My roots to Boston are strong; my father’s parents grew up in Boston, and eventually married and had my father, an Everett native his entire life. My mother, was born and raised in Belmont, and after they got married, they spent the first few years of the marriage living just outside of Boston. Once they started having children (I am the third of four), they moved about an hour south to the suburbs.
Growing up in the suburbs was a different experience for me, I grew up wishing I could live in Boston, going to Celtics games in The Garden, walking down Newbury Street. Even now, at the age of 21 in a world of uncertainty, I know I want to live in Boston. My youth was frequent with visits to my grandparent’s house, driving through Boston, always past The Garden and under the Tobin Bridge. Family trips to the city were cherished, and when I was in elementary school, my father took me to my first Celtics game. When the Bruins won the Stanley Cup, I was in Boston at the crack of dawn on the Parade Route with thousands and thousands of others who shared my love for this place. Boston is a city that sells itself, taking the heart of people who pass through it. Even those who are members of the intense rivalry between New York and Boston teams, often express their fondness of Boston.
We as humans have experienced tragedy. My experience with it; however, has been limited, until today. My oldest sister was there to take in the Boston Marathon, the joy of watching take part of something greater than themselves. My other sister works extremely close to where everything occurred, and before I knew the exact location of her office, I had been sitting in class realizing I had no idea what either of them were doing that day or where they were. Then, I began walking towards the post office on campus and checked my phone to see that my father had called to leave a voicemail. In a way, I feared what he had to say, knowing that my family has so many ties to Boston, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hear a phone call saying something happened to one of them. Fortunately, I am able to say that my family is fine, the only damage done, is the damage done to the rest of the country. Faith shaken again, spirits down but not necessarily out.
Hearing the reports that the runners who participated in the Boston Marathon kept running to Mass General Hospital to give blood released the sense of sickness I was having throughout my entire body. These people are the definition of selfless, and heroic, along with the men and women in uniform who responded from all over Boston. It is a symbol of what we all must do in a time in which Boston has almost been managed to knock down a peg. We must all keep running. (Or walking, whichever you prefer on a daily basis). I have always held up my head when saying I am from Massachusetts, and that Boston is my city. You can laugh at how the funny accents, you can make fun of us for having rotary’s, or for saying the word wicked. But you cannot, nor will we let you, take away what it means to be from Boston.
We just hope that you’ll be standing alongside us, as we recapture that magic of Boston, and remember that an entire city of people out number the person who caused the events on April 15th.
One city, one love, one community.
Marist Class of 2014