CJ Kaplan reflects on the luck of living in Boston, despite, or maybe because, of the tragedy at the Boston Marathon.
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With the exception of the four years I spent at college in upstate New York, I have lived my entire life within 30 minutes of Boston.
I’ve sat in the bleachers at Fenway Park.
I’ve sat in the last row of the balcony of the old Boston Garden.
I’ve sat on the cold, steel benches of Sullivan Stadium in December.
Who is luckier than me?
I’ve viewed the world from the top of the Hancock Tower.
I have walked the planks of Old Ironsides.
I’ve been to the MFA, the ICA and the BSO.
Who is luckier than me?
I’ve had pizza at Regina’s, chowder at Legal’s and prime rib at Durgin Park.
I’ve had cocktails at the Four Seasons, scorpion bowls at The Hong Kong and pitchers at The Pour House.
I’ve had egg sandwiches at the South Street Diner at 3:30am.
Who is luckier than me?
I’ve ridden the Green Line, Red Line, Orange Line, Blue Line and even the silver line.
I’ve ridden a swan boat and a duck boat.
I’ve ridden a bike along the Esplanade in May.
Who is luckier than me?
Like Tom Waits, I fell in love with a Jersey Girl.
Unlike Tom, I convinced her to move to Boston with me.
After a year, she never wanted to go back.
Who is luckier than me?
I’ve seen Aerosmith, the Cars and the J. Geils Band.
I’ve hung out at the Paradise, the Ratt and Harper’s Ferry.
I’ve listened to WBCN, WCOZ and WFNX.
Who is luckier than me?
I’ve saved a parking spot with a lounge chair.
I’ve shoveled snow in gym shorts.
I’ve gone out for ice cream when the thermometer read -10º.
Who is luckier than me?
In the summer, the ocean is my backyard.
In the winter, the pond is my skating rink.
In the fall, the leaves catch fire just for my pleasure.
In the spring, the world watches my city run.
Who is luckier than me?
When I was small, my brother and I would go to my grandmother’s house very early on Patriot’s Day. She lived about a block off Commonwealth Avenue at the foot of Heartbreak Hill. After lunch, we’d walk down the street to cheer on the runners. We saw Bill Rogers and Joan Benoit speed by on their way to victory and even Johnny Kelley steadily grinding toward his 50th finish line at age 74.
There were people draped in the flags of other countries and people wearing funny costumes and people who seemed to be running purely on adrenalin and the energy of our cheers.
We’d watch and cheer and hold out cups of water, hopeful that a runner would take it from our adoring hands. Then, we’d get a popsicle from the ice cream truck and head back to my grandmother’s house, happy and satisfied.
There are some memories that time and circumstances can never destroy.
I’m from Boston, Massachusetts.
Who is luckier than me?
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photo by charliekwalker / flickr
CJ,
Do you remember Buffalo Head? His was always my favorite costume in the marathon. I never understood how he could run 26.2 miles in that thing.
Liam
Ha! I don’t remember Buffalo Head, Liam. But, I do remember the guy dressed like the lady opera singer complete with gold Viking horn hat. And, of course, the many guys running in ballerina tutus.
My dad ran the Marathon when i was a kid in the 50″s. I thought this race was the coolest thing in the world. Not only did the runners have awe inspiring dedication and stamina but so did the fans, the race volutneers and the City itself. On Monday they all showed that my love and awe in them is so very well placed. Thank you to a great City and to great people.