“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it — always.”
AUBURN, Maine — All that anxiety and fear that slowly faded away after the attacks on the Twin Towers 13 years ago resurfaced as my family watched the aftermath of two bombs that exploded at the Boston Marathon finish line on Patriots Day.
I thought I had safely tucked away those memories of that awful day in September until I saw all those injured souls lying on the street.
And I thought this was going to be a good day.
I got the yard in shape for summer, my son had track practice and the sun was bright — just like that the frightful Tuesday morning when New York City was brought to its knees when the towers crumbled, killing nearly 3,000 people.
My wife learned about the bombings on the computer, and then our afternoon was spent watching the injured being rushed to hospitals and endless replays of the blast, which killed three people.
My son and I watched the horror and pandemonium that unfolded in Beantown on Monday afternoon. Turn back the clock 13 years ago, and my five year old and I were watching "Barney" when I decided to flip through the channels and suddenly witnessed the second plane rip through one of towers, killing Bates College All-American Peter Goodrich.
And now, three people have been murdered and dozens injured at an event that celebrates fitness and athleticism. It is a goodwill competition that features runners from around the globe.
The panic in Boston has spread across the nation as major cities have buttoned up and tightened their security, too. The bombings have put the White House on high alert, and the country is looking over its shoulder again.
Forget why or who did this, because when it comes to terrorism, there is no reasoning.
What happened in the Hub isn't on the same level of horror as 9-11, but the terrorists did what they set out to do — trigger fear and anxiety that makes us all feel vulnerable and helpless.
Watching Boston instantly become a city of mass confusion certainly reminded me of New York City. This was just another assault on an American city rich in history. Bostonians, who live for Patriots Day, are now being told to remain indoors.
I grew up five miles from Fenway Park in Boston. I am a graduate of Northeastern University in Boston.
My wife and I have visited the Boston Commons and the pub know as Cheers — where everyone knows your name. I accompanied my father when he received a coaching award in Boston.
I watched my father pace the aisles as he griped about Carlton Fisk taking his sweet old time at the plate at Fenway Park in Boston. My father smiled when his son yelled from the top his lungs, "Cheevers, please don't leave the nets" during a Bruins game at the old Boston Garden.
I have watched Larry Bird mess up several NBA teams at the old Boston Garden. The Beatles played just two miles from my home at Suffolk Downs in East Boston.
In 1987, I witnessed Toshihiko Seko win the Boston Marathon.
Boston was my playground as a young man, and I still believe it is the greatest city in the world.
The Hub is know for its groundbreaking hospitals and renowned universities, but whoever committed this nefarious act should be taken out for a walk.
Somewhere in eternity, a humble Peter Goodrich, and his beloved late mother, Sally, are probably shaking their heads over another absurd act of violence.
But I am shaking my fists today.
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