Last Monday was Patriots’ Day in Massachusetts, a holiday I am somewhat embarrassed and somewhat proud to say I thought was a national holiday until I came to Kenyon. Apparently, most states do not reenact the Battles of Lexington and Concord on the third Monday in April. For me, though, Patriots’ Day is not really about American patriotism. It’s about celebrating my city, Boston, and spending time with my family and friends. And, in typical Boston fashion, it’s about sports. Patriots’ Day is, after all, also Marathon Monday.
I like to think that sports events are sacred, that it’s taboo to mar them in the way last Monday’s bombings marred the Boston Marathon. The Marathon is about passion and determination. It’s not political. It’s just a race, a grueling personal goal, and it matters a lot to participants, spectators and Boston. Two years ago, I watched in Brookline, cheering wildly as one of my friends ran by with her dad. Last year, when she ran again, I tracked her progress from Kenyon, cheering from afar. This year, I sat in Ascension frantically trying to get information about the bombings. Friends contacted me to make sure my family was okay, and I contacted others, particularly concerned about those with family members running. The instinct to check in was rational — if you’re from Boston, odds are you knew someone running or watching the Marathon.
I am surprised that the bombings have not been better acknowledged at Kenyon. To be honest, I’m amazed the College didn’t make a verbal or written recognition of the event. I understand that not everyone here has connections to Boston, but at the same time, I think it’s necessary to step outside the Kenyon bubble, if only briefly. It was stressful to watch from afar without a sense of solidarity to offer reassurance, especially since I’m sure I was not the only one at Kenyon upset.
Maybe it’s difficult for non-Bostonians to understand how Patriots’ Day adds to the bombings’ significance. It’s hard to explain Patriots’ Day, and, to be fair, I remember enjoying Concord’s Patriots’ Day parade as a kid but also not understanding why I was there. Patriots’ Day is part Fourth of July, part Labor Day, part “Happy Spring,” and part Boston Day. Given Boston’s sports culture, it’s natural that celebration of a civic holiday would include sports: the Marathon and baseball. Schools close and Boston shuts down along the Marathon route as thousands of people enjoy what is often one of the first nice days of spring. Families have barbecues, kids hand cups of water to runners and college students celebrate with a “marathon” of day drinking. As the marathon gets under way, the Red Sox take the field — always at Fenway Park. Of all Boston’s teams, I have a special affection for the Red Sox. For eight years, I went to school a block from Fenway, and my friends and I used to walk to games after sports practice. As an eight-year-old, I could recite the Red Sox’s lineup, pitching rotation, record, and batting averages. I’ve watched or listened to almost every game since then.
Perhaps Boston’s response to the bombings best explains Patriots’ Day. Boston demonstrated the resilient spirit I am so proud of in the aftermath of the bombings. The phrase “you’ve messed with the wrong city” quickly appeared, which to me expresses that the bombers didn’t understand Boston’s strength. Though I think it’s true they messed with the wrong city, I am glad a phrase less easily misinterpreted as a threat of retaliation became ubiquitous: “Boston Strong.” It seems that for every story about the carnage, another surfaces about those who immediately ran toward the blasts to help the injured or the runners who continued another two miles to Mass General Hospital to donate blood. I’m a sucker for inspirational sports stories, so I’ll also admit that I had tears in my eyes when I heard that the Yankees played “Sweet Caroline,” a song always played in the eighth inning at Fenway, at Yankee Stadium on Tuesday night.
I still consider Boston incredibly safe; though, I realize now I used to consider it invincible. The fatal shooting of an MIT police officer and the manhunt for the bombing suspect in Watertown that ensued created more dissonance between my perception of my city and news from home. It seemed every time I checked the Internet last week, there was more news of violence in my beautiful, usually peaceful city. I don’t entertain grand notions that if I were in Boston I could change anything, but the 12-hour driving distance seems very concrete right now. I also don’t expect all of Kenyon’s attention to be on Boston, but I ask you to ask yourself, “What if this had been my city?” Boston is my city, and I will always love that dirty water.
— Eleanore MacLean ’15