Boston Strong
I am not a Bostonian by birth. But I have lived in this old New England city for 15 years and it is certainly my home.
It is colonial and cosmopolitan, elegant and gritty, historic and youthful, a place that teems with the energy of young people as Boston’s colleges and universities attract thousands of students from around the world. It’s a place where tradition and innovation comfortably coexist, where nor’easters and Red Sox taunt and test us. It is a city with a deep reservoir of character, resilience and loyalty. Boston is a city that endures.
My adopted hometown was deeply shaken last week. But Boston did what Boston has always done: it faced adversity, regrouped quickly and did so with resolve. Amidst the chaos and carnage on Monday as police, first responders and bystanders sprang into selfless action; as an eerie symphony of sirens echoed through my South End neighborhood throughout that sad afternoon and evening; as police helicopters hovered overhead while the President paid his respects on Thursday; as we hunkered down in our homes and schools throughout Friday’s paralyzing manhunt; and as celebrations erupted when the search was over, Bostonians rallied around each other as we mourned our dead and wounded. “Boston Strong” became our spontaneous motto and mantra. Indeed.
At Tufts, we breathed a deep sigh of relief as the 140 members of our marathon team, and its coaches and cadre of volunteers, emerged unharmed from the route. And then we prayed as four Jumbos—spectators in the wrong place at that awful moment on Boylston Street—were treated for their injuries. Three sustained shrapnel wounds; one remains hospitalized a week after the bombing. We mourn with our colleagues and friends at MIT for the loss of their campus police officer and with our neighbors in Medford as they bury one of Monday’s victims.
We staggered on Friday morning as we learned of the fast-breaking overnight events in nearby Cambridge and Watertown. The manhunt and resulting lockdown shuttered the university and upended our open house for accepted members of the Class of 2017. Nearly 800 people were expected on campus; many had traveled from places as far-flung as Warsaw and Houston, Utah, Oregon and California. The day-long celebration of Tufts took a sober turn as high school seniors (some of whom had traveled alone) and their parents were suddenly face-to-face with the reality of current events.
My colleagues had anticipated many contingencies as we planned our open house but a terrorist on the run in a neighboring town was not one of them. As the campus shut down, we gathered our visitors (those who were already en route and those who had stayed overnight in the dorms) into Cousens Gymnasium. We assessed our risk and we made impromptu plans to send them safely home as soon as we could.
While sheltered in the gym, our visitors saw Tufts in action as President Monaco, the admissions staff and its student volunteers, the athletic department staff and many others responded to the situation. The community remained level-headed and calm as we monitored the unfolding events yet determined to preserve some element of the program. I think of Tufts as an optimistic place and that was on display. Since several hundred people were in the gym, the admissions staff reimagined the morning on the fly, improvising as best as we could so that some measure of Tufts could be shared in the harried moment.
People were gracious, calm and focused, and I was struck by the palpable spirit of shared citizenship that emerged as we navigated the frightening experience together. And when we learned that nearly two dozen pre-frosh were stranded on campus without a parent to guide them home or the transportation to get there on their own, parents of their fellow accepted Jumbos stepped forward and offered rides to points outside the lockdown zone and Tufts students volunteered their dorm rooms for students who needed a place to stay for a second night. Small gestures of kindness resonated in big ways.
As my priest noted yesterday at Mass, goodness rises to the fore when we face dark moments. I saw that on Friday. I saw that all week.