For Boston

There's not much to be said, but here I am anyway.

I am a Bostonian, born and bred, even though I have never lived within the limits of the city. Being a Bostonian is more a weirdly puritanical mindset than it is an indication of where you were born (it may have something to do with being able to speak and understand the accent, however). I have proudly called myself a Bostonian (and occasionally a Masshole) wherever I have traveled (often while wearing my Red Sox hat proudly). And I am proud to be a Bostonian today.

Plenty of other writers have said it more eloquently than I ever could, but Boston is a grand city with amazing history and tough-as-nails people, and this won't keep us down.

I am sad that someone chose one of our most sacred holidays, Patriots Day, to cause harm. I am sad that this day, which holds so many dear memories, will be marred. I am sad that my niece, whom we have always kidded about being a Tax Day baby, will hear about this day on her birthday for the forseeable future. I am, of course, sad for the loss of life and the injuries sustained by so many.

But mostly I'm just mad. You don't mess with Boston.

The title of this post refers to the Boston College fight song. I'd like to think of it more as this city's fight song right about now. Here's the Dropkick Murphys version.