I Heart That Dirty Water...

The Standells.

I remember my father playing me "Dirty Water" (on vinyl) on a Sunday morning and being entranced by the song.  Enthralled by the picture painted of the city.

That was the day my love affair with the city of Boston started.

I was probably no older than 10, and had never been to Boston...but I knew then that it felt like "home."

I have always been a fan of the Red Sox; I was a catcher in Little League and my hero was Carlton Fisk.  I had a Carl Yastrzemski "signature" bat.  A second cousin of mine made three or four starts at first base for the Sox before disappearing into baseball obscurity.  All of this was awkward growing up in upstate NY.

I am a saxophone player and the Boston ska scene blew my Doc Martin's off!  Seeing the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Chucklehead are still some of my favorite memories of club shows...

As a chef, some of the world's best chefs and most innovative restaurants worth emulating are in the greater Boston area.

As an adult, I fell in love in Boston.  I courted my wife in Boston; one of my favourite instances occurred outside the Copley Square T station.

The majority of my life's happiest moments are all entwined with Boston.

I have made it a point to take Marathon Monday/Patriots' Day off since moving to the area 14 years ago so that I could wake up with the Sox!  This year was no different...

Until it was different.  This year at 3:00 PM my heart was broken by the bombings at the finish line of the marathon.  Dumbfounded.  Full of rage.  With a hole in my heart...emptiness.  But these feelings were quickly replaced by compassion and empathy for the victims, the injured, and their families.  Gratitude and awe for the first responders and volunteers who ran toward the scene and not away from it, as I silently wondered, "could I do that?"

I cried in the car on my way to work listening to Carlos Arredondo, the Cowboy seen in photos, as he described saving Jeff Bauman's life by holding the femoral artery of Bauman's severed leg to keep him from losing more blood; this was after Carlos described the loss of his oldest son in Afghanistan, his youngest son to suicide, and his own attempt at suicide.

I cried again when I heard the crowd at Bruins first home game after Monday sing the Star Spangled Banner; the thought of it is causing tears to well up even now.  At the end of the same game the Buffalo Sabres held their sticks in the air to salute, and show their support of the people of Boston.  (And yes, I got chills every time I saw a different ball park with the Boston "B" on it, or heard of stadiums playing "Sweet Caroline," or when Progressive Field in Cleveland played Dirty Water to honor the Red Sox victory on Tuesday night...)

I have been blown away by the amount of class that has been shown this week by "rivals" and areas that look upon Beantown with contempt.

And this is what makes me happy to call the Boston area my Home.  The acts of selflessness, heroism, and solidarity in the wake of the events on Monday provide hope for the recovery of all of the hearts broken last Monday.