Monday, April 15, 2013

An Open Letter to Some Bomber(s)

Dear Bomber(s):

First, let me say I think you think you are pretty tricky.

I bet you are at home watching all this news coverage about Boston.  Probably eating some crappy Ben and Jerry's Salted Pretzel Ice Cream (the worst ice cream we could think of here in Andersonville), with your feet up and wearing your sweats.

Sweats you probably picked up at the local Wal-Mart.

Here in America.

AND to add insult to injury, you are probably smiling.

I could care less if you are from the US, from the Middle East, South America or Canada (which I have to agree those Canadians are just too damn nice to blow us up).

I could care less what your problem is.  Wait, I take it back.  For someone to blow up someone else, you have to have more than one problem.  And I guess, looking deep inside my humanitarian heart, I actually do care.

Which makes me mad.  Dang it, I do care what your problems are.

You see, that is what makes me different than you.
While it is true that I, too, am at home tonight watching the Boston stuff on the news, I am not eating Ben and Jerry's.  I am not wearing sweats (long undies and my bright pink Boy Scout shirt) and just finished two pieces of Melba toast.

And I am not smiling.

If you were sitting here with me, I would definitely offer you something to drink or some Melba toast.  Because that is what decent folks do....

consider others.

Not blow them up.

After your snack at my painted teal-colored table, you know what would happen next.  I would verbally have to have a "come to Jesus" talk (as my mother calls it) with you.

And I wouldn't be very Jesus-y about it.

It would involve some swear words (you have to remember I am convert to Mormonism so some of my heathen ways have stuck with me).  I might even feel like punching you in the head.   But I wouldn't.

Because that is what decent folks don't do (unless you are Darrell K from high school and you just ripped off the new refrigerated handle off my mother's new fridge....which of course earns you a punch in the face....but I digress...).
Keeping it real, it just plain makes me cranky that you think you have the right to be a jerk.

When, in actuality, you do have the right.  Here in the good old USA.  And my fellow Americans gave you that right.  Whether you are American or not.

I have heard hours of commentary about that folks that were killed.

I have heard about the victims.

I have heard about the runners who did not get to meet their running goals.  Who have trained for months or years to run this race.  To finish the race.  To cross that finish line.

Since you are watching this at home, you have heard it too.

People who have been robbed of their goals.  Dreams.

Who you haven't heard about are the folks like me.
I am not a runner.  The last time I ran was on January 26th, 2002.  It was a memorable day for me, so that is why I remember it.  So this it isn't about the running.

For me, I identify with those runners who did not make their goals.  Who have worked for years to make it to the finish line. And who may never get there.

My race is humanity.  And today, it makes me wonder if we will ever get "there."

What you did today, you did a pretty damn good job tearing it up.

I don't mean our physical injuries.  I mean our hearts.

Humanitarians are driven by heart.  Passion.

And hope.

So, when jerks like you come along and disrupt our peace, we reel.  We cry.  We get angry. We feel hopeless....but only for a moment.

And then we get even.

I don't mean physically.  Or militarily (sure that happens, but I don't make those calls).

I mean humanly.

We run 26.2 miles and run directly to the hospital to donate blood.  We offer our tiny city apartments for sleeping.  We give coffee.  We share blankets.  We pray.  We post on Facebook.  We stay connected with each other.  We climb over and tear down crowd barriers, running towards the bombs. We turn in helpful tips.  We look beyond our ourselves and our hurts to help the people beside us.  We get it done in the
moments we ache the most.

Bomber guy, you have only given us a temporary set back.  You have failed in your doing bad.

I feel sorry for you and your "sorry ass" (as my father says). Your Ben and Jerry's ice-cream-eating, sweat- wearing ass.

You cannot win.  I will not let you.

I will get up tomorrow and do good.  Because that is what decent people do.

Humanity will finish our race. And we will win.

So bite me.