Boston Memories

I had a hard time sitting down to write this post. I have no desire to trivialize the horror of what happened at the Boston Marathon, the terror that engulfed a great city, the subsequent assassination of an MIT policeman, and the shootout that ultimately led to the death of one of the bombing suspects and the capture of his younger brother. But I am drawn once again by the intersection of events in my life and that of our family with news of the day, so I’ve, reluctantly, pieced together some Beantown memories.

I’ve been to Boston many times, for work and to visit family. My first visit to Boston, to attend the deciding game of the 1975 World Series, predates the ritual singing of Sweet Caroline at Fenway Park. It was not sweet that night for Red Sox fans. They blew a lead to the Cincinnati Reds. The city had to wait another 19 years for its championship rings. 

Our family has walked down Boylston Street where the bombs went off several times. We’ve stayed at the Sheraton Hotel in the Prudential Center that backs up on Boylston. We’ve shopped in the Prudential Center mall. The June before Dan entered Tufts University, we bought him a Columbia Sportswear winter jacket. In truth, it was too big for him (too big for me, as well), but he wanted it and it was on sale. He gave it back to me several years later and I used it from time to time. Last year I gave it to one of Donny’s friends who needed a winter jacket while riding around as a bicycle messenger. 

I think it was during that same June visit that Ellie talked us into taking a horse drawn carriage ride around Copley Square. Her vision—all of our visions—of a carriage ride as a romantic excursion was forever destroyed that night. It’s hard to feel romantic when your olfactory sense is assaulted by the contents of the drop bag behind the horse. We couldn’t wait for the ride to finish.

Dan and Allison bought a house in Arlington seven years ago. One of the restaurants in town we ate in during our first visit was Jimmy’s Steer House on Massachusetts Avenue. She didn’t work there then, but Krystle Campbell, one of the three fatalities of the marathon day bombing, worked as a manager of Jimmy’s for the last several months. 

Dzhokhar A. Tsarnaev was captured in Watertown, in the yard of 67 Franklin Street, less than a mile from the Arsenal Mall. Fifteen years ago I spent time at the Arsenal Mall researching a cover story for my magazine. 

Mostly inconsequential links. But sufficiently strong, to me, to have made me identify a little stronger than most non-Bostonians with the utter senselessness of the last two weeks. I’ve left it to other journalists to be more profound about the meaning behind our latest bout with terror.

Homeland and Other Worries

So here's my problem with Showtime’s Homeland, now that Gilda and I are watching the DVD of the first season. The suspected Al Qaeda plot the CIA and FBI are investigating—a sniper attack against the president as he leaves or boards his Marine One helicopter at Reagan National Airport—is based on erroneous fact. Air Force One, the only plane the president flies in, does not use Reagan. It flies in and out of Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, nowhere near the Virginia house Abu Nasir's terrorist cell bought and planned to use in their assassination attempt because its roof has a direct view of the helicopter landing pad at Reagan. 

There are no doubt other points we could dissect but this one is troubling. You'd think the CIA and FBI would know the president doesn't use Reagan National Airport. Maybe the dilemma is cleared up in the last two episodes of season one which we hope to view this weekend. I hope so, because otherwise I really like this show and can’t wait for the second season DVD to become available.

Fox Hunting: Homeland's plot arc has a former prisoner of war suspected by a CIA agent of being a sleeper terrorist turned by Al Qaeda during his eight years of captivity. Marine Sergeant Nicholas Brady is elected to Congress, where he can wreak havoc from within the political system. My niece in England sent me a link to an article in the Guardian about Rupert Murdoch’s failed attempt to co-opt the American presidential race from within. 

It's by Carl Bernstein who has experience in these matters (for those too young to know, he’s the Bernstein of Woodward and Bernstein of Watergate reporting fame). Here are two links, the first to Bernstein’s article (http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/dec/20/bernstein-murdoch-ailes-petreaus-presidency), the second to the actual voice tape of the conversation between General Petraeus and K.T. McFarland of Fox News referred to by Bernstein that was obtained by Bob Woodward. Keep in mind this conversation happened a year before Petraeus’ downfall from his alleged affair

(http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/petraeus-in-2011-fox-news-interview-im-not-running-for-president/2012/12/03/c0aa0c72-3d6d-11e2-a2d9-822f58ac9fd5_video.html). 

Signature Moment: Ordinary Americans always strive to identify with their politicians. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever. My point is, the brouhaha over Treasury Secretary nominee Jacob J. Lew’s signature—a series of connected loops looking much like a Slinky on its side—has me identifying directly with the man whose scrawl would appear on all paper currency should he be confirmed by the Senate.

I for one can’t find fault with his illegible writing. Mine is what I call my executive signature, stroked so quickly that only, and just barely at that, can you make out the “M” of my first name. Sometimes when I sign legal documents I slow down, but that causes a problem, as when I go to the bank to gain access to our safety deposit box. I can never remember which signature I am supposed to match. 

My poor penmanship must be in my genes, for Dan as well has a signature where only the “D” is legible. I used to think Ellie’s signature was decipherable, but since she got married and changed her middle and last names, she too has channeled me, and I know what she’s supposed to be writing. 

Blame, or Praise, Me: If you're wondering why there hasn't been any snow this month, I have an explanation. In my quest for the perfect snow shovel I recently bought a wheeled shovel, good for up to six inches of flakes. I eagerly awaited the next snowfall to test out my purchase. 

Naturally the power(s) to be have thwarted my ability to test drive this model by spritzing rain on us versus snow. I hope you all appreciate this gift I have given you, unless, of course, you like shoveling snow and skidding along on snow-covered streets.

Recalls From Hell: Here are headlines over press releases you really don’t want to have to issue if you run a company:

“Columbia Sportswear Reannounces Its Recall of Batteries Sold With Jackets Due To Fire Hazard”

“High-Pressure Scuba Diving Air Hoses Recalled by A-Plus Marine Due to Drowning Hazard”