It would be, I feel, almost inhuman not to devote a posting to the tragedy in Boston. I don’t use the word tragedy very often. I have been blessed with a good life, but I have seen tragedy up close: my son’s diagnosis of a heart defect, my oldest child laying on a hospital bed with a spinal tap needle in her back, my youngest looking out from the locked door of a hospital. I know tragedy. I am the queen of “get a real problem”.
But yesterday, Boston, and by proxy, all of us, experienced tragedy. And, as is often the case, I don’t have anything insightful or helpful or deep to say about it. I just have an overhanging sense of sorrow, of disgust, of disbelief.