But as the color drained from my father's face, as his jaw became clenched, and as his knuckles turned white, I realized there was something wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Soon the call ended, and Dad explained, slowly and somberly, what had happened.
I know that the mob of people who comprise the Boston community have made an incredibly brave decision: a decision to keep going. A decision to persevere and deny these evil-doers the ability to shatter our home. And so, as terrified as I may feel, I know that we will heal together.
No, in moments like these, all our differences -- age, background, nationality, ethnicity, gender, and yes, religion and beliefs -- are secondary. First and foremost we are human beings. And we want to help.