A bombing too close to home

Like most Americans, I was shocked on Monday when two bombs shattered the festive Boston Marathon holiday. Like most Americans, I felt that it was, in some respects, a personal attack on me. Like most Americans, I cheered at the death of one bomber and the capture of the other Friday night. Like most Americans, I look forward to seeing him get his due.

But this bombing hit closer to home for me than for most Americans. One of the fatalities – Krystle Campbell – was from Medford, my current home town. The assassination of the MIT campus police officer (and what was the point of that anyway?) occurred less than a half mile from my office in Cambridge and on the campus of my alma mater. The car chase, punctuated by the tossing of homemade grenades, took place on the banks of the Charles River, where I spent many hours running in my younger and more fit days. The shootout, and the death of the first bomber, occurred on a street on which one of my Little League players lived many years ago. The capture of the second bomber occurred less than half a mile from my son’s apartment in Watertown.

All of it very painful and very, very close to home.

But I must say that the Massachusetts State Police, the FBI and the Boston and Watertown police did a superb job in running these dogs to ground. I was very impressed by the surreal but very methodical and effective door-to-door search in Watertown. I think they all did a wonderful job under very stressful circumstances.

I take my Boston Red Sox cap off to all who participated in the search and capture.

But I hope I never see a week like that again.