The race continues: in memory of Martin Richard

April is upon us; it will be one year since the bombs exploded at the finish line to the Boston Marathon. My heart still breaks. We say, "my heart is breaking for those people," all the time, but we don't mean it. We feel sympathy and imagine how awful those affected must feel, and then we move on. The next tragedy lights up CNN's ticker and our watercooler chatter.

Once you have experienced true heartbreak due to the end of a relationship or the loss of a loved one, you know what that entails.  You carry the ache with you, and maybe it will subside incrementally with the passing of a season, but it never truly leaves you. That ache, at once pronounced and eventually more dull, is always there. Its imprint is permanent so that it changes you.

The bombings in Boston on April 15, 2013 changed me, and I know I am not alone in this.

Many of us can mention a word and it flips a switch in our consciousness, such that when my friend Litch finds himself complaining, his wife Shelley will simply say, "Haiti," and Litch's purview on what constitutes a real problem shifts. He remembers the abject poverty he and Shelly observed on their trips to Haiti. He knows the flat tire on his Prius is a privilege, not a problem.

For me, I've not had many of these consciousness changers. I was born into privilege, I have known a life of comfort, I have experienced season after season of relative ease.

But for the last year, the mere mention of the name "Richard" has sent me reeling. I see their late son Martin Richard with the deep pools of brown eyes reminding us with his magic marker scrawled message to pursue Peace. To stop hurting people. I think of his mom, Denise Richard, my first neighborhood mama friend in Dorchester. I think of their family and their pain and their loss and then I think of their triumph just in putting one foot in front of the other, or, in the case of their daughter Janie Richard, putting one prosthetic leg in front of her God-given Irish step-dancing leg. That's all I need to reframe this moment in time. I hug my children more tightly, I give thanks for the blessing of scrubbing pee-soaked bathroom floors for these people; I give pause because--the Richards.

This is not to say that I give thanks in any way for the unimaginable pain of the Richards (or anyone with sense memories of that day). Their tragedy is not for my utility.  I am thankful, simply, that our stories continue.

If one motif has crystallized for me in these last twelve months, it is this: that the wisdom of the Marathon bombings is about the heart of children never leaving their parents, and the heart of parents never truly leaving their children.

• Anzor Tsarnaev left his children in the United States in 2011; he was ill with cancer and vowed not to die in America. He was not able to bury his eldest son; he may never see his youngest son again.
• Denise and Bill Richard, both injured, had to leave Martin at the scene of the crime. They had to leave their slain son, an innocent lamb, where police stood protecting him until all evidence had been gathered. He was covered with the sheet from a nearby restaurant. Under a pure sheet of white, Martin laid. 
• An all-loving father in Heaven sent his only son to a broken planet and allowed him to die for crimes he never committed.

But none of these stories ends there. Tsarnaev will mourn his sons and his family's dissolution. The Richards will mourn Martin and they will heal and they will fight the flames of hatred with peace through the MR8 Foundation. They bring beauty from ashes and I am moved to tears at the very thought of the name Richard.

And my savior rose on the third day, a day that is marked this year one day before the Marathoners will lunge and launch into 26.2 miles of self-inflicted agony to test their bodies' endurance  to reach the finish line.

Those who cheer on the sidelines, those who assist the injured, those who protect and serve and report and promote peace--they are all a part of this story that continues as we all run this hard race until glory beckons us all home.

***

To contribute to the MR8 Foundation, you can make a tax-deductible contribution here. 

Resume of Celebrity Encounters

Have you ever thought about the famous people you may or may not have met in aggregate? If so, did it remind you of the wonderfully whimsical and star-studded life you've been blessed to lead or did it make you feel all sorts of depressed? Well, I will have you know that *I* think the fact that you met the Snapple Lady makes you awesome. I am striving to remember the semi-star-studded encounters that dot my past. Here are the ones I can recall ::elitist sigh since there have been so many::

Ted Koppel - Unremarkable personality but great hair. Met him when my internship bossman in DC invited a group of interns and staffers to have lunch with him.

Sam Donaldson - Terrifically spirited. Spoke at an internship thingy in DC.

Helen Thomas - Spunky, smart, and very hard of hearing by the time I met her. She spoke at another lunchtime roundtable at my internship in DC.

Kristen Bell - My friend Greg took her home for Thanksgiving. They were classmates at NYU. This was before Veronica Mars and Sloths and Frozen. She is incredibly beautiful in person so to keep myself from nervously gawking at her, I talked about her bracelets and she told me she bought them from a street vendor in Manhattan and then I went back to staring at her pretty face.

Audra McDonald - Way down-to-earth. Very quick to laugh. I met her after "Ragtime" on Broadway. This picture is the second time I met her - at Blossom Music Center near Cleveland, Ohio.

Hilary Clinton - Sat behind her on a plane traveling from NYC to DC (when she was a NY Senator--remember that?). I walked with her to the baggage claim. She is a petite woman.

Jason Mraz - So this one makes me a hipster wannabe. I won free tickets through a radio station in Boston to see Mraz's show at the House of Blues. It was right after his single "The Remedy" was becoming really big. I was standing outstide HofB waiting for my friend Adam to meet me to give him the other ticket. A group of people get out of a purple Mazda and haul all kinds of instruments inside and as he passes me with his scruffy face and hat, I realize it is Jason Mraz and it still makes me proud that I saw him live when he was touring in a Mazda.

Anne Bancroft - She was likely in the late stages of uterine cancer when I met her but she was still absolutely beautiful. She told a group of us at this summer writing conference to capture a caterpillar and let me tell you, you just do what Mrs. Robinson says.

Billy Collins - Great poetry teacher at a summer writing conference. Unscrupulous in other ways.

Paul Simon - sat in front of me at an outdoor reading at the summer writing conference. Pretty much my height.

Ray Romano - We heard him before we saw him on Martha's Vineyard. That voice! That man! With twin boys! Loverpants and I spun on our heels and awkwardly watched them play skeeball in a video arcade.

Frank McCourt - demured when I asked him at the summer writing conference if he would do an Irish jig with me, "Maybe a Venetian Waltz," said he. Absolutely adorable.

Nate Berkus and Bethenny Frankl - The one cool thing I have done in my 30s besides paying taxes has been getting to be an audience member on the Nate Berkus Show. His guest was Bethenny Frankl. She makes me laugh.

Those are some of the more remarkable encounters although most of them are probably lame compared to all of your backstage pass experiences. You can tell I am not a big sports fan, either.

I also saw Ben Stein walking around Copley Square in Boston; he winked at me. I'm still not sure how I feel about this.

Dear Mrs. First Lady,

First, please accept my thanks for your groundbreaking work in helping to reduce our childhood obesity levels significantly in this country! Thank you for being an advocate, a role model, and for making the sustainable health of our future a priority. As a mother and teacher, thank you for your leadership. The second and chief reason for my letter may appear a bit frivolous. However, my motives are pure and my cause is noble.

I would like to request your consideration of inviting my friend, Mrs. Autumn Shirley Smith and her son Paul to the White House for the annual Easter Egg Roll. I know at this time the lottery has closed, but I believe Autumn and Paul are worthy of an extension.

Last week, Autumn buried her husband, Dugan Smith, US Army Ret. SPC. During the course of their marriage, Dugan kept Autumn laughing, delighted in his son Paul, and lived bravely with ALS. He participated in fundraisers to help the search for a cure to ALS. His positivity and was a source of inspiration to his Army friends and community. Throughout their marriage, Autumn was and remains a warrior for her family.  Autumn made time, however, to stay fit with her own boot camp program, knowing the importance of self-care as a full-time caretaker for her family.

Autumn, formerly a probation officer, is adjusting to life without Dugan. Of this past Friday, she writes:

Friday was Dugan's 41st birthday. The rain came down in buckets...the temperature didn't break 38 degrees, but Dugan's Field Artillery Unit from Ft. Bragg carried out the military honors for him. They stood out in the rain. I'm not sure how long they were out there. Well over an hour. Drenched berets, blue hands, I could see them trying not to flinch while being pelted by the freezing rain. Pride and loneliness filled my heart and a little boy wearing Incredible Hulk socks and his daddy's favorite football sweater filled my lap. Paul kept whispering to me, "I want them to give me the flag...is that my flag...can I have the flag"? There was nobody more proud of their father than Paul was when the solider knelt down and presented him with the flag. Paul carried the flag and I carried Paul. And Paul held his head up high as we walked behind the soldiers who carried his dad because as Paul said "that's what happens when you're a superhero." Mrs. Obama, knowing your passion for caring for our military families, as well as your advocacy for the optimal health of a family, would you please kindly consider extending an invitation to the Smiths as you compile your guest list for the annual Easter Egg Roll?

Yours very sincerely, Kendra Stanton Lee Chattanooga, TN