dcnovice
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The New Yorker recently had what I found a moving essay and cartoon about Boston.
From the essay:
The crude shrapnel bombs that exploded twelve seconds apart at 2:50 p.m. last Monday, on the sidewalk just yards from the finish line, were designed to shred muscle and shatter bone. This they did, with terrible efficiency. If the killers also meant to crush the spirit, “they picked the wrong city to do it,” President Obama proclaimed, at a memorial service in Boston three days later. The two brothers who apparently planted the bombs may have planned on big crowds and the attention of global media, but they didn’t figure on the solidarity that defines Boston on Marathon day. Maybe people in the vicinity of bomb blasts in any city, on any day, would rush toward, not away from, the carnage and the danger. Or maybe not. It shouldn’t be surprising that so many did it in that city on that day.
* * *
Since we live in a period when many things in America don’t work, it’s almost strange to find so many institutions and individuals meeting our highest standards. The bravery, humanity, and sheer competence of people in Boston recalled London during the Blitz, or New York on September 11th. Perhaps Americans have been mentally preparing to deal with an atrocity of this sort ever since that day. The wonder is that it took so long.
“We finish the race,” the President said at the memorial service. “We finish the race. And we do that because of who we are. And we do that because we know that somewhere around the bend a stranger has a cup of water. Around the bend somebody’s there to boost our spirits. On that toughest mile, just when we think that we’ve hit a wall, someone will be there to cheer us on and pick us up if we fall.” With too much practice, the President has become magnificent at healing Americans’ spirits.
* * *
By the end of the week, with bomb victims still fighting for their lives in emergency wards, and the entire metropolitan area on lockdown, history had returned to Boston, and the city was easy to love. A man named Ian wrote in an e-mail, “Although I have lived in this area for almost thirty years, I haven’t necessarily thought of myself as a Bostonian. Although I think Boston is a nice enough city in which to live, I’ve never really been connected to it as a whole community. I like the parts I like, and I don’t like the parts I don’t like. In terms of attitude, I often identify more with the people of San Francisco or New York than with those of Boston. But when the marathon bombers struck, I took it personally. They attacked my city. I felt a real kinship, a real connection with the people of Boston, all the people of Boston. And I realized that I don’t just live here. This is my home.”
Compete essay at http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2013/04/29/130429taco_talk_packer
And here's the cartoon:
_____________________________
No matter how cynical you become,
it's never enough to keep up.
JANE WAGNER, THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF
INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE
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The New Yorker on Boston - 
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