I got a text message the other day. It read:
“Help”
“Hello!”
I responded with:
“Who is this?”
And that was the end of that very odd conversation. I’m still not sure if I should be disturbed or not. I also still have no idea who it was.
*I’ve been posting occasionally over the past few days so I can remember what has been happening. It’s been an intense week.
After my last post yesterday, I was pretty stir crazy after having been cooped up inside all day. At the same time I felt nervous about venturing outside. While I was fairly sure that Suspect #2 was either still in Watertown holed up somewhere or had already slipped through the cracks and was far away, you really never know. So when I saw that local Brookline businesses were tweeting they would be open, I decided to wait for the Governor’s press conference to see what the latest updates would be.
Around 6 pm the city lifted the shelter-in-place and transportation bans, and I immediately headed to The Publick House for a much-needed drink with friends. The bar was packed with people, a nervous tension and energy in the air. Everyone was on their smartphones, constantly checking for updates. I couldn’t stop refreshing my Twitter feed to see if there were any news.
In the middle of one such refresh, I noticed posts on shots fired in Watertown. Things quickly progressed from there and we followed along on Twitter as the drama unfolded, and was finally resolved on that boat in a Watertown backyard.
Spontaneous cheers, applause, and chants of “USA” broke out in the bar. The Publick House almost immediately responded by playing Dirty Water, Sweet Caroline, and Shipping Up to Boston. Everyone was smiling and singing along. The sense of communal relief was palpable. We ordered another round of beers and toasted to the police, the first responders, the doctors, and to Boston. It was incredibly emotional; I felt overwhelmed with love for my city.
It is not over. Our world will not be the same. We still need to find out why these people perpetrated such a horrible crime against our city and the innocent Marathon bystanders. There is still a lot of work to be done. I hope that this sense of togetherness, love for each other, and community can persist in the days to come.
Empty Kenmore Square
I got home last night. I showered, I chatted with my mom on the phone, I went to dinner with friends and had too much to drink and stayed up way too late considering how jet lagged I was.
I woke up this morning and the world had changed. Boston on lock-down. Shelter in place orders in effect. So surreal, so crazy, so scary.
I don’t really know what or how to share right now. It’s still pretty unbelievable.
I am out of the country for work, and I was out to dinner with two colleagues on Monday evening. We stepped outside the restaurant to walk back to our hotel, and I realized that my phone had multiple emails and text message alerts popping up. I opened the first text which simply said, ‘Hey, are you OK?’ I was confused why I wouldn’t be OK, but at that same moment my coworker exclaimed that there had been a bombing in Boston.
The three of us stopped, in shock, in the middle of the crowded Old City street, staring at our phones– our lifelines to home– as people streamed around us. I started answering texts and emails, assuring friends that yes I was OK, even as more started to pour in. There was so little information to be had. We stood there numbly for some time, not really understanding what had just happened. In the cab ride home, we kept giving each other updates and passing along snippets of information. There was so little information to be had.
We got back to the hotel and got a much needed drink at the bar, all the while getting more and more updates from friends and family that they were safe, that they were OK, that they were still alive. Back in my room, I stayed up til 3 AM talking to my friends who had been there– just a few blocks away from the bombs. I obsessively scrolled through Facebook, making sure everyone I remotely knew who lived in Boston was OK and had posted something.
It was so hard to be here, in a foreign country for work, sitting alone in my hotel room, watching video after video on Boston.com, unable to view the live streaming news reports, relying on printed words on a computer screen to tell me that my loved ones were OK. It was so hard to see pictures of hospitals such as Brigham & Women’s, where I spent three days last summer when I was very sick, with ER doors (the same ER doors I’d walked through) patrolled by men with guns. To imagine the nurses that helped me and who were so kind, triaging blast victims. To think that if I hadn’t been away for work, I would have been down there with my friends, blocks away from the explosions. To remember the exhilaration I’d felt when I ran over the marathon finish line last year when I ran the BAA 5K the day before the ’12 marathon, down by Copley… and the loud cheers of watchers who were so happy for me– a random runner. To remember the excitement I’ve had for the past 7 years I’ve lived in Boston for Marathon Monday, and how this day is supposed to be about support, and love, and finding out what you are capable of, and cheering on runners, and laughing with friends, and unity.
I’m deeply saddened. But I’m also incredibly uplifted by the images and reports of those who ran towards the explosions. The helpers. The people who lent out phones, clothing, cars, blankets, homes, and comfort. The runners who, exhausted after completing nearly 26 miles, ran to the victims and started helping them. The people who picked up injured men and women and ran with them to ambulances and doctors. The volunteers who shuttled carload after carload of stranded runners to various locations around Boston. The reporters who, even as they were documenting what was happening, were busy tearing down barricades so emergency personnel could get to the injured.
I am stuck here for the next two days. But I can’t wait to get home. My heart feels incredibly full right now with love for my adopted city. Please excuse this ramble.
Why must life be so difficult sometimes? Things don’t come easy. It’s a constant struggle. Continuous cycle of ups and downs. Ebbs and flows. Tiring.
So it’s snowing here in Boston. Winter Storm Nemo. Snowmageddon. Arg.
Apparently blizzards are a great way to figure out the strength of your brand. At the grocery store this morning for some last minute necessities (bread, batteries, etc.) there was no Diet Coke to be had, but there was plenty of Diet Pepsi. I guess that answers the age-old question of Coke vs. Pepsi.
Also gone: Bananas, Pot roast, Skim milk, and Chips Ahoy. People clearly have their priorities straight here.
I just saw a commercial for Pepperidge Farm’s Jingos! crackers. First of all, when did it become acceptable to market your product by having people stand around and just yell the product name in various foreign accents? Also, the name is reminiscent (intentionally???) of ‘jingoism’ which is a term for seeing your country as superior to others (to the extreme). The cracker slogan is “Bold flavor, snappy crunch”. I find it really odd that Pepperidge Farm came up with something so off-putting.
Am I wrong? Are these crackers really delicious? Is jingoism acceptable these days? Why is there an exclamation point in the name?!
Have any of you ever used Rent the Runway? For those unfamiliar with RTR, it’s an e-commerce site that allows women to rent designer dresses. It’s luxury, on a budget. Many women end up ordering two or more sizes of a given dress they would like to wear, because let’s face it– we’re not all built this way and it can be hard to figure out what will look good on YOUR body.
Many of us have hips, and thighs, butts and boobs. One of my biggest pet peeves is that dress designers don’t seem to understand that not all women are an A cup, and not all women enjoy flashing as much boob as the average Kardashian. But I digress.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that RTR is replacing their models with pictures of real women, uploaded by users themselves, with the ability to search by characteristic (e.g. height and weight). RTR is not the only company that does this– ModCloth is another one that comes to mind. Modcloth lets users upload pictures of themselves in their reviews of an item. These types of ‘modeling’ are so so so helpful because you can actually see what the article of clothing looks like on someone who might look like you.
This shift away from the visual of the stick thin, ‘perfect’ model is notable because retailers are acknowledging that their customers do not fit the fantasy that most brands offer. However, does this mean that the brands are losing some of their cachet as a result? Or does this type of customer interaction make the brand more accessible? SHOULD brands be more accessible? There was an interesting quote from a NYT article on RTR:
“When you present a luxury brand, in my opinion it’s not about being accessible — it’s all about the dream, it’s all about the aspiration,” said Marc Beckman, founder of Designers’ Management Agency, which has negotiated deals for the designers Oscar de la Renta and Stella McCartney. While embracing customers’ own photos made sense for midprice brands, he said, it did not work at the higher end. “There’s a lot at risk,” he said.
In my opinion, luxury brands are always negotiating this tightwire of accessibility, especially in today’s world where social media is so prevalent. Ultimately the brand must decide whether or not they want to embrace new methods of communication, or hold tight to traditional roles and branding. (Eunnie and I explored this very issue with our Digital Beauty blog!)
EVERYONE I know is having babies these days. I am way way way behind the curve in life matters, apparently. So I guess it was appropriate that last night I had quite the vivid dream in which I suddenly found myself mother to a baby boy. Oddly enough, he seemed to be growing at a super speedy pace so luckily I got to skip all the newborn issues and he was pretty self sufficient. I’m still undecided if this was a nightmare or not.
I will admit to heaving a sigh of relief when I woke up. So… nightmare?
Edit: For those of you who aren’t on WordPress, it shares a quotation with you every time you post. As I published this particular post, here’s what came up for me: “Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you. -Marsha Norman” So…. my subconscious is definitely not happy with me.
At the end of the tunnel. Just a few more days.
