Monday, April 22, 2013

Pictorial Splendor

Someone far wiser than I - talk about winnowing down the list of probables not at all - once observed that a picture's value is equal to that of one thousand words.  This past seven-day period 'twas a rough one in these United States, including but not limited to the loss of lives due to disasters of both the natural and the man-made variety.  It was enough to make you want to shut off the alarm clock, pull the covers up over your head and hunker down with your head on the pillow to ride out the storm.  

We the people of these United States are resilient.  Whether it is Mother Nature or two mother f*ckers who knock us on our collective ass, we always find a way to pull ourselves up off of the canvas.  Rocky Balboa's charm rested in the fact that he was not just one of us.  He was every one of us.  We believed in his ability - regardless of how implausible it might have seemed - to absorb a beating, to get knocked down and to get back up again.  He did it in the ring.  We do it ourselves every day.  

And Tuesday night in Boston - roughly twenty-four hours after that city and its residents absorbed a body blow - roughly 17,000 of those very same folks stood as one at the Garden.  In one voice and as one organism they reminded the world of the enormity of the distance between down and out.

It turns out that it is a whole hell of a lot further than the distance between Hopkinton and Boylston Street.   I reckon that in our heart of hearts we always knew that to be the case.

The choir at the Garden this past Tuesday night merely confirmed it.  


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