Boston

Boston Skyline,  Saturday April 13, 2013

My heart goes out to the running community and all those affected by this tragedy. I was born in Boston and while I haven't lived there in years, I still consider it my hometown.  Most of my family and so many friends are a part of this special community. 

In fact, I was in Boston all week before the race.  My dad had just had heart surgery at Tufts Medical Center and I had been visiting him with my mom and other family members for eight days.  He was released from the hospital just on Sunday.  I thought about staying on Monday to watch this magical race one more time for inspiration and to see some of my heros, like Olympians Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher. But I wasn't feeling too good, so I drove home to Maine and watched the race, start to finish, on my computer.  

As a marathon runner who grew up just a mile from Heartbreak Hill and have been a lifelong fan of this historic marathon, I've come to know it as one of the greatest sporting events in the world.  I will train even harder now with the hope of running this treasured race someday with spirits of those who lost their lives on this tragic Patriot's Day in Boston. 

Kids are Alright part 3.

School's out for the Summer

The celebration of the start of summer usually brings teachers great joy, but for me, there was only more anxiety.  I have always found peace and solace, sitting on the beach late in the afternoon with a book in one hand and a drink in the other. But as sat in my beach chair on the first day of summer and I looked out over the cool blue-green Atlantic Ocean, I noticed my usual unobstructed view wasn't so clear.  On my horizon were several obstacles and a few promising new adventures.

The Kids are Alright part II

Preface

Today I learned that a British transgender teacher was found dead in her home. Its believed she killed herself.  I can’t stop thinking about her and my tears have now run dry.   Despite the bright sun and welcome spring-like weather, it feels like I’m suffocating in a dark grey cloud of sadness.  Usually my long Sunday run is rejuvenating, triggering endorphins and brightening even the darkest days, but it didn’t today.  I never met this woman and only saw a picture of her this morning.  I recall reading a few blog posts earlier this year about her and how she began to transition in school.  I guess I had a personal interest and it was encouraging to learn of her story, especially that she had her school’s apparent support.  But the bloodthirsty tabloid press constantly hounded her from the time her private details became public, and her life was never the same again.  Nearly two years ago, I came out to my school community,

The Kids are Alright

It was an early January morning in Maine and the temperature outside was somewhere below zero. I don’t think it matters all that much once the mercury drops below freezing; it was cold.  I was sitting in my warm car trying to find the courage to walk across the parking lot and go inside.  I had cafeteria duty at the high school where I was a teacher for eight years.  During my tenure at this school and at all the other schools where I taught in my 19 year career I worked outwardly as a man, but that was all about to change.

Melting Snow

I sat in my warm car, hiding from the late winter wind that howled through the streets of Boston waiting for the right time to go into the club. The sun was setting and the city looked desperately attractive a week after an historic snowstorm.  It was a familiar place, but a very far different era.  It had been a long time since I was here, with a boyfriend, 25 years ago.  He was cute and playful,

Connect the Dots

Recently, after participating in panel discussion about gender and sexuality for high school students, a young woman, maybe 16-years old, hesitantly approached and thanked me for sharing my story.  I was touched by her compliment, and I could sense she wanted to say more.  With her friends by her side, she confided in me, that she recently came out to her family,

honey

who’s that girl
hiding behind her past
dressed in golden yellow
disguising a heart
that beats like a gazelle
hunted by a lion
chasing its tail