The Shadow of a Shadow

This part of the week, I work the night shift, so I really didn't know about any of this till I was hurrying to work late with NPR low in the background.

It hurts when it happens anywhere but it's weird how it resounds when it happens somewhere you know.

I grew up in Quincy, MA. Spent my childhood there. Went to college there. With friends or often by my self, I'd take a short T ride north and wander round the brick buildings and cemeteries and shops and people watch on the streets of that big old city. My first big city.

I've been to THE big city once or twice, the one in which all the movies and comic books are set. But this, on the bay, with the seagulls and a wicked strong disregard for R's, was my big city.

I always liked how old it felt.

We're such a young nation, still making so many young mistakes. Still learning when there's much time to learn, but those streets always felt grounded.

And cold is different there. And parades are different there. And the flag is different there. I can't explain it, because as hard as it is for me to call anywhere home, I guess there were times I felt kinda home there. Heck, I've never felt more patriotic than when hanging out, singing songs by the occupy tents near the bank buildings. Never felt more American than when watching breakdancers busk to the gaze of a sea of multi-colored faces.

I don't really know what I'm saying, but as I rushed to work, tired and disoriented from trying and failing to wake up on time for the night shift, I heard the news on the radio.

But right before that, they were replaying an interview with Tom Waits from 2009.

"The shadow of a shadow is light," he said.

Yeah, something like that.