Sun And Shadow On Patriots’ Day

April 19, 1997

“Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud,
And after summer evermore succeeds
barren winter with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.”

(Gloucester to Humphrey, HENRY IV, Act II Sc. 4)

The Shakespeare quotation meshes with my feelings on this two-hundred-twenty-second anniversary of the early rebellions of our American Revolutionary War. When I was young, this was an important holiday in Massachusetts.

In elementary school we had memorized appropriate poems: Longfellow’s “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere”:

“’Twas the eighteenth of April seventy-five
Hardly a roan is now alive
Who remembers that fateful day and year...”

Emerson’s “Concord Hymn” began:

“By the rude bridge that arched the flood
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.”

But now there are shadows, “The brightest day hath a cloud.” April 19 is also the second anniversary of the worst terrorist event our country has known: The bombing in Oklahoma City destroyed a building and killed 168 people. Most of us will not soon forget the piteous sight of the bloodied children being carried away from the site of the bomb blast.

Perhaps when you read this, the trial of the accused bomb plotters will have ended, one way or another. However much some people might hate, resist and hate the Federal Government, to express rebellion by killing 168 innocent persons is both unforgivably murderous and completely asinine. How any movement, “militia” or whatever, justifies such acts of hate is beyond my comprehension.

I recalled, perhaps irrelevantly, Robin Lane Fox and her history of early Christian leaders and their prejudicial bias against human sexuality:

“In 251, Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, was telling his Christians that the plague in the city had its advantages; it allowed Christian virgins to die intact.” (p. 251)

If the Bishop was trying to distill some good out of the tragedy of the plague, his effort was obsessionally stupid.

April 19 is also the fourth anniversary of the final action in the Branch Davidian events near Waco, Texas, where 81 lives were lost. Although some circumstances of that tragedy still seem cloudy, it is another example of the terrible consequences that can happen when a religious cult disdains and shuts out the world wherein we all must live. Where, also, we must get along together, somehow, even when that world is insecure, hazardous, or just displeasing.

Such are shadows on Patriots’ Day. But also I remember sunny days and happy events. First of all, we celebrated on the 19th, not two days later in order to create a “long” weekend. Because I am not pleased with that transference, you may think me a “purist” or overly sentimental, but so be it.

April 19 was the traditional day when we planted peas in the backyard vegetable garden. In a normal growing season, they would be ready for picking July 4.

That was important because there were several years when, on the 4th of July, Grandfather John Wilson would bring a large, fresh salmon for the holiday meal. To go with the baked salmon there would be boiled new potatoes and fresh peas from the garden. In my mind’s ear I can still hear the rattle of the peas hitting the pan as they were stripped from the pods – like a tiny machine gun. What a meal!

But my associative memories are always enhanced when they relate to my grandfather. A skilled ship’s carpenter, carpenter, pattern maker, he was gentle, wise and strong. His daughters and sons-in-law deferred to him and listened to him, not just because he was family but a man who deserved every bit of the respect given him. He was the honored Patriarch of the family.

Back to April 19 and the Boston Marathon. Nowadays the report is that a million people now gather along the 26 mile, 385 yard route. When I was a boy, large crowds lined the sidewalks, particularly from Kenmore Square to the finish line, then at the BAA Clubhouse.

On Patriots’ Day in the 1920s, the major league baseball teams would play two games, morning and afternoon. This gave spectators time to watch the leading runners after the morning game. If the Red Sox were at home, it was only a few minutes from Fenway Park to Kenmore Square. If the Braves were playing, Braves Field was on Commonwealth Avenue on the Marathon route. (The Boston Braves moved to Milwaukee and then to Atlanta. The Atlanta Braves are a winning team-been in several world series. The old BOSTON Braves were not. When they won the pennant in 1914, they were called the “Miracle Braves.” But I have some fond memories of Braves Field - the Knothole Gang, Rabbit Maranville, Wally Berger and, notably, “Spahn and Sain and two days of rain”, a winning formula for the Braves.)

The Boston Marathon celebrated its 100th anniversary last year – the oldest and most famous marathon in the country. This year is the 101st running. But they’ll run on April 21, damn them. There will be 10,000 runners starting at noon. No American has won since 1983.

However, I remember a big winner from the early days. Clarence DeMar won seven times, I believe. He was a Boston hero because he worked in Dorchester and lived in Melrose. He was a printer. Pure amateurism prevailed then. No money prizes; no subsidies for training or living expenses or wearing a particular brand of running shoes. The winner received the traditional crown of laurel leaves and the famous beef stew of the BAA (Boston Athletic Association). All the finishers got the beef stew but only the winner the laurel crown.

Not only did I see Clarence DeMar leading the race several times but also early one Summer evening in Maiden Square as I stood on the sidewalk, there came the sound of running feet; and Clarence DeMar ran right by me, his bald spot shining with sweat. His year-round training schedule was to run home from :work, Dorchester to Melrose, about 15 to 18 miles every working day! What was I doing in Maiden Square? I don’t remember but as a boy I was always a bit of a wanderer.

In one of these musings, I’ll relate my singular experiences on Mt. Hood – NOT, I HASTEN TO ADD, in Oregon, but a county reservation in the Malden-Saugus area.

The length of this piece may emphasize how and why April 19 is to me one of the great dates in the roster of holidays.