Monday was Patriots’ Day in Boston — a local holiday commemorating the city’s unique role in the American Revolution. The Boston Marathon was being held. The Red Sox were playing early. People were outside enjoying the sun and festivities.
And then horror struck.
Two bombs went off near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Bodies and limbs lay scattered. Mothers searched for their children, spouses for loved ones and others desperately sought relatives or friends. It was pandemonium.
I had gone grocery shopping. I was at home with my wife and children, putting away the food when I got a phone call. A friend of mine, Rusty Humphries, who has a talk radio show, was on the line.
“Did you hear?” he asked.
“Bombs are going off in Boston,” he said. “Your city is under attack. Can you come on my show to talk about it?”
“Let me get some more information,” I said. “This can’t be happening.”
Sadly, however, it was. Right there on the TV screen, I saw Boylston Street soaked in blood. Copley Square was filled with smoke and debris. First responders were …