Eight-year-old Martin Richard: The first dead brother of the Boston Bombing Blast.

Breaking Boston News

Boston Marathon Street SceneJust like the rest of the world, last week’s bomb that blasted Boston during the world’s most famous marathon shook me at my core. Again? Terrorism? A bomb?  For the most part I avoided television beyond the initial day and opted to read numerous reports from national news affiliates.

Afterall, reading is fundamental.Headlines from around the globe

On the third day, I decided to write. I was tremendously moved and saddended by the death of eight-year-old Martin Richard. I am a mother, a grandmother, a human being with compassion. So many of the details I read made the circumstances worse. No one was reporting (widely) about his sister who is now an amputee or his mother who endured surgery on her brain.

Since last week, reports have emerged regarding the brothers, white cap and black cap, both of whom have been named prime suspects in the bombing, a cowardly act of domestic terrorism with proported foreign terrorism links.

I refuse to glorify the two Chech brothers and further refuse to type their names. They have become the foremost subjects of the bombing as suspects. Less we forget who the real victims are. Eight-year-old Martin Richard was also a brother. An older brother. A younger brother. A son and a human being who deserved to live.

The following are my thoughts from last week’s writing which somehow emerged as both a blog and a poem…guess that makes it a plog or a boem.

Eight-Year-Old Wins Boston Marathon

dedicated to Martin Richard

boston martin richard








Two days ago, a bomb blasted Boston.

Two twin booms, 12 seconds apart startled the tension of trained marathon runners.

Pre-race worries were simply the strength of their Achilles.

Airborne limbs have left the innocent labeled amputees and

once again a young dreamer named Martin has lost his life.

Eight-years-old and already a symbol for peace;

a pint-sized recipient of a headstone he didn’t earn.

Pressure cookers were believed the suspected culprit.

Pressure cookers were believed to be smuggled in duffel bags ─ dark and heavy ─ like gathered skin sagging beneath a coward’s eyes.

According to the White House, President Barack Obama betrayed no emotion in offering his statement to the press:

“Any event with multiple explosive devices ─ as this appears to be ─ is clearly an act of terror.”

This can only mean one Commander-in-chief thing: It’s ON!

The city of Boston has been blasted.

The remnants have birthed blame and the young, late Martin Richard’s mother can’t sleep. Her baby boy is dead. She, too, was damaged by the bomb ─ surgeons’ saved her brain. Oddly, God protected her maternal psyche.

His sister lost her leg and a husband and father is simply left to mourn.

America joins him.

I, too, am a woman losing sleep over life. This bomb attempted to erase my memories. Boston was the city of popular frequent during my Lesley University graduate school days. Cambridge and Harvard Square were neck-tie nice and summer-stroll cool but,

Boston’s where you trekked to feel good noise.

Everybody thinks they know Boston for baked beans, clam chowder, and the Sock-it-to me Red Sox, but the bookstores (baby), the massive museums, the jazz and that  Baaahhston dialect that slips through lips as though syllables were birthed to yawn.

There’s something kindred about a bomb at the footstool of folks you knew and still know. Lives were lost; bodies were injured and hurled down streets I casually walked. It feels like a domestic or foreign visitor roamed the same asphalt and spit in patriotic wind.

Boston belongs to everybody because we were 6th grade history, massacre-forced and double s – double t drilled to spell Massachusetts. But I Phyllis Wheatley, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. know Boston.

I former flight attendant ─ Logan Airport remember Boston before the blast. Frankly, I’m feeling all “What the hell?” and 911 pissed all over again. A bomb has killed a beautiful young boy?

While blogging, I’m pumping Quincy Jones’ “Back on the Block” album from way back when.

Big Daddy Kane kicked it off with rhyme;

Birdland has blared;

Sarah Vaughn screamed a sassy scat;

And now Take 6 is acapella acting out.

I’m waiting for Maestro Jones to bless Boston with the reason I’ve always loved Track 12:

Tomorrow ─ (A Better you, a Better me)” featuring Tevin Campbell

 “I hope tomorrow will bring, a better you, a better me.

I know that we’ll show this world we got more we could be

So you should never give up on your hopes and your dreams

You gotta get up, get out, get into it, get it on to be strong…”

 Martin Richards will never see another tomorrow, feel his mother’s warm embrace, or spike chicken nuggets in ketchup during lunch with his third grade classmates. Martin’s race is over; he crossed the Boston Marathon finish line first.

 We are a strong America. We get up, get out, get into it, and get it on.

We keep it movin’ and

We are not deterred by terrorism.

I hope tomorrow will bring a better you, a better me…

I hope tomorrow will bring a better world.

This was the dream of two Martins.

 Penny Dickerson 2013

7 comments on “Eight-year-old Martin Richard: The first dead brother of the Boston Bombing Blast.

  1. If we try, we can fly to a whole ‘nother place
    All we need is belief and a smile on our face
    We can go anywhere we want, any road we decide to take
    And we’re never, never, never too far from tomorrow today…


  2. Tears welled in my eyes. Beautiful, truth, stirring my heart and soul. Precious peaceful child. Thank you again Penny for putting like no other can.

    with love,


  3. I can think back to 9/11 and remember everything that happened and where I was. I even remember the awkward sense of dread in the air by businesses all at pause as the owners and customers. Our school seemed to be frozen as we skipped that gym class. The school let out early and we had no clue what happened, just that everyone seemed to be panicking. It wasn’t until my dad came home early and told me that I started to understand. He tried to explain what he could to someone who only seen stuff like that in video games and cartoons. I know just how these people feel and the fear of not knowing if it is the end of it. I still think this country has not seen the last. I questioned my dad at the dinner table last night what he thought. He thinks it was a random event, but I feel like their can’t be random events like this that are not planned and thought out years ahead of when its due to occur.


  4. Although I may need it, but i’m not writing this particular comment for extra point. As I learned from my class with you that not every thing is about extra point or how many words, as much as learning something new and useful. So i’m writing as a pure message to the WORLD.

    The People who know me, know that I’m not a huge fan of WRITING and Reading, but since I came back from the Jax beach parade two days ago, there were so many words trying to knock the hell out of my skull bone and blowing out of my brain. But they couldn’t till this song was played in my gym from nowhere last night. I couldn’t resist writing now while I’m listening to it , to all the people who may or may not know me and to “Every Body in the Universe”. ….

    In this unfortunate time of grudges, hates, and “FABRICATED” fights and wars between different ethnicity, races, religions, etc!!… Last Sunday was my first time in my life participating inside a PARADE representing my loved sport “Rugby” w/the most lovely people in the Nation (the family of the National Champs the Jax Axemen). Regardless to who was inside/outside watching the parade, I tended to SEE, FEEL, AND BELIEVE that we were all “Representing” LOVE……

    People from DIFFERENT Colors, Races, nationalities, and Religions were dancing together to the SAME music, besides all those Kids (OHH those kids ) who waved to us with their pure smiles that carried to much fun and delight in their eyes, and their excitement while they were tossing our Rugby balls with us in our “RUGBY” parade (The most sport in the world that representing LOVE, where you see two DIFFERENT teams shake the hands of each player, then eat and drink together after a very tough game)..

    The whole thing was another eye opener to me and huge reminder to a simple question “Who is behind stealing our pure smiles, and never stopped FABRICATING fights and stupid WARS between humans since the time of Adam and Eve,,, and kept killing thousands and millions of CHILDREN (who still wondering to us for what SIN they got killed) and innocent souls that has nothing to do with that Religion, Race, or Ethnicity excuses that humans fighting over since hundreds of years ???” But I’m sure we all know the answer!!!

    I hope the whole “WORLD” wake up one day, knowing our real enemy, and stand against him not against each other, and people try thinking to be better than their own selves they were yesterday, instead of trying to be better than other people and hold hates and grudges for them. I couldn’t find better than the following quote from (World Hold On Lyrics – by Bob Sinclair)

    ”That I can’t think of a better time to say.
    WORLD, Hold on.
    Instead of messing with our future, Open up inside.
    WORLD, Hold on.
    One day you’ll have to answer to the children of the sky.
    But I’m Right here, spread looooooove”

    I DARE YOU that you not to dance to this song or at least move your head with the beat of the music and having a smile inside out your face and soul :), no matter what your Religion or Race is 🙂

    Love and Peace 🙂
    Saif Kareem

    The song link (http://youtu.be/HDaHn2jvr9w)


  5. This story is moving and reminds us how well in the midst of tragedy we unite as one…too bad its what it takes to do so.


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