Patriots Day 2020

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Patriots Day is much my favorite holiday. (Why, here's one of the places I've said it before: on Pink Slip, last Patriots Day.)

This year, of course, the things that make Patriots Day Patriots Day aren't happening.

The Boston Marathon won't be run, so the city isn't full of runners, so there was no one strolling around yesterday in this year's BAA jacket. And they won't be strolling around tomorrow, proudly wearing their finishers' medals. I will miss seeing the amateurs out and about on their day after: the teacher from Brooklyn, the lawyer from Chicago, the nurse from Houston, the techie from Seattle. 

The runner's jacket changes color every year, and here's what this year's looks like.

This year's edition of the jacket is being modeled by my friend Jake Kennedy. Jake won't be running his 38th Boston this year. He won't be running it a) because it's not being run, and b) last fall he was diagnosed with ALS and is no longer able to run.

In January, Jake turned 65, and his kids threw a bash to celebrate.  On that snowy night, 500+ of Jake's family and friends showed up to show our love for Jake. (Here's a link to Christmas in the City, the charity Jake and his wife Sparky founded 30+ years ago to help those experiencing poverty and homelessness have a bit more comfort and joy around the holidays. CITC is one of the reasons that 500+ folks came out on a miserable night to sing Happy Birthday to Jake.)

One of the highlights of the evening was when the Boston Athletic Association, which runs the Marathon, presented Jake with what was on that date the as-yet-to-be-released 2020 jacket.

If you're wondering what the back looks like, here you go:

Note to self: text Jake and ask him what is that frog thing on the table next to his hip???

Anyway, there weren't any runners walking around yesterday with their jackets on, and there won't be any tomorrow, either.

Sad.

Sigh.

Come September...

Yesterday was beautiful, and there were a lot of people out for a walk. But I'd estimate it was about 1/3 the number who'd normally be out on any old beautiful spring Sunday, and 1/10th the number who'd normally be out on a beautiful Sunday the day before Patriots Day.

Yesterday, on my walk, I walked by the Marathon finish line on Boylston Street.

By now it would have been painted over for 2020, but all that's there is the worn out leavings of the 2019 finish line. (And note the ghost town sidewalks in front of the Boston Public Library.)

Sad.

Sigh.

Come September.

What also won't be happening today is the Red Sox, playing their early-start (11 a.m.) game at Fenway. Even though - because the park is quite near the Marathon course - it is a colossal pain in the ass to get to the game and back home, I love going to this game. Sometimes the weather is terrible. Sometimes the game is called on account of really terrible weather. Sometimes the weather is glorious. And sometimes the weather is just plain meh. 

Today's game would have been played in meh weather: 50-ish, cloudy. 

But I had tickets - great ones, in fact - and I would have loved being there with my sister Trish and niece Molly. Even though the Red Sox sucked last year, and I'm still pissed at them about that - and for not signing Mookie Betts.

No baseball.

Sad.

Sigh.

Come next April.

It goes without saying that the re-enactment of the Battle of Lexington will be virtual this year. 

Sad.

Sigh.

Come next April.

So there's not much to celebrate, Patriots Day-wise. 

What I will do to mark the day is take the walk I'd usually be taking on Patriots Day. I'll walk out the Commonwealth Mall, then through Kenmore Square, up Brookline Ave, and hook a left on Jersey - because this year, I had great tickets. If we were in the bleachers, I'd have gone down Landsdowne.

I'l circle Fenway Park, then head home.

The walk back will be different, because the streets won't all be blocked off for the Marathon.  

I'll retrace my steps through Kenmore, walk by the Eliot Hotel, and give a nod to the Eliot Lounge - is it even still open? - which used to be the post-Marathon gathering spot for runners and where, back in the day, before the Marathon got to be such a big deal, even non-runners could pop in, have a beer, and maybe even spot super-runner Bill Rodgers in the crowd.

I'll turn down Herefore, which the runners do, then bang a left on Boylston and amble past the finish line.

Every town along the Marathon route, from Hopkinton to Boston, is on the alert, warning runners, wannabe runners, and lookie loos that they need to stay off the Marathon course today. No showing up at the starting line in Hopkinton. No jumping in on Heartbreak Hill. No blasting over last year's finish line. 

Forget social distancing. The warning is stay the f out.

But I'll just be on a variation of my normal daily walk. 

Meanwhile, let's not forget what the day is really about. Ralph Waldo Emerson captured it pretty well in his lovely poem Concord Hymn, written to commemorate the Battle of Concord, and presented when they dedicated the monument on the battle's site. (The monument, an obelisk, is the "shaft" mentioned in the last line of the poem.)

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

The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;And Time the ruined bridge has swept; Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set today a votive stone;That memory may their deed redeem,When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dareTo die, and leave their children free,Bid Time and Nature gently spareThe shaft we raise to them and thee.

Happy Patriots' Day.

Maybe next year....