Boston Tragedy through the eyes of a Boston Girl

I'm Stephanie Giunta, 19 years old, born and raised north of Boston in Salem MA.  I've been studying Communication and Media Studies at Fisher College in the Back Bay of Boston for two years now.  After living in Boston, my favorite holiday of the year quickly became Marathon Monday.  The excitement and feeling of the weekend before the marathon, everyone walking around in their jackets, standing along the route telling people to just "keep going!" All of these things made the day special to me.  This is a map of where I live in comparison to the finish line of the marathon.  Copley Square is my neighborhood.  It's where I go to the gym, where I pick up my prescriptions, where I grab a quick lunch.  My plan Monday morning, April 15th, 2013, was to do exactly what I did the year before - get up early, head down to the mile marker, then end our day at the finish line. 

When I woke up Monday morning, my boyfriend surprised me with Red Sox tickets, a 11AM game that I have always wanted to go to.  We decided to alter our plans.  Wake up early, get ready for the game, head down to the finish line with friends, then walk to Fenway Park.  The picture below was taken at approximately 10:55 AM on April 15th.  We stood there and watched the first wave of hand cyclist come through. Not knowing what tragedy was going to ensue just hours after left this exact spot.

We went to the Red Sox game, decided to leave in the 8th inning (bad idea now seeming as the Rays tied it up in the 9th and Napoli brought home the win with a RBI double.) We watched the race in Kenmore Square at around 1:45 PM and made our way back to the Back Bay.  We walked down Newbury Street and got a bite to eat, taking our time.  By the time we were done, It was around 2:15 and we got a call from a friend that lives on Boylston (5 blocks away from Copley, toward downtown) to come hang out at his apartment, where all of our friends had ended up.  So, we walk down Newbury, parallel to Boylston, around 2:30, just 20 min before the first bomb went off.  We got to our friend's apartment and shortly after, someone looked at their phone and said... "Guys there was an explosion at the finish line."

It was difficult getting ahold of my family.  My phone didn't work, my sister tried to call me but since the lines were mixed, got ahold of a woman named Karen.  I took to twitter to have someone outside the city from a landline, call my house, to talk to my sister and let her know I was okay.  The outpouring of calls, texts, and tweets after my phone started working again just to see if I was okay was truly humbling.  Family all across the country was contacting my mom to check in, friends that are studying in Italy heard and contacted me, teachers were emailing me to see if I was safe and friends that I haven't heard from in years shot me a text or Facebook message, just to see if I was okay.   Normally I'm the one making sure things are okay, not the other way around.  I had no control over the situation.  For the next two hours we sat infront of the tv, and behind laptops, as the story unfolded on the news, and flooded social networks. My father, in Florida for work, was texting me, telling me when he thought it was safe for me to head back to school.  I walked down Boylston, crossed over to Charles street (pictured below) then down Beacon to my school.  This was the scene in the Boston Common, just two hours after the bombs.  There was National Gaurd and SWAT teams, and cop cars that I never even knew existed. As we walked we saw runners, still wrapped in their mylar blankets, on their phones, looking for family.  We walked fast, scared, and in shock.

The hours after the explosions were a blur of emotion and disbelief.  Watching the news and following news stories. Below is the MIT building in Cambridge, seen from my window in the Back Bay.  The whole building could be seen for miles and lit up the sky the whole night. 

The day after,  Fisher College didn't cancel class.  We were trying to get back into a normal schedule, sticking to a daily routine to keep normality in our lives.  Being a Communications Major,  I have a Advanced Reporting class.  Our teacher met us outside our classroom on Arlington Street and said "why would we have class in a stuffy classroom when the biggest news story in the world is happening blocks away?" So that's where we went, to the scene of streets littered with wires and tripods, reporters from all over the world repeating the details of the explosions as they developed.  My professor worked in Boston news stations for many years and knows a lot of  Boston journalists.  Pictured below is Susan Tran from 7 News WHDH Boston and I.  Susan shared her experience of the last 24 hours and the story from a journalists perspective.

 

Pictured below is news stations set up at the corner of Arlington and Boylston street.  Reporters came from all over the world to cover the story.  I saw stations from Russia, Canada, Japan, and all over the United States. 

***FOR MY SALEM READERS*** When I first started walking around Tuesday morning, I was definitely uneasy.  I was nervous, seeing people with guns on my normal walk to Starbucks can really  put a bad feeling in your stomach.  Just as I looked over my shoulder for what had seemed like the millionth time, something familiar caught my eye.  I glanced across Beacon Street toward the Public Garden and saw a few motorcycle cops parked and standing on the sidewalk.  What had caught my eye was the witch logo on the bike, and I instantly knew where these cops were from.  Even though I had every agent, detective, bomb squad, federal FBI, and even the National Guard within a block from me, as soon as I spotted the few Salem police officers, I knew I was safe.  These officers have protected me since I was born and it almost seemed as if they knew I needed the reassurance of safety of the place that I now call home. It was fate that out of every city and town that sent backup reinforcements to the city, that my hometown police department was stationed about a block away from where I now live.

The corner of Clarendon and Newbury Streets was littered with mylar blankets.  The scene just 24 hours after the bombs was untouched.  Water cups and blankets for runner after they finished the marathon.  People were coming by and grabbing the mylar blankets for memorabilia.

Anderson Cooper, a famous CNN journalist was broadcasting live from the corner of Commonwealth and Exeter.  The scene he set was two blocks away from the bomb site. National news was tucked away on this block, out of the bustle of the majority of news stations. 

On the corner of Exeter of Newbury, where Stephanie's restaurant is, there is still the same man standing there that was stationed there on Monday afternoon.  He was there for a full 24 hours, first helping the injured and later doing crowd control.  Also, note that everything was still in the way it was minutes after the bombs went off -- frozen in time.  Signs cheering on runners lay on the ground.

Below is a picture with a thousand words.  I watched this man walk up, looked like he just got out of work.  He carried with him a gym bag (like many business people do in the the city) and a bouquet of flowers.  He was wearing sunglasses but you could see the emotion on his face.  He walked right through the crowd and began trying to slip these flowers under a wire that was already attached to the tree.  No one said a word, but many walked right up and helped him to put the flowers up.  As he walked away, I watched him start to cry. Probably one of my most memorable and emotional moments of the days following the Marathon.

Below is what Charles Street looked like at 6:15 on Tuesday, normally it is stop dead traffic from rush hour, but on this day it was United States National Guard trucks and Boston Police cars.

The National Guard used the Boston Common for their base camp. A place where college kids throw around a frisbee and residents let their dogs run, was transformed into a place where men and women in head to toe camo took turns sleeping and standing guard at different points in the city.

The first vigil I attended was on the Boston Common the day following the Marathon.  The number of people that didn't really know about it, but stopped and stood still for a few seconds on their way home from work or class was amazing.  The crowd grew larger as time went on, as a beautiful chorus sang in the bandstand.  Many people were visibly upset, while others just stood in silence, but I saw many, MANY, hugs.

This was the candle light vigil after an Interfaith service at the Arlington Street Church.  Hundreds of people gathered to honor the people affected by the Marathon tragedy.  Pictured below is the vigil and people standing around the lagoon in the Public Garden.
Wednesday morning before noon, I walked down to the gate of where Boylston Street was closed.  They pushed it back on Tuesday at 3 pm to Berkeley Street, and the investigation was and still is ongoing.  These detectives, pictured below, were looking at every inch of Boylston, placing evidence markers at every spec of something that could tell them what happened.

Below is Ed Davis, the Boston Police Commissioner doing an interview on Newbury Street, just steps away from the scene of the crime.  Boston Police did updates every day on the advances in the investigation.

Every time I returned to the gate blocking off closed Boylston Street, there were more people taking pictures, leaving flowers and notes and signs.  The outpouring of emotion and people just doing whatever they can out of respect was most definitely abundant.

An example of the memorial set up at the gate.  These monks where there for hours, sitting, praying, singing.  No one told them to move or stop, just listened and respected their practices.  The man in the white next to the monks was there for hours, setting up peoples contributions, making sure everyone got a turn to appreciate it.

Pictured below are two dogs from the Lutheran Church Charities that came to visit Wednesday, just a few blocks away from my school.  They had a busy day greeting the morning commuters at Park Street, then traveling to hospitals and meeting with people injured by the blasts.  First picture is Maggie and the second is Luther.  Both truly put a smile on my face. Their owners were just as comforting as well, getting to know everyone that came by for a quick puppy love.

By Wednesday evening the memorial was growing and was very packed with people.  The man in the white (pictured before) had got pieces of paper for people to leave theirs words, thoughts, and prayers.

The framed medal left a message that will stay with me forever. It read -- "In 2011, I had my moment and celebrated with the support of my loved ones. No one can take those memories and that moment at the finish line away, no one should try to take yours.  I leave my metal for all those that never had their moment.  My heart goes out to all.  Stay Strong."