Boston Strong

I remember my grandfather had a police scanner on his immaculate wooden desk, right next to the dining room table where my family and I would have holiday dinners.

It was a part of the scene, tucked away, while the turkey was served during Thanksgiving.  Sometimes it was left on, the police, or fire department radio, barking out some incident.

My grandfather and grandmother lived on the "Nawth Shaure" in Marblehead, about an hour from Boston.  It's where my love of the Boston Red Sox first grew, and it's where my connection to the city began, through many trips to Fenway Park and the city.

I used to wonder why he had a scanner on his desk.  After all, he wasn't a policeman, or firefighter.  Sure, he was a good member of the community, as was his wife.  But, still, I wondered, why would you desire a police scanner on your desk?  Entertainment for your grandkids?  Information in a pre-internet age?

I thought an awful lot about that scanner when the horrors of the bombings at the Boston Marathon unfolded.
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