This is way off-topic for me but I figure as I am both my own editor and web master, who is going to stop me? That’s right, I’m drunk with power. Mwaaahh!!

On Wednesday night I watched from Portland, OR as the Boston Red Sox did something I had always wanted to see them do- win a World Series on their home field (it hadn’t been done since 1918 – they were on the road for both the 2004 & 2007 victories). I was getting choked up trying to explain to the boyfriend why this was exciting (he kept claiming to “not get” sports-fan-dom) I spoke of generations of Sox fans, I talked about the electricity in the air at Fenway, I talked about how the Sox (with the exception of , oh, I’m going to say ’09-11) always manage to feel like underdogs. Now, I’m no die-hard, life-long Sox fan. I didn’t even start paying attention until I met my former husband. But after seeing that city come alive for the 2004 victory parade I was a bit hooked.

I moved to Portland on April 12th 2013. On April 15th two bombs went off on Boylston Street. One was in front of 671 and the other was in front of 755. I used to work at 867. Our neighbor to the right, McGreevy’s bar, has a sign out front that proudly boasts that it is a mere “1200 steps to Fenway”. Last April watching my my old stomping grounds become the scene for such mayhem and horror was devastating. Last night seeing Boston win it all at home, so close to the site of all that mayhem I was so happy for them. So thrilled that they could have this moment after the terror and despair of Marathon Monday 2013 to show the world that they are not broken. They are stronger than fear.

I’m not surprised.

You see, Boston is the third in a line of places I’ve called home to face destruction. I’ve watched three places that shaped me as a person get the crap kicked out of them  and only recently realized that this is kind of unique. When it comes down to it, the places that I grow up all seem to blow up…

But, they all get back up. They are all fairly bad ass. I come from hardy stock and I think there’s something for all of us to learn from all of these places, all of my beloved homes. I’ve decided to have a little think over the three places I’ve loved and, to a certain degree, lost and see what we could take away from each place.  So here goes.

New York

Last spring, I was on a bus from New Jersey into NYC to do some shop visits and I was emailing from my phone, like you do. We hit some traffic and I stopped to look up. We were approaching the Lincoln Tunnel and I saw, for the first time in over a decade, a tower in lower Manhattan. Then I cried.

Growing up in New Jersey 11 miles outside of the Lincoln tunnel the New York skyline was usually visible. It was how I learned north, south, east, and west- If I could see the Twin Towers I was looking east

The year I graduated college I worked summer stock so I didn’t actually leave my beautiful, green, sheltered little school until late August. Then I started my first grown up, out of college, real world, New York theatre job on September 5, 2001. 6 days later everything changed. I realized last April as I walked to Babeland for my  shop visit that pre-9/11 I loved the Village and the Lower East Side and after the attacks I didn’t go below 14th street for a long time. For the first time I allowed myself to fully acknowledge something that had been buzzing in the back of my mind for years, something that was always a little too scary to look directly at but that I had long been aware of-  much of my adult life has been shaped by stepping out of college and into the attack. So much of my life afterward was dictated by fear. When the towers fell I really did lose my sense of direction and I never really got it back. I had a moment right then of being devastated for the years I’ve lost to being afraid.

Then I realized that now, 12 years later, there’s a tower in lower Manhattan again. New York didn’t let fear keep it from building tall, from reaching high, from moving on. It may have taken over a decade for the skyline to recover from the attack but it will. I had been living under the assumption that if I was still affected this long after, I probably would be for life but, just this year, New York taught me that it’s never too late to stage your comeback.

New Jersey

We’ve talked before about how I surfed when I was growing up . My family has spent summers at the same Jersey Shore community for about 50 years. The happiest memories of my childhood all take place there. It’s where I ran whenever I would come back to Jersey and needed some time to connect, to recharge, to feel more like me. I went there when I knew my marriage was ending, I went there when I knew my father was dying, my last visit was right before my divorce was made final. As much as the place I actually grew up, Ocean Beach NJ was home.

Ocean Beach was hit pretty hard by Hurricane Sandy, whose path of destruction was erratic- (Ocean Beach sustained some destruction but it is nestled between Ortley Beach and Mantoloking which were both completely devastated.) I couldn’t stop looking at the pictures and videos of all the places I knew destroyed. My heart broke for the people, for the places, for the memories.

Strangely, it felt easier to leave the east coast after seeing what Hurricane Sandy did to the Jersey shore-  I didn’t really get it until I read a piece written by a Sandy Hook alum, something about seeing the place your grew up ravaged… it just put a finality on things. Like “Okay, marriage is over, Dad’s dead, seat of your childhood memories is destroyed. Let’s get out of here”

Last spring I had brunch with a bunch of extended family, one of whom lives at the shore and she talked about the rebuilding that was going on. How some folks were staying and some weren’t. How new building codes were changing the views and there was construction going on everywhere. After the storm Gov. Christie said “This summer won’t be like last summer” and he was right but in Jersey it seems folks are learning what it takes to stay, deciding if it’s worth it and doing the work they have to do to keep going.

A few weeks back a stretch of the Seaside Heights boardwalk that had been damaged in the storm and partially rebuilt burned down. On the news people were still talking about coming back, rebuilding, making it better. They were sad that it would never be the same again but as one man said “life goes on and I want something here for my kids”

New Jersey taught me that life might end up looking very different than you thought, part of survival is going with it.

Boston

I didn’t get to Boston until I was 28 years old but, in a lot of ways, it’s where I grew up. It’s where I was married and divorced, where I mourned the loss of my father and where the Bedhead was born. It was also where I got the job that would change who I was forever. It was supposed to be a job to fill the gap of time while I figured out what I wanted to do since I had stepped away from my career in theater. I was teaching yoga (because it was 2007 and that was, like, the rule) and I was hired by a brand new fitness studio at 867 Boylston Street. I never thought I would stay there for years or that it would completely change my life.

In my years at Life in Synergy, where I eventually became a personal trainer, I learned so much from my boss Helena and her husband Brian. I learned to get the hell out of my own way and be happy. I never would have had the strength to leave an unhappy marriage without that, I don’t know how I would have handled my father’s death without that and frankly, without that I doubt you would be reading this because I don’t think I ever would have started a blog. I grew up at 867 Boylston.

When the bombs went off on Boylston Street, one right next to the Starbucks I went to every day, I  couldn’t seem to tear myself away from the coverage. The familiar streets full of barricades and blood, the knowledge that on Marathon Mondays past I’ve been right there on that stretch of Boylston, the pride at seeing a man who was a fixture in my neighborhood being hailed for his (largely unsurprising) heroism. I cried constantly that week…

Then two days later they had a suspect. They shut the whole damn city down, stopped everything and got that man. Because that’s what Boston does – Boston doesn’t let it go. Ask Whitey Bulger and the Gardner Heist guys. Boston taught me to be tenacious. If anyone thinks they weakened the city of Boston, they couldn’t be more mistaken. Bostonians band together as much (if not more) in times of adversity than they do in times of joy. Boston taught me to keep going when stuff really sucks. Boston spent years as the underdog.  Boston knows how to thrive. Boston is scrappy. Boston grows out its beard, gets down to business and doesn’t give a fuck. Boston taught me to be a badass.

I don’t think there is anyone on earth who has never felt like they have had their ass handed to them by life and knowing that it’s never too late to recover, you can adapt and change and come back better and you can be a tenacious badass are worthwhile lessons for all of us and I am grateful all of my homes for having taught them to me.

Also, Go Sox!