RichardHowe.com – Voices from Lowell & Beyond

Nana

Nana

By Leo Racicot

Our beloved Nana. Her name was Adele but everybody called her Lena. My friend, David Bowles used to get a kick out of that. I still do. Nana was born in Alexandria, Egypt. As young girls, she and her twin sister, Mariam, emigrated to Paris where they both entered the convent. Mariam took her vows and Nana, realizing the religious life wasn’t for her, left Europe for America to Lowell where she met the man she would marry, Raef, a barber. They were to have four children, the youngest of whom was our mother, Edna (called Topsy). Even as a child, I found Nana so interesting, like no one else I knew in my young life; she spoke several languages which held her in good stead making her way in the melting pot that was Lowell in those days. (It’s still a melting pot but in different ways now). I credit my lifelong love of languages to her, sitting with her on our porch in summers, she, teaching me the foreign words she knew, having me repeat them, fine-tuning my pronunciation. I loved biking up to The Highlands, the section of the city she and our Aunt Marie, lived in, helping her in the kitchen, sitting beside her in the parlor, she, teaching me how to make carnations from pink tissue paper, telling me stories of “the old country”. I liked that she hailed from a place as exotic as Alexandria. I wanted so badly to know more about that ancient city and the life she’d led there. I used to seek out books about Alexandria, especially Lawrence Durrell’s The Alexandria Quartet, a masterful piece of storytelling if ever there was one, much more satisfying than Proust, in my opinion. She talked less to me about Paris though one time, at her home, she asked me if I’d like to see a photo of her twin. She took me into her darkened bedroom, opened a bureau drawer, opened the lid of a box and took out a photo of a dead nun laid out in her casket! I had nightmares for a week. I honestly think had I not come of age in her kind, gentle light, I might have turned out to be a serial killer or some such, so frightening and twisted were the other aspects of my young life. In a poem, I once wrote were the lines: If I was a boat that might drift out to sea, Nana was the harbor that waited for me.

She died in the year of the Bicentennial a couple of days after her Patriots Day birthday at the age of 88. I wouldn’t attend her services; it was too painful seeing the lid close on her life, a life I saw as a testament to her accepting, uncomplaining grace.

____________________

Nana on the porch

Nana and Leo (the author)

Seen & Heard: Vol. 16

Museum Visit: Massachusetts Historical Society – Last Friday I had an early appointment in Boston so when that was finished, I went to the Massachusetts Historical Society at 1154 Boylston Street which is not far from the Prudential Center. I’ve long been aware of the organization but had never visited its headquarters. My purpose for going now was to see an exhibit called “1776: Declaring Independence” which was excellent. The highlight was various copies of the Declaration of Independence including hand-written versions created by the hands of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson for their own use, and an early version of the Declaration – Jefferson’s first draft – which proposed the abolition of slavery. The committee overseeing the draft wanted nothing to do with that and forced it to be removed from the final version. My favorite artifact on display was a small brass cannon which had been used by US troops at the Battle of New Orleans during the War of 1812. The cannon had found its way after the war to the Manchester-By-The-Sea home of William Saltonstall. Originally displayed in the Saltonstall living room, the family began dragging it outside and used it to fire wooden croquet balls into the Atlantic Ocean. When Mass Historic eventually came into possession of it, several of the balls were stuck inside the gun. The sign next to this artifact quotes one of the Saltonstalls as saying, “Every historical society should have a cannon” which is a noble sentiment. The Massachusetts Historical Society is at 1154 Boylston Street in Boston and is open at various times – check its website for those – for viewing of the exhibit. Entry is free although you have to get buzzed in by the receptionist.  

Book Review: Battle Green Vietnam: The 1971 March on Concord, Lexington, and Boston by Elise Lemire (2021). This is a fascinating account of a protest action over Memorial Day weekend in 1971 by local chapters of Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW). Lemire, a Professor of Literature at Purchase College, State University of New York (SUNY) with family ties to Lowell, interviewed many of the people involved including veterans, local residents, and public officials. This yields a compelling story for anyone interested in the Vietnam War but also for people involved in local government or in participating in collective protests. Memorial Day in 1971 was the first to occur after Congress passed Monday Holiday legislation. Taking advantage of the three day weekend, the VVAW framed themselves as the progeny of the American colonists who fought the British in 1775. The three-day action began at North Bridge in Concord on Friday where the veterans stayed overnight. On Saturday, they marched in patrol formation to Lexington’s Battle Green intending to stay the night there. While the National Park Service had given wink-and-nod permission at North Bridge – “you can’t camp there but if you stay all night, we’re not going to bother you” – Lexington Green was under the jurisdiction of the Lexington Board of Selectmen and they drew a line in the sand against an overnight stay. Understanding that non-violent confrontation would yield more attention to their cause than strict compliance with the rules, the veterans remained on the Green all night, or at least until two busloads of police arrived and arrested several hundred veterans and their supporters. The police chief, in his interview with the author, stressed that he ordered his officers not to resort to violence in conducting the arrests. This was consistent with the attitude of the veterans who saw the arrests as a positive development. All prisoners were transported to the town DPW garage where they were held for the rest of the night. Then, in a special Sunday session at the Concord District Court, the judge dismissed for all defendants the misdemeanor disorderly conduct charges and imposed a $5 fine for trespassing. The hundreds of supporters outside the court took up a collection and paid the fines. Supporters then car-pooled the veterans to Charlestown where they marched to the Bunker Hill Monument to spend Sunday night. They were not surprised that the more liberal and affluent suburbanites of Concord and Lexington had supported their cause, but were concerned that working class Charlestown which had contributed many young men to the Vietnam War would have a different response. However, the response there was quite positive which may have reflected eroding support for the war. After spending a peaceful night at Bunker Hill, the veterans marched to Boston Common for some closing ceremonies. 

Obituary: “Norman Bussel, 102, Who Helped Explain Veterans’ Trauma, Dies” by Clay Risen in The New York Times – In April 1944, Bussel was a 19-year old crew member on a B-17 heavy bomber based in England. On his third mission over Germany, his plane was shot down by antiaircraft fire and he became a POW. He was held in atrocious conditions but survived the war, but afterwards carried with him nightmares, claustrophobia and survivor guilt which led him to alcoholism. After many painful years, he began communicating with other former POWs and realized their experiences were alike. This led him to write about his experience and become an advocate of others, with his efforts contributing to the recognition of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a serious condition. Back to 1944, while Bussel made it out of the B-17, not everyone did. One crew member who perished in the crash was 24 year old Vasilios Mpourles who lived at 70 West Fifth Street in Lowell with his widowed father and three brothers. His father was born in Greece and worked in a cotton mill while Vasilios drove a milk truck before joining the service. He is buried in Lorraine American Cemetery in France. 

Newspaper Article: “At 94, a Champion with 935 Victories Seeks No Validation” by Jason Quick in The Athletic – This story, about former NBA coach Dick Motta, is not an obituary. Instead, it was prompted by the failure of the NBA to select Motta for its Hall of Fame this year. This leaves Motta as the coach with the most career victories to not be in the Hall. I don’t recall hearing Motta’s name or thinking of him for 30 years, but seeing this story triggered some good memories about my youthful enjoyment of the National Basketball Association in the 1970s. Motta’s first pro coaching job was in 1968 with the Chicago Bulls. He won the NBA championship with the Washington Bullets in 1978, then finished up with several other teams before retiring in 1997 with the Denver Nuggets. Now, Motta lives in Idaho (he’s a native of Utah) and is the primary caregiver of his wife of 70 years who has dementia. He told the reporter he is not bitter about the Hall snub, but his comments suggest otherwise. The article was most poignant when Motta recalled that all five starters from the 1978 championship team are deceased as is the star of Motta’s first team, which won a high school championship. I began the article to revive memories of Celtic glory days with John Havlicek, Dave Cowens, Jo Jo White, and others, but finished it with a reminder of how quickly life passes.

Newspaper Nooks and Crannies

Newspaper Nooks and Crannies – (PIP #103)

By Louise Peloquin

To add and to end with the March 24^th topic, a few more phrases from L’Etoile’s nooks and crannies. (1)

• A grandiose coquette is the woman who states that she is not so. (January 23, 1926)
• The mind searches; the heart finds. ( January 9, 1926)
• There would be more January poets if there were more romantic words to rhyme with “slush.” (January 2, 1926)
• From time to time, our old souls need to live with the memories of childhood. (January 8, 1926)
• No disgust, no discouragement, if you fail, recommence. – Marcus Aurelius (March 1, 1926)
• Examine your promise well. Is it just? Can you honor it? A promise must not be retracted. – Chinese proverb (March 1, 1926)
• You moan about your misfortunes. If you considered what others suffer, you would complain quietly. – Chilion (March 1, 1926)
• One’s entire life is made up of the past since everything dies and falls into it. It is the marvelous survival of that which, despite us, has fled. – J. Mortal (March 1, 1926)
• The real way to know nothing is to learn everything simultaneouly. – Georges Sand (January 4, 1926)

To end with a smile, a last newspaper space-filler.

•  “How old do you think I am?”
• “Twenty at the very most.”
• “Oh my, how sweet you are!”
• “Aren’t I? When a woman asks me her age I always respond half of what I think.” (March 2, 1926)

(2)

****

1. Spaces for Wise Phrases – PIP #101: https://richardhowe.com/2026/03/24/spaces-for-wise-phrases/
2. Translations by Louise Peloquin.

Some thoughs on the Marathon Bombing (2013 repost)

With today being the annual running of the Boston Marathon, my thoughts drifted back to that event in 2013 when terrorism injected itself into the iconic sporting event. Most are familiar with what happened, but this post, which I wrote on April 22, 2013, provides many details and a feel of what it was like at the time, to me at least . . . 

With the past week’s tragic and dramatic events now a part of history, life in Lowell can start edging back to normal. The primary for the special election for the U.S. Senate is a week away (Tuesday, April 30) and conflict at the city council meeting will grab center stage for some. During the crisis, I found it hard to write blog posts: things unrelated to the bombing seemed trivial and things about the bombing were coming in overwhelming waves from other sources. Best to stay silent. Before moving on, however, I wanted to post some observations from the week past, more for archival purposes than anything else.

News of the Boston Marathon bombing arrived at 3 pm last Monday, Patriot’s Day. More than a decade after 9/11, my first reaction when told there had been an explosion at the Marathon wasn’t “terrorist attack” although that reality set in quickly enough. The death toll was quickly set at 3 and the injured at 50. My expectation was that the former number would creep upwards but it did not (from bomb injuries, at least). But the number of wounded did rise with the final figure around 170. Given the packed surroundings, it is amazing more were not killed by the two explosions, but that is attributable to the construction of the bombs (at ground level, they propelled shrapnel outward not upward, causing massive injuries to legs but few to vital organs) and the instant availability of top quality medical care at the nearby marathon runners’ tent.

As is often the case, connections to Lowell were soon established. The photo of a gravely injured Lowell High student being treated by two bystanders dominated the Tuesday front pages of both the Boston Globe and the New York Times. A surprising number of the injured were from Greater Lowell or had close ties to this area, and there was Ed Davis, a calm, authoritative voice throughout the crisis as Boston’s police commissioner.

Wednesday was spent reading of the victims, of those who responded to them first, and speculation about who had done it. One website had pre-explosion crowd photos with every isolated male with a backpack annotated as the possible terrorist. (As someone who routinely carries a backpack, I found this crowd sourcing exercise a bit creepy and while possibly of some assistance, also a source of potential harm to the reputations of many innocent bystanders).

Thursday was the interfaith memorial service featuring President Obama. As is so often the case (in my view) his public remarks struck the right note of comfort to the injured, defiance to the perpetrators, and inspiration to everyone else. After the service the President visited victims hospitalized at Mass General.

Throughout the day on Thursday, the media spread the word that the FBI had photos of the bombers and would be releasing them to the public soon. That happened in the late afternoon: it was a video loop of two men striding relaxed but purposely down the sidewalk in column, the first with a black baseball cap and a black backpack squarely strapped to both shoulders (Suspect #1), the second with a white ballcap worn backwards, with a grayish colored pack slung casually over his right shoulder. Still photos were grainy but good enough to be recognized. I went to bed at about 10:30 p.m. with no further news.

Waking up early on Friday (4:30 a.m.), I immediately glanced at my phone for overnight news. Two emails from my son Andrew who now lives near Harvard Square in Cambridge immediately grabbed my attention. The first was at 11:41 p.m.: “There was just a shooting near MIT. Some injuries. No threat here.” The second at 2:06 a.m.: “I’m sure you’ll see all the details when you wake up. Eventful night. They’re not done sweeping the area of Watertown, but it’s a lot less chaotic than it was. I think I’ll be going to bed soon.” The first thing that popped up on my computer was Facebook. I locked onto Andrew’s feed: “There was a shooting around MIT. Then there was a car hijacked in Central. Pursued by police. I heard sirens then turned the police radio on. I heard explosion and gunshots in the distance from my room…they’re now saying grenades and automatic gunfire in Watertown. Second officer down.”

News came rapidly after that from the TV and the computer. The Marathon bombers had been identified as two brothers from Cambridge. One of them was now dead, the other on the run. The news Friday morning was that they had ambushed and killed an MIT police officer, robbed a 7-11 (an erroneous report), hijacked a car and been stopped by police in Watertown where a massive firefight ensued. An MBTA police officer had been badly wounded in the gunfight, one of the terrorists (Suspect 1) had been killed, and Suspect 2 had escaped.

By 6:30 a.m., Governor Patrick had shut down the entire MBTA and the communities of Watertown, Cambridge, Newton, and several others were all locked down which meant people were to remain at home and business were not to open while a massive manhunt was conducted. Within minutes, the lockdown was extended to the entire city of Boston. Here in Lowell, the work day continued uneventfully, but all eyes and ears were trained on whatever “breaking news” source was available. An Amtrak train in Norwalk, Connecticut had been evacuated and a bomb squad in Buffalo was searching a car with Massachusetts plates. But nothing really came of it.

Twelve hours later, exhausted and disheartened elected officials and police announced at a press conference that the suspect continued to elude them but that the lockdown was lifted and the MBTA was back in business. With that announcement, the local TV news morphed into Diane Sawyer and the national news, something I hadn’t watched in months. She broke for a commercial at 6:50 p.m. but when the commercial ended, the local news anchors on channel 5 were back on screen, telling of breaking news in Watertown. Suspect #2 had been located hiding in a boat stored in a yard just outside the day’s search perimeter. Gunfire broke out and then faded. Wave after wave of police of all types arrived. At 9:00 p.m., they announced that Suspect #2 had been captured, alive but badly wounded.

Since then and continuing has been a mix of stories about the terrorists and their motivations and actions and other stories about the victims, their funerals and their recoveries. For most of us, returning to work today will be a chance to share accounts of consuming the news of Friday night and sharing nuggets of information picked up over the weekend. I suspect that those involved in K-12 education who are just returning from a week of vacation will have a different experience. With the news profiles of the younger terrorist all reporting that he was a fine student, an excellent athlete, a good friend and many other superlatives, those who work with and educate young people must be struggling with the question of what makes someone who by all appearances was a “good kid” morph into a murdering terrorist and how can that transition be identified, diverted and derailed?