Calm Before Me

Reflecting on Dever’s Digitizing Day: A Legacy Etched in Iron The intersection of Mt. Vernon Street and it felt a little heavier—and a lot more meaningful—on March 26th. As the community gathered for Dever’s Digitizing Day , the atmosphere wasn't just about a school closing; it was about ensuring that decades of history didn’t simply vanish when the doors locked for the last time. The highlight of the event was the unveiling of the new street sign, a permanent marker for the Paul A. Dever Elementary School . For those who have walked those halls, the sign is more than a navigational tool; it is a testament to the generations of families who were shaped by the "bricks and mortar" on Columbia Point. A Voice from the Community During the ceremony, the personal weight of this milestone was captured in the dedication speech: "It’s an honor to be here for Dever’s Digitizing Day and the unveiling of the street sign. They say all roads lead through the Dever, and for my fami...

Recovery, Resilience, and the Power of Community I wanted to share an update on how things have been going since my surgery just under a week ago. For the first few days, I felt like I was on the right track, but things took a turn Friday evening. I ended up in the ER with a suspected blood clot. A Health Update I am so thankful that the clot they found was small. Interestingly, the ER focused on a chest CT rather than imaging my leg. While that ruled out a major Pulmonary Embolism (PE), the scan did show something unexpected with my 5th and 6th ribs—likely an echo from a past issue that I’ll need to keep an eye on. My blood levels were also quite a bit "off," showing that both my HE and Hemolytic Anemia are active right now. My next step is getting back in with the blood specialist to get those levels stabilized. As for the surgical site, I had my one-week post-op checkup. Most of the incisions are healing well, though two spots are being a bit stubborn—one is still bleeding...

  For decades, the ritual has been the same. Every spring, a thick binder of budget projections is laid on a mahogany table at a School Committee meeting. Numbers are crunched, “efficiencies” are identified, and “difficult choices” are lamented. But outside those meeting rooms, in the hallways of Brighton High and the classrooms of the Curley K-8, those "choices" have a different name: Loss. As we move through 2026, the Boston Public Schools (BPS) budget is once again under the knife. With a projected $53 million deficit and the looming threat of 400 staff layoffs , we are told this is a matter of "enrollment declines." But let’s be clear: Every dollar cut from our schools is a withdrawal from the potential of a Boston child. Our students, our teachers, and our communities have suffered long enough. It has to stop. The Human Cost of "Hard Decisions" When the district talks about cutting 400 positions—including over 260 classroom teachers and 160 paraprof...

  Beyond the Noise: Why My Choice to Stay is Mine Alone Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of opinions floating around about my life—specifically about who I choose to keep in it. It’s funny how people who only see a fraction of your story feel qualified to write the chapters for you. But after much reflection, I’ve realized that I don’t need a jury to validate my personal decisions. I am choosing peace, and for me, that peace includes maintaining a deep, supportive friendship with someone many expected me to leave behind. The Power of the Second Chance We live in a culture that tells us to "burn bridges" the moment things get complicated. While that works for some, I’ve learned that life isn't always black and white. Yes, mistakes happened. There were hurdles and heartaches that we both had to navigate. But I’ve also learned that growth doesn’t always mean walking away; sometimes, it means walking toward a different kind of connection. Accepting a "second chance" at fr...

  The Brave Face: A Lifetime at the Dever and the Fight for Our Future This coming week is, in a word, heavy . My calendar is a blur of City Council chambers, school hallways, and pre-op appointments. But as I look at the schedule, I realize every single one of these moments is connected by a single thread: the choice to show up, even when the weight feels impossible to carry. A Lifetime at the Dever: "All Roads Lead Through Here" This week carries a special kind of weight as I head to the Dever to go over photos for the website. This isn’t just a school to me; it is my second home. For nearly 70 years, these halls have been a sanctuary for generations. I am forever grateful for my journey here—first as a student, then as a parent, and lastly as an advocate. But the clock is ticking. On June 30th, 2026, I will take my last steps in those halls, and the final bell will ring on a place that has been a home to so many. It breaks my heart, but I know one thing for certain: no ma...

  Imagine waking up to find that a dear friend—someone you’ve been supporting through their hardest moments—has been moved 90 miles away without a single phone call to you or their partner. This isn't a hypothetical. This is the reality currently facing a close friend of mine and his partner right here in Massachusetts. The Betrayal of Care: From Neglect to a "Quiet" Exile My friend was in the Emergency Department on Monday, March 2nd . During that time, we were explicitly told there would be an evaluation and that no decisions would be made until that process was complete. He felt safe and comfortable; he trusted the team there to help him stabilize. Instead, the hospital moved him in silence. On Tuesday, March 3rd, at 10:00 AM , they loaded him into an ambulance and sent him 90 miles across the state while we were still waiting for the promised update. There was no phone call. There was no consultation. In fact, the lack of communication was so total that his partner ar...