On the third I watched the marathon go by a block from my house. I took the baby out to see the marathoners, and as they came by, I thought about how they each had a particular story of training and possibly of traveling to New York, or at least preparing to be at the appropriate place on the morning of the marathon, and, then, of running. Some people had their first names or the names of their countries of origin written on their shirts. A woman near me shouted out encouragement to the runners with names on their shirts, which I guess was the point. "Come on, Gary! Way to go, Gary, whooooo." That made me tear up again. I pointed out the different nationalities to the baby, "Look, bubby, France! Denmark! Look, a whole group of Italians." The baby looked, scowled, then reached up and pulled off his hat.