As I filmed short videos a few weeks ago for remote Memorial Day ceremonies, I talked about how I hoped we would look back at this Memorial Day, which came while we were in the grip of a pandemic, and see it as the time when elected officials put politics aside, and as a time when all of us came together as a Nation and truly honored those that had paid the ultimate sacrifice for our country. After filming those videos, those messages of hope, I heard the Majority Leader of

Last week the Majority Leader of the United States Senate, Mitch McConnell, said that President Obama “should’ve kept his mouth shut,” and that he was “classless” in speaking out. President Trump tweeted that Mitt Romney, a United States Senator, former Governor of Massachusetts, and former Republican presidential nominee, was a “LOSER!”. Speaker of the United States House of Representatives, Nancy Pelosi, called President Trump, “morbidly obese,” knowing it would bother him.

I wrote the below after walking through Boston seven years ago, two days after the Boston Marathon bombings. I walked through Boston a couple of weeks ago late one evening, escaping the constant news of the coronavirus. Finding myself all alone on the streets of the City was eerie, but as I walked I felt the same sense of hope and pride in the people of Boston, and in those all across the Commonwealth, as I had seven years ago. “My Boston” 4/17/13 I have held back from speaki

It was Friday evening, the sun had gone down, and the streets were quiet. Too tired to nap after hours of travel, I took a walk, finding the Old City, set within the high walls of centuries of stone and struggle. Not knowing exactly where I was going, I came to a square and then an entrance, dark and drawing. Inside was a dimly lit small structure, adorned like an altar, church-like as it reached to the ceiling. I joined the nearby short line, and while waiting looked up over

And He Danced Again. I welcomed 2020 at the Kara Tepe Refugee Camp in Moria, on the island of Lesbos, in Greece, within eye’s sight of Turkey. I was in a yurt with other volunteers from Movement on the Ground, and with residents of the Camp. I remembered the previous New Year’s Eve, when I had joined volunteers and residents at Kara Tepe to cook a makeshift soup. I remembered a young man who danced in the cramped kitchen with his friends, and danced later in the yurt as the N

I am not exactly sure what it’s called. I am not even sure how to spell it. My wife calls it a shmuta. In our family, it is the satin-like edge to a childhood blanket, worn from years of being twisted by and run between the fingers of one of my sons. I remember once vacuuming my son’s room, sucking up a piece of cloth from under his bed. It was one of his shmutas. I unwound it from the vacuum head, and put the dirty thing in the barrel, later that night telling my son what ha

Three Kings Three Kings of the Hill, The Olive Grove, Moria Refugee Camp, Lesbos, Greece, January 2020 The dump truck raised its bed, and clean, bright gray gravel spilled into a pile below. The driver lowered the dump bed and drove away. Then they came. Young boys, anxious to climb on the stones, but holding back after being told “no.” Three boys especially eyed the pile of stones. I could tell right away that the smallest was, as my mother would say, “full of it.” “It” bein

I had just finished a 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning census of residents, the last task of my two weeks volunteering at Moria Refugee Camp on the Island of Lesbos, Greece. I paused to take a picture looking out over Zone 6 of the camp, as the sun was first climbing into the sky. It was a beautiful sight. How could there be such a view, I wondered, in a place so often referred to as “Hell on Earth”, the worst refugee camp in the world? I turned to climb the steps and walk away fro

About a year ago I posted the following about a rainy day in the Moria Refugee Camp on the island of Lesbos, Greece: “When the rain let up a bit, we started again distributing the thermal underwear. As I walked up a hill, to my left, I noticed a young woman peeking through the opening of her tent. She cradled a young baby in her arms, and the baby looked like he was breastfeeding. A moment later she raised the baby’s head in her arms, and you could see his round face and big

Dear Friends, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with family and friends, and that your New Year is off to a great start. As we kick of 2020, I wanted to give you a glimpse into what we accomplished in 2019, and a preview of some of the work we have planned for the New Year. In this newsletter, you will read about legislation we passed in 2019 at the State House, ongoing transit improvements planned for 2020, substance use legislation we plan to address this upcomi

BOSTON –Wednesday evening, the Massachusetts Senate passed landmark legislation to reduce youth access to tobacco and nicotine products....

Abington, Braintree, Holbrook, Quincy and Rockland will see increases in local funding over the next seven years BOSTON – On Thursday,...

Whether he is commuting to and from the State House, meeting with constituents in the district, or traveling with his wife and three boys, Senator Keenan always has his camera ready. To see pictures and to check out more photos, follow @senjohnfkeenan on Instagram.

Keenan has filed a bill to limit the sale of flavored tobacco products to adult-only smoking bars HOLBROOK, MA – On Tuesday, March 5,...

Appointed Chair of Post Audit and Oversight, Reappointed Vice-chair of Mental Health, Substance Use and Recovery BOSTON, MA – Committee...

January 2, 2019 After a long day in the Moria Refugee Camp on Lesvos, our group went for dinner at a restaurant in Mytilene. It’s owned by a Syrian refugee who spent time in the Moria Camp. After months, he was able to travel in Greece, and ultimately could have gone to France. He chose to stay on Lesvos and open his Syrian restaurant, the first on the island. He was a doctor in Syria, and his wife and children are still there. After dinner, we were joined by two young men in

I have spent the last week on the island of Lesvos, Greece, working in the Moria and Kara Tepe refugee camps. Below are some reflections and thoughts. Monday, December 31, 2019 We cooked and we danced. As we cooked together, the meal preparation was interrupted several times by spontaneous dance to the Arabic music playing in the narrow, crowded community kitchen. As I helped cleanup, the resident who had spent so much time peeling potatoes and cooking french fries in a pan b

It had been a while since I walked the streets of Mass Ave. and Melnea Cass Boulevard, the area seen by many as the face of the opioid epidemic in Boston. With recent reports that overdoses and overdose deaths are dropping, I was hoping, but not really expecting, to see visible changes on the streets. There are signs of hope. As I linger near the methadone clinic on Topeka Street, people on bikes pedal furiously, cars arrive quickly, and a young man runs down the street to ge

Dear friends: Thank you for reaching out about the many projects planned for the Red Line over the next few years. At the outset, I apologize for the length of my response, but I feel it is important to express my thoughts, concerns, and hopes for these projects. The Past – A Neglected Red Line Since first extended to Quincy and Braintree over 40 years ago, the condition of much of the Red Line’s infrastructure has steadily deteriorated. Stations and garages have been neglect

My father passed away back in 2013. Today he would have turned 91. He was a newspaper mailer who worked at the Boston Herald. Shortly after he died, the demolition of the Herald building, sandwiched between Harrison Ave and the Expressway, began in earnest, to give way to a mixed use development that now buffers the South End from the noise and sight of the trucks and cars coming and going from the downtown. Each day, as I drive by the site of the Herald, now home to Whole Fo