A Love Story
I’m from Boston. Born and raised. I spent many Saturday afternoons with my family at Fenway, watching the Red Sox and eating Fenway Franks. Still the best hotdogs ever!
Lots of Sunday afternoons at Sullivan stadium, cheering on the Patriots—my team. Sometimes basking in the warmth of the sun, other days, wearing parkas, hats, gloves and wrapped in blankets but still freezing. The Garden holds memories, as well. Mostly Celtics games, but a sprinkling of Bruins, and the annual Bean Pot college hockey games between city rivals, BC, BU, Harvard, Tufts and others.
Spring and summer days, riding the Swan boats and picnics on the Common. Walking the Freedom Trail, countless times, but always learning something new about our rich history. Old Ironsides, Paul Revere’s home, The North Church.
I am lucky enough to have seen the entire city, into NH and miles of the Atlantic, from the tops of John Hancock Building, 66 State Street, and The Pru. Extraordinary.
I’ve ridden my bike on the Esplanade, watched The Boston Pops at the Hatchell on 4th of July’s, seen our glorious city skies lit up in all it’s splendor while on a boat in the Harbor, and sailed, rowed and skulled along The Charles.
Tea at the Ritz, clams on the half shell at Legal, lobsters at Pier 4, Fried clams at No-Name, the best Italian food at The Push Cart in the North End—bellied up to a bar at many a local watering hole with friends and colleagues alike. The Parker House Rolls? Of course, at The Parker House.
Eaten at Durgin Park with total strangers—who end up casual acquaintances after a meal shared together, family style. Danced and partied weekend nights at Daisy’s and other college joints in Kenmore Square.
Saturday afternoons in fall, Blue Chips lot at BC—tailgating with the silver and crystal. Sporting gold and maroon, and waving the signature scarfs in support of our Eagles.
Ridden the Blue Line, Orange Line, Green and Red Lines, as well. Harvard Square, Sullivan Square, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Comm Ave…know them intimately.
Celebrated Patriot’s Day watching the Marathon on Heartbreak Hill. Watching runners in some wild costumes complete a long and arduous run, and watching world class runners break records. Everyone offering encouragement and holding cups of water in hopes that a runner would swipe it from your hand as they passed by.
My city. I have a love affair with it like I have with no other place I ever have ever visited or resided in.
The bombings were insidious, disastrous, and plain evil. But they will never break the spirit of my city, and her people. Ever.