Some "Light" for Boston

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Because I believe the truth of this statement by Martin Luther King Jr, and because I believe in the healing power of words, here's a small offering about a city I love.

Boston Memory 1

I learned to drive in Massachusetts. My dad insisted I learn on a stick shift - a navy blue Cherokee jeep. I shed tears and cursed under my breath (still loud enough that I'm sure my dad heard but chose to ignore) as I stalled at entrances to rotaries (round-abouts) again and again. But a triumph came the day I drove for the first time to the Braintree T station. I parked the car and purchased my T tokens for downtown Boston. I bought two extra T tokens that day so I could wear them in my shiny cordovan-brown penny loafers. I thought I was very cool.

Boston Memory 2

I went on a first date with Chip Oscarson to a small North End restaurant called La Famiglia. I wore an over-sized sweater. But even with the sweater, I shivered as we waited outside in the cool Fall air to be seated. Once inside, I immediately warmed up. The portions were huge. A steaming platter (think king-sized) heaped with pasta took up more than half of our little table. The smell of garlic. The candle-light. The cramped restaurant bustling with waiters and patrons. I fell in love that night. Not with Chip (though I was quite smitten with him), but with Boston.

Boston Memory 3

I saw my first "Broadway" musical in Boston.  My Dad had heard good things about some "new musical" and he bought tickets for us. I invited my friend, Katie McDonald, to join us. We parked at Braintree station, took the T into Boston, and found ourselves sitting in the top balcony (almost the last row). I remember feeling like my knees were in my face because I was so cramped. We knew absolutely nothing about the plot of this new musical, but I was very excited. During the final scene of "Les Miserable," I sobbed like a baby - blubbering so loudly that a little white-haired lady turned around and patted my knee. "It's just a story, dear," she comforted. Who would have guessed that my first musical would still be my most favorite?

Boston Memory 4

Christmas in Boston. One Christmas, my parents suggested we have less presents under the tree and use the money to spend a couple nights in Boston. It was cold. I wore an ankle-length green coat with brass buttons as we walked the snow-filled streets. The Boston Commons were a winter-wonderland. The swan-boats parked at the dock wore a blanket of white as they seemed to nap in their winter repose. We watched the newly released "Beauty and the Beast" in a movie theater. We sipped steaming hot chocolate at Fanueil Hall and dined on bacon-wrapped scallops from our favorite seafood stall on the second floor.

 

Boston Memory 5

My Dad let me play hooky from school one wet spring day. We drove into Boston to a small bookstore where Robert Bateman, a Canadian Painter, was signing prints. My Dad had discovered Robert Bateman's work when we lived in Alaska and had collected many of his prints. It was thrilling to talk to this man whose art decorated the walls of our home. He signed his "Dark Wolf" poster for me, writing "Keep Singing, Holly."

There was something special about that day beyond meeting Robert Bateman. Perhaps it was the "stolen" feel to the day - the day was more valuable because we had robbed school and work time. Perhaps it was Boston-itself with the lights, smells, and sounds of this thriving city. Or perhaps it more simple, perhaps it was just being with my Dad in a place we both loved. 

Boston holds many more memories for me. Family shopping trips, school trips to MIT, choir trips to the Boston Conservatory, and our senior week trip with good friends, Shelley, Glen, and Brad. Both my Dad and sister, Katie, have run the Boston Marathon.

Even though I live on the other side of the world and it's been decades since I've lived in Massachusetts, this week my heart is in Boston.