A Boston Latin high school classmate living in Madrid, wrote a blog if she could go to Boston for 24 hours what would she try and see.
This blog is how I would spend my 24 hours there. I left Boston in 1990. I left part of my heart. Or maybe I tucked part of the city into my heart. I love the city because:
- Different ethnic neighborhoods
- Gas lamps
- History
- Theaters
- Universities
- Emerald necklace
- Museums
- Restaurants
- Libraries
Seldom did I walk down the street without seeing something that made me go "ahhhhh."
If I had 24 hours to visit (during daylight) I would start at my flat on the Riverway and go to the house on Wigglesworth where I also lived at one time.
It was a handyman's nightmare when we bought it. We became friends with the neighbors, Kelley, Barbara, Dan, Hiram and more. Summer nights we would sit on the stoop. Early fall the new batch of students moved in many of which went to Harvard Medical across the street.
After walking through the Harvard Medical School grounds, I'd take the E line into the city, with a stop at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston Symphony and walk over to Copley Square and from there I'd walk to the Boston Gardens and Commons and take a ride of the swan boats. I'd walk the Freedom Trail, eat at the Quincy Market.
We had memberships at the Museum of Fine Arts. Often, we would hop off at the T stop and go in just to see a few paintings. Then we would walk home the rest of the way. They had a great kids' program.I walked my Japanese Chins, several different ones over the years here: Amadeus, Albert, Bebe, Vixen. There was a tree that Hippocrates was said to have sat under that didn't survive one exceptional bad winter.
Copley Square, home of the Boston Public Library, where I researched many a paper and what was once called the world's only plywood skyscraper.
I'd catch the Redline to Harvard Square where I'd mosey through the book stores.
Crossing the Salt and Pepper bridge (Longfellow). The T was the way to get around the city. It was living in Boston that made me realize that I never wanted to live in a city without public transport.
Friday nights were family nights when I had my two housemates. Along with them and my daughter we would eat in Harvard Square, listen to the street musicians and buy books for the week.It was our chance to catch up on our lives and plan the weekend.
Every brick seems to have a memory. I've shown Rick Boston. We've done the Freedom Trail. I wish I had the tourist tape I created for a client. We had actors and actresses playing the parts of real people and real events at each Freedom Trail stop.
I'm not homesick. My memories are my medicine against it. It was a wonderful period in my life.
There are those who know accents, who say I speak French with a Boston accent. It's a wicked accent from a wicked good city.
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