An Educational Day in Boston

A few weeks ago was my mom's annual trip to the East Coast.  This year I was able to meet her and her students for a short time--if only their trip hadn't been right before one of my final papers was due, I would have been able to stay with them for another day.  As it was, I was happy to see my mum, and I got to see some new and interesting things in Boston.

Too excited about seeing Mom to get much work done, I left on Monday afternoon, even though I knew they wouldn't be arriving at their hotel until 8 or 9 that night.  It rained the whole time I was on the turnpike, and there were plenty of people ignoring the new "wipers on, headlights on" law.  I ate pot roast in a diner somewhere around Quincy before heading on to the hotel; by that time it was getting dark, and, knowing that the destination was on a narrow peninsula, I had the distinct feeling that I was going to drive right off of the world and into the ocean.  That feeling wasn't lessened when I parked outside of the hotel, where, beyond the railing, the beach was invisible in the dark, but the white crests of the waves were moving out in the water.  It was also satisfying to think that the Bluebird had now gone almost completely from one coast to the other.

When they arrived and got settled in, Mom shared some chocolates she'd bought earlier that day at Ye Olde Pepper Candy Company in Salem.  The cordial cherry was especially delicious.

Tuesday started a bit gloomily, with somewhat foreboding weather.  That soon changed, though, and by the time we reached Boston (after a circuitous shuttle journey to the nearest T station and, for me, a big loop around Quincy attempting to find a place to park followed by a power-walk back to the station) the weather was practically perfect.  I'm sure the visitors may have thought it a little cool still, but I was comfortable walking around without a jacket for the first time in years a while.

The first stop we made was Fenway Park.  Though I'm by no means a baseball fan, I enjoyed visiting the park; it's part of American cultural life, and the tour revealed things most spectators there for a game wouldn't be able to see.  The tour took us through the stands and to the newest seats, behind the Green Monster in the outfield (from which the picture below was taken).  We were also able to go into the press box, the vantage point from which reporters watch the game.  The park as a whole struck me as fairly small for a major sports venue; unlike the one I'm most used to driving by back home, Fenway Park isn't surrounded by acres of parking lot, but by businesses.  The produce truck parked outside of a restaurant just outside of the park's gates added to the feel of the place and the sport as old-fashioned and part of the community, rather than just a commodified pastime. 

From there we made our way half a dozen subway stops and a few centuries back to the Old North Church.  On my previous visit, we'd gone into the sanctuary and heard a short presentation about the box pews, the organ, the clock, the angels, and of course the lanterns.  This time, though, we started by going into the tower.  Up the first flight of steps is a small room, all paneled in white-painted wood, lined on one wall with bookshelves and displaying a print of the church made (if I recall correctly) by Paul Revere, as well as two replica lanterns.  Then we ascended a second, even narrower and steeper staircase to the top of the brick portion of the tower; above is the wooden section that houses the bells.  The brick room is where the bell-ringers do their thing.  There, with the ropes looped overhead, safely out of reach from curious tourists, our guide told us about the bells and showed us a short video on how they're rung.  I liked the round windows, and the fact that they showed how thick the tower's walls are--they must be a good two feet of brick.  From the top of the church we descended to the bottom, to the basement crypt.  Portions of it are still used for internments today.  The first commander of the USS Constitution is buried there, as is Major John Pitcairn.  Walking through the crypt is a bit of a strange experience, as overhead you hear the creaking of floorboards from people in the church, the corridor is filled with pipes and bits of plaster are missing around some tombs, and, if you're taller than average, you have to do a lot of ducking.  We ended the tour inside the church, where I missed the opportunity to sit in the box Teddy Roosevelt sat in in 1912.

Since the marathon had been run the day before, the city was still dotted with people in brightly-colored jackets from the Athletic Association, or even with finishers' medals around their necks.  We saw the most of them between Old North Church and Quincy Market, where we ate lunch (expensive but filling calzones for Ma and me).  After our stop there we hurried to the Old South Meeting House, where the group had an appointment and where I left them.  I would rather have stayed than driven back to the west, but the only thing I dreaded more than the idea of leaving was the idea of leaving in rush hour traffic, so I said goodbye to my mother and went.  

By some fortuitous circumstance, my route from the Meeting House to the nearest T station took me by a graveyard.  It was across from a hotel and enclosed on three sides by tall buildings, some of which seemed to contain apartments--it hardly needs to be said that I would be thrilled to live somewhere overlooking a colonial cemetery--and I wasn't so pressed for time that I couldn't cruise through.  The plaque at the gates named it as the Granary Burying Ground, home to several leading personages in American history, including Benjamin Franklin's parents (theirs is the large while memorial in the center), the victims of the Boston Massacre, Samuel Adams, Mother Goose, Paul Revere, and John Hancock.  Many of the tombstones were well-carved and deeply, and are still quite legible for their age--if they're reproductions, then they're good ones.  I was glad to go, but I'll need to return to spend some more time there.

In Quincy I had a similar opportunity, since to get back to where I'd parked I had to pass Hancock Cemetery.  The Adams presidents and their wives were buried there, but have since been moved to the crypt of a nearby church.  Though smaller and less impressive than the Granary, and though nearby road construction detracted from the ambiance somewhat, Hancock was nice for a brief walk through, and, like the Granary, was graced with some strong carving.

While I wish I had been able to spend more time with Mom in Boston, I was glad to see for the little while I was there.  And we were blessed with good weather and safe travel, for which I was thankful.

In conclusion I'd just like to add that Blogspot has changed the way you can position photos in relation to text and I hate it.