A new home, a new address, a new life.
New Roommate
Ping
Ping. She arrived at the Costco parking lot in Newington CT from Texas, late at night on August 23. The cheek swab says she is 67.3% Shih Tzu, 19.5% Lhasa Apso, and 13.2% small Poodle. A “shapsoodle.” I named her for the strayed duckling in Marjorie Flack’s 1933 classic, The Story about Ping. She weighs about 12 pounds, yet sounds like a hippo thundering up the stairs. We’ve been attending classes with Coach Leah at the Animal Rescue League of Boston, which, coincidentally, is about three blocks down the street from my brother Tim’s place. Having graduated from Foundations levels one and two, we commence “Agility for Fun Level 1” soon. Overall Ping is a bundle of pernicious cuteness: the neighbors are all gaga and she knows how to use those intense, umber orbs to her advantage.
East Boston
East Boston is a new locale for me. I had lived in Cambridge, Belmont, Watertown, and Mission Hill at various points in the past. Ma lived on Lawrence Street in the South End for a few years. Eastie was this very Italian, slightly forbidding place, at least back in the 70s and early 80s. Spanish is the most common language now, and legions of dogs walk their parents everywhere. In the warmer months, folks congregate on stoops or drag chairs out to the street corners.
Living Local
Bodegas are everywhere if supplies run short. Maria has a little salon about three blocks away and trims my hair. The Quiet Few down the street is a most excellent watering hole, specializing in bourbons and whiskeys; across Sumner Street are the A&L Bakery, and Vine & Barley, a small liquor store. At least a dozen delis, restaurants, and food trucks are within half a mile.
The Maverick Square stop on the Blue Line is about a six minute walk away, the ferry from Lewis Wharf to Long Wharf downtown about the same, and I can amble over to Logan Airport if I want to. There are small benefits to my new zip code, too. My E-ZPass has a discount on the tolls through the tunnels; Massport offers locals an access card for the back gate into the airport. A parking space came with my new home, so while car insurance and registration cost an arm and a leg, I have the convenience of wheels should I want them. The Big Boxes—Market Basket, Home Depot, Best Buys, Total Wine & More, Target, PetSmart, etc.—are clustered in Chelsea and Everett just a few minutes to the north. I also use the quiet little Motor Vehicles office in Revere rather than battle the hordes in Boston.
Boston Harbor
downtown Boston from East Boston ferry
Living on Boston Harbor is wonderful. In the 19th century, Border Street was the epicenter of the ship-building industry. Immigrants disembarked along Marginal Street well into the 20th century. Goods coming and going piled up on all the wharves. Sultry summer evenings, I stroll the few blocks to Piers Park and head down the brick walkway under lush foliage to the benches near the Donald McKay Memorial. The view—breathtaking at any time and in any weather—spans 180 degrees across the water. Bunker Hill Monument and the Zakim Bridge in Chelsea mark the west. On the opposite shore, the spire of the Old North Church always catches the light. Further along to the south is the Customs House Tower and the Seaport District. Planes arrive and depart at Logan Airport in the east. No matter how sticky the heat, there is always a breeze.
Stuff To Do
a Webster Street door
Halloween is legendary. A block of Webster Street is closed to vehicles; residents go bananas with costumes and décor. Trick-or-treating is officially from four to eight; I set my jack-o-lantern by our door and brought a chair and my candy downstairs. A young woman said she had just moved to Somerville from Eastie but was back for the party. When our crowds abated, Ping and I headed over.
It takes a while to really get settled. I am not quite there yet and I miss Dan terribly. At least old friends and family are back in reach. Dinner at a restaurant with cousin David Cutler and his family last spring led to his daughter Helen and her boyfriend Greg being the first dinner guests chez-moi. Tim invited me one morning to join him for exceptional blueberry pancakes. Ping and I also celebrated Thanksgiving with him and Jane. My niece Stefanie Stiver and I have tickets for The Nutcracker Suite in December. It’s one of my favorite seasonal traditions. In October, Ping and I drove up to Kittery Point, Maine, for an overnight with my sister-in-law Emily and her husband David DeLuca that included a tour of the area, a glass (or three) of good wine, and David’s fantastic pasta with sausage and red sauce.
In August I caught a performance at Passim in Harvard Square by Paul Rishell and Annie Raines. Blues guitar and harmonica, wonderful stories. Back in 1971, I moved into the room Paul was vacating in a rowhouse in East Cambridge called “Linwood Place.” I joined them for supper and a reminisce a few days ago. So much laughing. What an extraordinary thing it is to rediscover people from so long ago and find the connection solid.
Getting In and Out
My son Jay and his girlfriend Megan came up from Maryland for a little vacation in Salem, MA, and stopped in for a visit and lunch at D’Parma. So did my great pal from Emma Willard School, Anja Carr, who took me on a cruise for women veterans aboard “Old Ironsides,” the USS Constitution. I discovered D’Parma when cousin Jennifer Giles Adams had a long stopover at Logan on route to her mom’s in Bangor ME; it’s now my go-to for guests.
But, Why?
I certainly considered that moving back to Boston after—what—forty years elsewhere—might be an act of sentimentality and dotage. What I loved about living in the Boston-Cambridge area when I was four years old or sixteen or on my thirtieth birthday, though, is what I feel in my eighth decade. Okay, the traffic in the tunnels, on the Mass Pike and the arteries heading north and south is a total horror show, and the cost of real estate leaves one gasping, but the atmosphere, the people, and the public transportation haven’t really changed. Actually the T has gotten better. And I get a cheap senior’s Charlie Card!
Pulling from the Past, Preparing for the Future
As I am back here in New England, I cannot help but be in a Robert Frost frame of mind. He always manages to find the ephemeral and profound when I need a thought.
Dust of Snow (1923) by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
We all know changes are coming in 2025. May we hold tight, stand fast, and do the right things as best we can.
Happy Holidays!