Joel, Monica, and I took in a Red Sox game against the Orioles tonight, a losing effort for the Sox but a nice evening in Fenway for us nonetheless. Since I find baseball a bit slow, I entertained myself by focusing on other sources of action, such as drunk fans getting thrown out by security and peanut vendors, like the one in this photo, chucking their wares with impressive skill.
As the rements of hurricane Ivan soaked Boston for most the day on Saturday, Joel and I decided to spend a lazy day around the house, resting up for a week of siteseeing. To prepare for our trip to Cape Ann today, we watched The Perfect Storm last night, a prerequisite that neither of us had seen and which we felt would get us in the spirit to hang out in Gloucester. One of the first things we did on our drive around Cape Ann today was to visit the Fisherman’s Memorial and view the Wall of Remembrance, which lists the names of over 5000 Gloucesterman who have lost their lives at sea since 1623.
While wandering down one of the back streets of Bearskin Neck, Rockport, I ran across this sign guarding someone’s parking space. Not only is it a phonetically accurate spelling of the Gloucester accent, but also playfully reminds me of pre-pin yin phonetic approximations of Chinese. I’d love to meet the designer. Well done.
For the next week, I’ll be playing tour guide for a visitor from Fargo,
so it gives me an excuse to do some things I haven’t had a chance to do
yet as a resident. Despite being at Boston College for numerous years
(for my ego’s sake, I prefer not to actully say the number anymore) I
still haven’t been to a BC sporting event. It’s not that I don’t like
sports–I actually play them quite a bit–but I’ve developed a low
tolerance for watching sports, especially ones that I no longer believe
Case in point–football. Though I played football through 8th grade and was an avid Vikings fan growing up, I now think it’s a sport that takes too much money and receives too much attention, especially in university settings. You only have observe the 30 million dollar building being built just for the football program or the $100,000 dollar check presented during the game this evening to know what’s important around here.
Since I won’t be going to any more BC football games, I thought I’d at least get a shot of myself with a sign Joel made for the folks back home. Of course, as modest Scandinavians, we were’t self-assertive enough to hold it up much during the game, so this may be the most airtime it gets.
Last night I was fortunate enough to have my good friends Ken and Irene visiting from Indiana. Thanks to them, I spent the afternoon seeing my familiar places–my house, Harvard Square, Boston College, Coolidge Corner–through their eyes, a fresh perspective that made me appreciate where I am for this phase of life, however long or short that may be.
When we took the train down to the North End last night, I saw another familar place with fresh eyes–this time because it had actually changed in a dramatic way. After walking through Quincy Market, I was explaining to Ken and Irene where I-93 used to be and how it’s now underground, but when I turned around to view downtown, I was shocked that I could actually see it rather than having my view obstructed by Boston’s other “green monster.” Standing on the island between lanes of traffic, I was struck with wonder at the newness of the space. The park that eventually will cover it has not been built yet, but was apparent that the tear in the fabric of the city caused by the Central Artery was nearly repaired. A kind of healing has taken place through creating this new public space in the heart of an already rich urban landscape.
Last night I spend my third evening in Harvard Square this week, and I was glad to find that the square on a summer evening still has its charms, despite the many changes in recent years. Waiting for my friend Marlene—stuck in traffic on the Mass Ave bus—gave the chance to hear Lisa Bastoni play in front of Out of Town News.