Boston has played a major part in this website over the past twenty years, forming the backdrop for many a documented excursion, and the inspiration for many blog posts. It’s still my favorite city in the world, and it’s the place where I can find peace, happiness, excitement, glamour, stillness, calm, joy and adventure. I was scheduled to revisit it this past weekend, but plans were changed due to a stomach flu, so a re-do is in the works. Until then, this linky look back at some enjoyable Boston stays will have to sustain us.
Boston has always been home to me – even when we were just visiting as children, its size and streets and charm felt cozy and comfortable, thanks mostly to the guiding force of Mom, who took us around and showed us how manageable a city could be. Back then, we stayed mostly to Copley Square, and the safe confines of our hotel. Eventually, I grew out of that sheltered space, and ventured forth into the city on my own. It’s been one beautiful journey after another, and I wouldn’t change a single step.
Boston was the first place where I ever kissed a man, and despite how that all turned out, I have found a way to cherish that memory.
Boston was where I met and forged a friendship with Alissa. We returned there to meet again and again over the years, and whenever I tread the South End streets near where she used to live, she comes back to life.
Boston is where I found my first real job, in retail of course, which was the start of a beautiful romance.
Boston is where I met JoAnn, which sparked one of the most hilarious moments in my life, right on the steps of Trinity Church.
Boston was where I reconnected with Kira, who formed a major part of my days at John Hancock, along with JoAnn and the whole OG Hancock crew. She is entwined with my Boston history, happily so, no matter life may bring to us. She also helped me start the Boston Holiday Stroll tradition, something we kept going for quite a few years. Andy has picked up where she left off, and it’s still one of my favorite holiday traditions.
Boston is home to several happy holiday traditions, highlighted by the Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, which is one of the more uncharacteristic events I’ve hosted in my Boston home. Thankfully, I’m a pro around the kiddies these days, and I can handle however many hours it might run.
Boston was where I was supposed to be on the day of the Marathon Bombing. I was literally about to get in the car to start the drive when messages started coming in asking if I was ok; I unpacked my bags to the news of the lockdown and manhunt for the bombers.
Boston is the home of the Red Sox, the only sports team that has ever inspired any sort of passion in me, thanks to the way my Dad raised me and my brother. We were a Red Sox household, and that allegiance has never wavered (even when I was the lone sixth-grader in upstate New York rooting for them against the Mets in that bummer of a 1986 season – yeah, I still remember). That played the historical backbone to the BroSox Adventures that Skip and I have enjoyed for many years, a tradition that forms what is always one of the most fun weekends of our summer season.
Boston is also a place for drama, and as we get older I find myself in more, and less, of it. Lessons have been learned, and lessons have had to be re-learned, and still the city provides a backdrop and balm for whatever is going on in the tumult of all our hearts and heads.
Boston is where I love to rendezvous with an old friend, such as this salty old man who has been along for the rollercoaster of friendship with me since 1995. We blame Suzie for introducing us, and Suzie has been in Boston numerous times, lending her own quirky enchantment to the city and finding new ways to dream.
Boston is a home I’ve had for almost three decades, standing solidly within the brick walls of our condo, obliterating the attacks of every winter storm or stifling summer day, providing respite and reprieve from an ever-frightening outside world.
Perhaps most happily of all, Boston is where Andy and I got married – on a bright sunny May day in the Public Garden, surrounded by all the spring blooms and swans and love that anyone could want. We return there year after year – sometimes it rains, sometimes the sun shines, and often it does a bit of both – and it grounds us again, reminding us of that day, that year, and all the years that we’ve had together.
Boston is Love.
