Back to Boston

Sorry about not posting the last couple of days. In case anyone is wondering, I did not give up on my blog and abandon it to cyberspace. Nor did I run out of fascinating things to say. I went to Boston. And some other places too. It was a whirlwind tour of New England, and it was so much fun.

I cannot right now describe everything I saw. In fact, I just barely got home and walked in the door and have changed out of my rain-soaked clothes, and since Boston is still fresh on my mind, I will just say a few words.

Boston and New York are both big cities, but that is where the similarity ends. They are like two worlds. In Boston, you feel a connection with history that isn't apparent in New York. In Boston, the streets are brick and haphazardly placed, and are named after artists of the 18th century: Stuart and Copley. You turn a corner and you are confronted with a statue of a pilgrim or the gravestone of a founding father. And even more ancient stories are there to be told: long ago when I lived in Massachusetts I used to constantly think of the Native Americans who used to live where I lived, and walk in the woods where I walked. How did they feel when strange white people came and took over their world?

I know that Native Americans lived in New York once upon a time too, but here the history has been repressed and buried under the slick impermeable state-of-the-art bubble of flashing modernity with all its grit and glamour that is New York City. Nobody here ever thinks of the past, except me--but only because I'm studying it.

Boston has a personality, a depth, a spirit that is unlike any other city I know of. I got there on the night of the first game of the World Series, and the Red Sox won. You just knew that in every bar, in every living room, people were cheering and having a great time, and kids were falling in love with their home town team. Boston is like one big family that has never moved away from where it has always lived. You feel welcome there. You feel good.

I felt good as I chowed down on delicious Dunkin Donuts, at 8 o'clock this morning in Boston Common, sitting on a bench in the sunshine watching old Asian men do martial arts exercises. It felt good to be home.