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John Hancock building, downtown Boston |
Continuing with the theme of places I've been, there are so many possibilities:
Bedford,
Beverly,
Billerica,
Burlington, all places I knew in my salad days. But I'll go with
Boston (aka
Beantown), Massachusetts. Boston is called Beantown for a reason I had to look up, and it has something to do with the city's part in the 18th-century slave trade if you believe
the Internet (and who doesn't?).
The city has changed a lot since as a 12-year-old I took the B&M train into the city to meet a pal. There was a hole-in-the-wall diner called Joe and Nemo's, the combat zone with its offerings we didn't dare approach, Scollay Square where we heard the burley shows were. We were both too poor and innocent to check out any of those places. But we did eat lunch at Durgin Park, where the food was plentiful and the waitresses infamously brusque.
The streets downtown are rumored to have been laid out by cowpaths, which seems as good an explanation as any for the lack of a sensible grid. Today the city has a new look with buildings like the Hancock and the Pru. The old Boston Garden is gone, where the Celtics and Bruins used to play. But Fenway Park hasn't changed in a century, and the Boston Pops still gives free summer concerts along the Charles River.
Now we live more than 2,000 miles away, but Boston will always be my favorite city.
Since you've stopped by, please leave me a note in the comments section. I'll make a point of returning the favor.