Get your ow
n diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

12:30 p.m. - 2003-01-03
The rest of Christmas!! Hooray! No more Christmas entries!!
"Oh God, enough about Christmas already!!"

I can hear you all moaning. No, really, this is the last entry, cuz' I'm sick of it, too.

*********************************

You know what the coolest part of the holiday was? Seeing my nephew.

My nephew, David, just spent his first semester at college, and was back working at the local pizza parlor during his vacation. Yup, a boy needs money for snowboarding, y'know. So when Bruce and I and my folks decided to get pizza on Saturday night we naturally went over to where he works. I hadn't seen him for a year, and I wasn't sure I'd recognise him.

He recognized me, though. We had just come in the door when a tall, lanky dreamboat of a guy (ok, so he's my nephew and I'm biased!) in a black watchcap stuck his head out of the kitchen door.

"Oh. My. God!!" he exclaimed. "OH MY GOD!!! It's ARNIE RUTH!!!" and he bounded over to give me a breath-stopping hug.

It's nice to know he hasn't grown up so much that hugging Arnie Ruth (and by the way, it has been "Arnie" and not "Auntie" ever since he was a little kid) is still an ok thing to do.

********************************

Monday was kind of a sad day. I had planned to do some shopping for cool house things in Harvard Square, but the minute Bruce let me off by the Hong Kong I saw a homeless man sitting on the ground. Next to him was a little dog, and on his knee was a black and white cat on a leash. The animals looked well fed, and the dog had a little rawhide toy, but the man had that shell-shocked look of someone who has been worrying about far too much for far too long.

It really disturbed me, and made me feel like the materialistic creep that I am. There I was, going off to have a big shopping trip when this man didn't know where his, or his animals, next meal was coming from.

I confess I gave him all the cash I had in my wallet, all of about $12 dollars. I folded it up and handed it to him in a little wad. I had gone about a block when I looked back to see him staring at me with a stunned look on his face. Merry Christmas, honey.

After that I felt totally unable to do anything involving large amounts of cash so I went to an old favorite coffeehouse, La Pamplona, and had an old favorite drink, an iced chocolate. The people at the table next to me were obnoxious Harvard business school types, all wearing expensive, designer clothing, blithering about all the European cities they had been doing business in and how Citibank would make more of a profit if they just upped their interest rates half a percent, ad nauseum. I wanted to slap them.

The yuckiest part about returning to Boston was getting hit with the fact that there is no longer a middle class there. There are only very, very rich people and very, very poor people. The cost of living is so exorbitant that no one else can live there. Regular apartments have gotten so expensive that middle class and working class people either leave the city (like Bruce and I) or live on the street.

I'm glad I don't live there any more. Once again, you just cannot ever go home again...

*********************************

But Monday afternoon was better. Sarah and I wanted to spend more time together, so we met at South Station just to walk around. For a few minutes we couldn't figure out where to go - the North End? Beacon Hill? Charles Street? The Public Gardens? - and then Sarah asked me if I knew that the bookstore Avenue Victor Hugo was closing. I was shocked. Avenue V.H. has been around for as long as I've known Boston, which is about 25 years, and I was furious that they were being forced to close because their landlord had raised their rent so much. It turned out to be a false alarm as they are actually moving in with Johnson Paint and not closing, but once again, Boston is for the very rich....

Anyway, that decided it, and we headed off across Boston Common, and then over to Charles Street so we could walk down through the funky old part of town. Gorgeous old buildings....

"Have you ever been to the Church Of The Advent?" asked Sarah. "No?!! Well, we must go!" so we detoured to the most beautiful church, an old Episcopal church with stained glass and old clay tile floors and carved Stations of the Cross. I felt like I was in Europe.

We lit candles in the tiny chapel - mine, of course was for the homeless man and his pets - and sat for a few minutes in the silence. This is something I've never seen in the South: a really old, beautiful church.

But then, I do make it a point not to go to all that many churches.

On the way out we noticed a freeloader taking advantage of the good graces of the congregation. On one of the pews was a large grey cat, snoozing away, obviously dozing off a recent meal. He barely even looked up when we patted him. Talk about spoiled! Turns out his name is Bradley and he lives in the church. What a life!

*******************************

And now to Tuesday, which is worth recording because it was actually the nicest day I have ever spent with my mother. We went to the cemetary in Lyndeboro where my great-great and great-great-great grandparents are buried. I had never been there, and my mom wanted me to know where it was "because you never know when something might happen and I won't be around to show it to you." My mom is nothing if not prepared for her own mortality.

The cemetary was the most totally peaceful place, but snowy, so my mom actually waited in the car while I trudged over to the mercifully close to the road graves. Someday I must write about this particular group of my ancestors, as they have kind of a fascinating story involving Methodist tee-totallers and Scottish whiskey drinking musicians and the Lowell textile mills and tuberculosis. It's a classic 19th century New England tale.

Afterward my mom seemed to feel like driving around the backroads and showed me the houses where these ancestors had lived and the town center with the original pound and town hall still standing. It was so silent and peaceful. No wonder my mom and I were getting along. And my mother was telling all kinds of stories about her family which is always a good thing. She talks about her ancestors as though they are still alive. I feel like I'm on intimate terms with all of them.

After a while we came out into the town of Wilton, which had actually been our original destination. Wilton has changed from the run-down little mill town I remember into something which vaguely resembles a happening place.

And they had a candy store that made me want to faint. Nelson's Candies. They had molasses puffs and salt water taffy and wintergreen patties and orange slices all made right there. Obviously I spent a small fortune.

*************************************

Christmas Day? Notable for two things:

1. A snow storm which dropped 20 inches of snow and made for a nervous holiday spent wondering if we'd get back to my sister's office or die stranded in a snowbank on the way back. I was kicking myself that I hadn't brought my snow shoes. I love snowshoeing, especially during snowstorms. It's #1 on my list of "Things I Miss About New England".

2. The fact that my family finally came to their senses and decided that next year we should jack in the whole gift giving insanity and donate to eachother's favorite charities instead. My sister and I have been pushing for this for years and my parents and other sister finally gave in. Gives me hope for the world. It'll also be fascinating to see what we all pick, though I can pretty much guess there will be a number of animal shelters on the list.


0 comments

 

 

previous - next

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!