I just got back from Boston and, I am smiling, as usual. What is it, do you suppose, that makes Boston such an endearing city?I have never met anyone who sneered when I mention Boston and almost everyone, if they have been there, smile fondly. I do the same thing. Sure, it’s the city that stole my baby boy, but somehow I have forgiven it. I have to admit, the city gave my kid a great education with a lot of fun mixed in. It is an especially wonderful place to attend college or to just be 20something.
But I might have been further persuaded by the cannollis from the north end Italian bakery. Or perhaps it was strolling the Common or past a building where one or more of the founding fathers hung out and did some extraordinary things. I love that stuff. Or maybe it was the view of the Charles River from atop a building on my son’s campus after his graduation.
Last week my affection was sealed with a visit to my child’s tiny but adorable, below-street-level apartment in one of those cool, brick and wrought iron row houses. However, I cannot discount the influence of the sticky buns from the corner breakfast place.
I have to add that I get treated like a queen there from the minute I walk off the plane. I have no idea why and I am not going to require an explanation. Men flirt and compliment me. Women yak and laugh with me. Kids smile at me. It may be that Bostonians, while busy city folk, are just more than cheerful to everyone. I prefer to think they just recognize I love their city, am always in a grand mood when there and, well, that I just deserve the royal treatment.
I especially enjoy that it is such an international city, full of tolerance and Irish roots. You can’t walk a block without hearing two foreign languages being spoken, which I find delicious. It has become my “laughin’ place” — where I go to get away from it all. But, after six years of hearing how much my son loves it there, that option might actually have an expiration date. He finally, almost admitted he might like to get back to California. Aha!
I guess I’ll just have to go back without him. I wonder if there is a hotel near the cannolli bakery?