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| If you look closely, you might see Daisy Duke swimming out to greet the crew of the USS Constitution. |
The difference between living in Boston and, say, Lakeland, Minnesota (population 1,993) is there tends to be wonderful surprises that come with living both by the water and in the big city.
About half an hour ago, I got into my car to go return a video game to Red Box. I took the back way home to avoid traffic and pedestrians. There was a fire boat out on the Mystic River blaring water out of every nozzle. That's not so unusual. But trailing a couple hundred yards behind the fire boat was the USS Constitution, the oldest boat in the Navy, celebrating the 225th anniversary of its first sail in 1787.
I quickly parked and jogged out to the end of the pier to take a picture. As usual, the first picture was the best, though I put a couple more at the bottom of the blog. A couple of Italian guys were hanging out on the dock talking loudly to nobody in particular, which is par for the course.
"Why isn't there anybody out here?"
"'Cuz nobody gives a damn about history no more."
It was laughably stereotypical, but stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. That trueism is one of many that have been hammered home since we moved to Boston in June. The learning curve in a new city can be steep. The question The Wife and I have received most often in the past few months always has an underlying assumption.
"Do you love living in Boston?"
Lots of people have visited Boston. You tour the Old North End, visit Cheers off Boston Common and catch a game at Fenway. What's not to love? It's easy to love a place when you're on vacation, especially when that town is Boston.
Real life has more gray areas. We do love Boston. And we hate Boston. Since May 1, TW and I have been on an emotional roller-coaster. I simply cannot believe it has only been five months since TW graduated from college. It feels like years ago.
I have many friends who have lived in the same state or same general location for all of their lives. I have my fifth state-issued driver's license and am in my seventh state of residence in the last 17 years. No, I'm not shooting for all 50 states.
Moving is traumatic. We have some excellent friends in Maine. We have many in Minnesota and Utah. We moved to Boston with Zero friends. TW left school and started medical practice. That'd be daunting for anyone. I started a new full-time job. I got laid off but am working part-time at the same paper. And we've had at least 10 people stay in our guest bedroom since the middle of July. Sometimes, it feels like life is whirling around our heads.
There are also incredibly good moments. TW walks out of the State House or Faneuil Hall at sunset and is awed. I walk through Boston Common on the quick step to hop on the subway. We ride bikes along the Charles and notice the Head of the Charles Regatta is this weekend. The leaves, my God, the fall leaves. And the simple joy of making new friends ... with somebody who went to high school with my brother and lives 300 yards from us. It's a small world.
We love Boston. And we hate Boston. Neither of those statements is true, exactly. Living somewhere different is very, very hard. But there are moments here, when the water guns are pumping at full bore and a 225-year-old ship sails by, where I have to realize this is an incredibly unique period in life. And I'm not going to let it go without blogging about it.
And now we're back to Square 1, Blog 1. I won't bore you with the details. Ninety straight weekdays of blogging, excepting Christmas and possibly Thanksgiving. I need to write. Not to entertain and not to make money but because it is part of my DNA. Hang in there. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
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