As had become my standard practice, Monday after returning
from Florida was a day to rest and reorient myself. After my morning treatment, I had 8 left, so
the end was in sight. Although the
treatments had not been difficult, it felt good to be getting near the finish line.
After having such a great time with old friends Missy and
Charlie in Hampton Beach a couple weeks earlier, we were hoping to get together
again while I was still in town. We arranged
to meet on Tuesday for dinner at Burton’s Grill and Bar in Burlington.
It was quite a coincidence that they chose Burton’s for
dinner as I had had some significant meals with relatives there. I was first introduced to the Burton’s in
North Andover years ago by my cousin Joyce who, like me, had celiac
disease. They really took gluten-free
dining seriously with an extensive menu and procedures where a different server
would deliver gluten-free food to avoid possibility of cross-contamination with
other entrees.
At that first lunch at Burton’s with Joyce and her husband Mike, I had the first hamburger on an actual bun I had had in many years. Joyce, Mike and I also had a few breakfasts together when I was flying up to Methuen regularly to visit my father after my mother had died. They had come to know the chef at Atkinson Country Club who prepared great gluten-free breakfasts.
Joyce did not know she had Celiac disease until it had done significant damage. She wound up getting cancer in her digestive system and eventually died of related complications. Her husband Mike had had heart problems and passed away a few years later.
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I had more history with Burton’s as Pat and I had met my second
cousin Mike (Joyce and Mike’s son) and his wife Kate for dinner, again at the
one in North Andover, several years back.
A few years later, in October 2022 on another visit up north, John,
Carol and I met Mike and Kate for a great visit at lunch at yet another
Burton’s, I believe in Lynnfield. Unfortunately,
that would be the last time I would see Mike, as, a few months later, he
finally succumbed after a many-year battle with brain cancer.
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Me and my cousin Mike at a wedding in 2011 |
My cousin Mike
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On my way to dinner, I had another interesting experience
with Google Maps. At some point, while
stuck in traffic, my cell signal apparently was lost, causing the directions to
stop as well. When the signal was
reacquired and I restarted the route guidance, my ETA changed from about 20
minutes to over an hour. Turns out,
there was not a massive traffic jam ahead but, rather, when guidance was
restarted, it resumed directions to my prior destination rather than my current
one. Google was trying to send me to
Sailsbury, where I had met my cousin Nikki last week, instead of
Burlington.
Eventually I realized what had happened and was able to pull
over and reset the destination. I then
remembered that this had happened before when I was on my way to my brother
John’s presentation in downtown Providence and Google suddenly tried to send me
miles away to the location of a hike we had taken earlier in the week.
Looks like this might be another symptom of modern software
companies’ philosophy of getting technology out quickly rather than getting it
right—kind of like that Crowdstrike problem from the previous week that took
down computers everywhere. Of course,
this mindset is not exactly new, as those of us who used Windows computers in
the 90s and early 2000s thought nothing of having to reboot after the system
crashed or locked up. Maybe that’s when
we became used to accepting imperfections and annoyances in exchange for
getting to use the latest technology.
All this reminded me of an old boss in the 90s who used to
say: “if you’re writing bug-free code, you’re spending too much time on
it.” Maybe he was ahead of his
time. Of course, one might debate the
reasonableness of his advice, given that we were working on air traffic control
software.
But I digress.
Dinner was great but, while the gluten-free pasta was delicious,
spending time with people I care about like Missy and Charlie was the best thing
about the night. One of my more “famous”
stories I tell people is when some friends and I went to the Patriots game in 1985 when
they clinched a playoff spot. That
started a run that led to the Super Bowl and I had some escapades along the
way, but I’ll leave those stories for another time. The point is, Missy reminded
me that she was one of the friends with me at that game, a fact I did not
remember.
Thirty years later, Missy and Charlie helped me out when I
was in a situation where I needed it for reasons that are yet another story for
yet another time. When we were done with
dinner and leaving, we talked about staying in touch and trying to get together
when we can to continue the fifth decade of our friendship.
As I left Burton’s, I thought again of meals with beloved relatives who I will never again see on this earth.
Wednesday was another check-in day and, this time, the
radiation oncologist on duty was Dr. Martin.
My symptoms questionnaire was essentially the same as it had been
previously so there wasn’t a lot to discuss.
Plus, I wanted to keep the conversation short so I could make it back to
the hotel before the breakfast buffet closed at 9. A lot of my scheduling and planning wound up
revolving around that buffet.
Sometime after our Freedom Trail walk, my nephew Andrew had
expressed an interest in visiting the Basketball Hall of Fame out in
Springfield. John wanted to go as well
so we made plans to do it on Wednesday, which was supposed to be rainy and,
therefore, a good day for an indoor activity.
We decided to meet at a Park-and-Ride lot off the Massachusetts Turnpike
in Millbury, about 45 minutes from my hotel and then another hour from
Springfield.
The weatherman was correct on this occasion as Wednesday was
a kind of dreary, rainy day. I had to
hurry a bit to meet them after my treatment and appointment—and breakfast, of
course. When John and Andrew picked me
up, the one prominent side effect of radiation was on full display and I really
needed a rest room and there were none in sight. Luckily, the Mass Pike had a service area a
short distance from the Park-and-Ride that allowed me to relieve my discomfort.
I looked forward to seeing the HOF as I hadn’t visited any
of the major sport halls of fame in Cooperstown, NY (MLB), Canton, Ohio (NFL), or
wherever the hockey hall of fame is (assuming they have one). With the giant basketball embedded in its roof,
the HOF was hard to miss as we drove in.
Upon entering on the bottom floor, you are greeted with displays
about some of the game’s greatest stars.
You are instructed to start the tour on the top floor where they have
cut-out displays of modern stars, including Jason Tatum. From that third floor you can hear the sound
of lots of basketballs being dribbled as well as the occasional clank of balls
hitting rims. When you look down through
the open middle of the circular floor, so can see the sounds are coming from a
massive basketball court with dozens of baskets to shoot at on the ground
floor.
Down one level is the bulk of the displays. Many displays trace the history of the game from
its invention and the famous first peach baskets to the early, really
low-scoring games with all-white teams, to its evolution to the current game
and its legendary players. There is also
a lot about the history of women and basketball from the first college teams to
the WNBA. An interesting kiosk lets you learn about different elements of the game, such as the Euro step and the
no-look pass. An interactive display
allows you read about and see video clips of all members of the Hall of Fame. I mostly checked out the Celtic members of
the Hall. And speaking of the Celtics,
there was a Celtics “Vault” that contained a tribute to this year’s
championship team and highlights of all team members. Additional memorabilia displays were
interesting, but the “Superfan” room was kind of a clunker.
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Me, John and Andrew outside the
Celtics Vault (another poorly executed selfie)
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Me and a replica of the Celtics 1986
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Once we arrived back on the bottom floor, I felt like we had to get a ball and try out the court. John and I decided to play a game of “PIG,” shooting at a vintage peach basket. I handily won. We had a rematch at a regular basket and, combined, missed so many shots we lost track of the score. He thought he had lost when I finally made a shot, but I thought we were tied so we continued and he won. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and say the match was tied.
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John taking a shot at one of the vintage
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Me making a shot (absolutely only one take)
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Overall, it was a fun and interesting outing. When we got out, the rain had ended. On the way back, we stopped and ate at the
110 Grill where I was excited to see gluten-free clam chowder on the menu. Although it was okay, it was nowhere near as good as the Davio’s version, which may have spoiled me for life in that regard.
After we got back to the Park-and-Ride, John and Andrew
headed back to Rhode Island and went back to the hotel to rest up for my
sixth-to-last treatment in the morning.
I earlier mentioned my failed attempt to play in a 45s
tournament in Haverhill. Unwilling to
admit defeat on this “Merrimack Valley bucket list” item, I continued to search
the internet for any references to 45s tournaments. Eventually I found a website where someone
had a post about a tournament at the Lawrence Elks Lodge on Thursdays. I called the Lodge and verified they did
still have tournaments and they were open to the public. Of course, I had done the same thing at the
Crescent Yacht Club only to get there and find that the tournament was sold out.
Having already made a couple nostalgia tours to the environs
of where I lived for my first 28 years, I had a clearer plan for this trip. For starters, I left pretty early, knowing I
was likely to again hit traffic getting out of the city, which I did.
I knew I couldn’t resist getting another Harrison’s O.G.
roast beef sandwich, so I brought a cooler with a cold pack. I picked the sandwich up on my way up Route
125 through North Andover and put it in the cooler to enjoy after the big 45s
tournament.
Next, after my abysmal performance the first time, I wanted
to take another crack at candlepin bowling at Academy Lanes in Haverhill. This time I eventually figured out that I
just wasn’t going to get rid of the hook I developed using big balls with holes
in them. So I started moving way to the
left side of the lane and throwing the ball far to the right so it could hook
back in. It kind of worked as I started
actually hitting the head-pin sometimes.
I was able achieve one of my goals by making a spare—I got 3 of them, in
fact. I did fall a little short of my “stretch”
goal of breaking 100, topping out at 93 in my second string. Maybe I’ll break a hundred next time,
whenever that may be.
After bowling, I headed to South Lawrence to make sure the
Elks Lodge was where I thought it was.
It was. Still with a lot of time
before the 6 p.m. tournament, I decided to take a quick trip to the cemeteries
which were just an exit or two up I-93.
I did run into a rather puzzling traffic backup trying to get back on
the interstate off River Road, but still had time to visit Ma and Dad and some
aunts and uncles. I asked Auntie Olga
and Uncle Tilley for some last-minute 45s advice.
Upon returning to the Elks Lodge, my first challenge was getting into the building. As a non-member of the lodge, I had to get someone’s attention to buzz me in. Once I was let in, I went to the bar to inquire about the alleged 45s tournament. The bartender directed me to an older lady at a table by the wall. So far, things were occurring like at the Yacht Club, however, this time I was able to pay my $10 entry fee and reserve my seat for the tournament.
I talked to the woman running things (I really should have
remembered her name) long enough to find out she was also being treated at Dana
Farber. I also talked to a couple older
gentlemen about the Red Sox and Patriots and got more comfortable in this
environment where I was an outsider, a non-member and younger than almost
everyone there.
Shortly thereafter, we drew for partners and started
playing. My partner was verbally quiet
but made a lot of noise with his bidding, including once going 25 with
jack-double-ace and running smack into the 20 bidder’s nickel (sorry for the
lingo, non-45s players). In our first
game we played against the woman who was running things and her partner. We won pretty easily but, during the game, I noticed
that her teammate was one of those guys who criticizes his partner’s play a
lot. In my experience, I’ve found those
who complain the loudest about others’ play are often the worst players.
In any case, the game was coming pretty easy to me, possibly
benefitting from the “practicing” I’d done while trying to develop my own 45s application. And, actually,
in 4-handed partner 45s, most plays are pretty automatic. I had a couple close decisions, but
everything was working out pretty well as we ran off to a 3-win, 1-loss
record. In the last game, as often
happens, we never had a chance as the previously one-win team got all the cards
and smoked us.
While waiting for all the games to finish, I had an
interesting conversation with one of the other players, an older gentleman who
told me he had been a lawyer in Lawrence but ran into “some trouble.” I didn’t press him on the issue. He talked about going to the Stopyra Post and
I told him I had been to some weddings there with my family years ago. He also told me where I might find 45s
tournaments every weekday, if I was in town again.
While we were talking, the tournament organizer came over to
tell me that my team’s 3-win, 2-loss record was good enough to tie for second
place, winning me my $10 back. I was
ready to buy everyone drinks with these “winnings” but instead just chatted a
bit more, then headed back to Boston (I did offer to buy my two new friends a
drink, but they declined). The
tournament had actually taken longer than I thought it would and, by the time I
left Lawrence, it was almost 9.
On my drive back to my hotel, I thought about the nice
people I had met that night and how much fun it was to play “competitive” 45s
again. Back in my room, my deconstructed
roast beef sandwich tasted especially good accompanied by the quiet celebration
of my break-even tournament “victory.”
After another uneventful (which means good, since nothing bad happened) treatment on Friday, I was done for the week with only 4 more to go. Throughout the week, I had been giving my radiation specialists thank you cards that included Dunkin Donuts gift certificates. I was never sure who would be on duty each session, so I started handing them out a week before I would be done to try to not miss anyone. In the end, I wound up giving these little tokens of appreciation to all my doctors and assistants, my nurse, the front desk person, and the Dana Farber Lodging Coordinator and Resource Office Representative. All these people had been so nice and helpful and made my entire experience very positive when it could have been so much worse.
It felt like I had done a lot this week but, since I was still feeling good after finishing treatments for the week, I decided to head over to Foxborough and check out the Patriots training camp. John and I had gone to one of these a few years ago, when Cam Newton was firing up the crowd and dueling with Mac Jones for the starting quarterback position. We didn’t know it at the time, but that choice was a lose-lose proposition.
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With the dynasty days of Brady and Belichick now past,
expectations for the Pats were lower than they’d been in decades. But there was a new “great QB hope” in
camp. Maybe they’d be contenders again
in a few years.
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Despite low expectations for the season, fans did appear fired up as we all took the long walk from the parking lot to the practice fields. I couldn’t resist the cheesy photo ops along the way.
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Me and one of the Patriots' Minutemen (they wouldn't be firing the
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Me and a giant vintage Patriots helmet
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Before practice began, the Patriots best player, Matthew
Judon, was playing catch with fans in the stands, getting everyone juiced up. This was about the last action Judon would
see as a Patriot as, due to a contract dispute, he was unloaded for a
third-round draft pick.
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One thing I hadn’t remembered from last time was a strong emphasis that video recording was not allowed. There were signs stating as such and, as practice time got close, a guy was walking around with a giant “No Video” sign and there was a PA announcement reemphasizing the point. I guess the Patriots were worried about spies from other teams getting glimpses of that “high-powered” offense that scored less than almost anyone in the league. Not sure if that meant still photos were also forbidden but, when they made the announcement, all the cell phones got put away. I thought I later saw security guards enter the stands to confront someone still taking pictures, although they could have been talking to them about some other issue. Before the warning, I did manage to get a shot of Drake Maye warming up in the background.
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The "No Video" signs were prominent
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I caught a shot of new QB Drake Maye
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Watching the practices was interesting as the kickers kicked
and the offense ran plays. All the
quarterbacks looked really bad, not really completing anything and throwing
picks and near-picks. Maybe they don’t
want videoing out of sheer embarrassment.
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Patriots practice fields
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On this hot day, free swag included hand
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My research of Patriots Place, the entertainment complex
located adjacent to the stadium, told me there was a Davio’s among the
restaurants there. After practice was
over, I seized the opportunity to get another clam chowder and gluten-free
pasta. It was again great, although I
think the food at the one in Chestnut Hill was a little better.
My pre-visit research also told me there was a new
attraction at Gillette, a 5-story lighthouse, affording arial views of the
field, Boston and, allegedly, Providence.
Since it only cost $5, I figured I’d check it out. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just fork over a
5-dollar bill or even a credit card to get in.
You had to annoyingly scan a QR code, pay on your phone, then show the
guy at the entrance your receipt. I
persevered through this ordeal and gained entry to the tower. The views were pretty cool, although I failed
in my goal to get a picture of my car in the parking lot.
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The lighthouse at Gillette Stadium
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Me at the top of the lighthouse with
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View of Patriot Place |
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View of the field set up for soccer (it was also
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Dana Farber is also at Patriot Place |
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View of the parking lot and beyond (couldn't find my car)
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Gillette Stadium sign from above |
On my way out, I couldn’t resist stopping in the team store. I walked out with yet another Patriots shirt for my collection, this one a throwback Pat Patriot polo. After that, the final challenge was finding my way back to whichever parking lot my car was in. This turned out to be harder than I thought, but gave me some good exercise to work off that lunch.
After my Foxborough visit, I returned to the hotel for the rest
of Friday and much of Saturday.
Originally, I had plans to meet up with my cousin Kim on Saturday, but
that had to be postponed until Sunday.
Apparently, they had friends in town who had to stay another day due to
the ripple effect of flight cancellations from that computer glitch a week
earlier. I’ve ranted sufficiently on
that topic, I think.
My second oldest second cousin Kim and I had tried for a
while to figure out when I could get together with her and her husband,
Kevin. They are busy working folks who
do a lot of travelling for work and pleasure.
And I was doing some travelling of my own, going back to Florida most
weekends. We finally got together on
Sunday at their house, for lunch.
As with my other second cousins, Kim and I had been kids at
the same time as we attended all those family get-togethers. Years later, her and I had played some rounds
of golf together at Merrimack Country Club.
After I moved to Florida in 1989, Kim was one of the first people to
come visit me and we toured some of the local tourist attractions, like Disney
and Epcot.
When I decided to get my prostate cancer treated with
radiation, Kevin reached out to me and offered to talk about his experience
with radiation treatment from many years ago.
Our discussion was very helpful in mentally preparing me for what I
would experience. I was looking forward
to catching up with both of them.
It was an easy Sunday drive down the Mass Pike and I-495 to Kim
and Kevin’s house south of Boston. It
appeared that a car was following me from when I got off the interstate until I
got to the house. As it turned out, it
was Kim’s sister, Nikki, who was joining us.
I was kind of a difficult guest, with all my dietary
restrictions, but we finally settled on Thai take-out. The food was great, but visiting after lunch
was even better.
First, I was able to demo my work-in-progress 45s card game program. It still had bugs and, as
is, one player has to play all the hands, but I was happy it ran without
crashing.
Kim talked about one of her hobbies, coloring decorative
shells (there’s a name for it that I can’t remember). She gave me a purple one to bring back to
Pat.
Kevin told us some interesting stories about young people he
interviewed for tech jobs. One showed up
in pajamas, others had hygiene issues, including an avid nose-picker. Apparently, he did not recommend hiring any
of them.
After some of that chatting, Kevin loaded up an archive of
literally thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of family pictures on his laptop
and projected them onto a screen. During
COVID, he and Kim had scanned in the pictures from Auntie Sadie’s and Uncle
Pete’s collections and photo albums. Some went back to the 1940s. I can’t imagine how much work it was to scan
and label all those pictures.
I have to admit, I got a little choked up seeing pictures of
all the aunts and uncles, my parents and all the cousins through the
years. There were a lot of good times
captured in those shots and it’s great that they exist. It made me think I need to look through
whatever pictures I inherited from Ma and Dad and scan them in. I doubt I have the determination and skill
that Kim and Kevin had to complete such a task so beautifully.
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Me and my cousins, Nicole and Kim |
Me, Nicole, Kim and Kevin
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As the afternoon zipped by, I realized I needed to leave since
I had plans for dinner that night. On my
way back to my hotel, I drove by the Dana Farber Lifetime Center in Chestnut
Hill. With my radiation treatment now
nearing an end, I thought back to the beginning of my Dana Farber journey 5
months earlier when, in this building, I first met with the doctors who would
treat me. This being Sunday, the place
looked pretty deserted so I pulled in and took a few pictures to remember the
place by.
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The Dana Farber Lifetime Center, where my journey started
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Me in front of the Lifetime Center
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That evening, I had plans to meet my long-time friend Johnny
for dinner at, of all places, Logan Airport.
He travels quite a bit for his job and was flying out early Monday
morning. His company put him up at the
Airport Hilton so he wouldn’t have to make a pre-dawn drive into Boston to make
his flight.
I actually first met Johnny in seventh grade, at Central
Junior High School (in the days before middle school existed) when we sat next
to each other in music class. Even back
then, he had the greatest sense of humor.
Although we both lived in Methuen, we didn’t really become friends until
years later. As it turned out, his
parents had a trailer in the same Hampton Beach park as my friend Jack’s mother
and the two had been friends for years.
It was quite a coincidence but, after reconnecting in our late teens, Johnny
and I became friends and still are today.
After I moved to Florida, we lost touch after a while, but he, his wife
Sue and I got together again when I started coming north more after my mother
died.
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My long-time friend Johnny
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My 7th grade report card (somehow I had a career as an engineer despite all Cs in Math)
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Johnny, Jack, Missy, me and the rest of that Hampton Beach
crowd had a lot of fun times in our youth, many of which might be best to not
talk about. We went to a lot of concerts
back then, including the Kinks show that required a 3-hour road trip to
Springfield with 7 people crammed into my Chevy Monza. Another memorable show was when we borrowed
our friend Andy’s car (because it was bigger than that Monza) to drive to Cape Cod
to see Rodney Dangerfield, who was absolutely hilarious. Andy never was one to maintain his cars
well. On that trip we had to stop and
put oil in the car after it spit out so much black smoke that we thought we had
poisoned some kids at a McDonald’s playland.
A more recent memory for me was when I had a “brush with the
law” (which is another story for another time) when I was up in Massachusetts to
clean out my father’s house after he had passed away. In a situation where I needed some help, I
felt so fortunate to be able to count on Johnny and his wife, Sue, as well as
Sue’s sister, Chris, her husband Todd, as well as Missy, Charlie and my
wonderful brothers to all be there for me.
Getting to Logan Airport on a Sunday night would probably
normally not be that difficult, however, on this occasion, the Sumner
Tunnel—essentially the only way out of the airport—was closed and half the
lanes into the airport were re-routed to be outbound lanes. In sum, getting to and from the airport would
be a cluster****. Luckily, Boston has a
great transit system. Also, it has what
might be an even greater website that allowed me to determine that a short
walk, the Green Line, Blue Line, airport shuttle and another short walk would
bring me to the restaurant at the Airport Hilton in a timely manner.
Taking this route also allowed me to also “blaze a trail”
for my friend Jim, who was flying in to visit me the next day. After testing the route on Sunday, I could
advise him on how he could get from the airport to my hotel without my having
to dodge that miserable traffic to pick him up.
On one of the stops on the Green Line, a couple of women,
possibly a mother and daughter, struggled to get on board the train with a
whole lot of luggage. I would guess one
was a bit older than me and one younger.
It was cool to see how passengers helped them. When I had the chance, I gave one of them my
seat. Seeing they were getting off at
the same place I was, I offered to help with their luggage as I figured they
were heading to airport on the Blue Line as I was. On the ride, we talked a little bit and I found
they were tourists from Minnesota.
Talking to them may have also eased their minds about this strange guy
who was going to the airport with no luggage.
I explained I was in town for Dana Farber and, tonight, was meeting an
old friend for dinner at the Hilton.
Turns out, they were both cancer survivors.
When I helped them with their one really big suitcase, I realized why they had struggled as it was quite heavy—the one woman said she was worried it would be over the flight weight limit. When we exited the airport shuttle, they thanked me profusely and gave me their one-week MBTA Charlie card which they said had one day left on it. It’s interesting how just doing normal, kind human things to help others can make you feel kind of good.
Johnny and I had a great catching-up session that lasted for
hours over dinner. We talked about our
jobs, my retirement, how my treatment was going, and our families. And there was a lot about the crazy old days
in our youth, also. I guess there are
people in your life who, when you see them--no matter how many years it’s
been—it’s just like old times. We hoped
to get together again in the future when our wives could attend. We
had met around 6 (I was a little late,
which is usual for me) and I think I got back to my hotel just before
midnight. Even accounting for my “commute” of about an hour, we
had talked a long
time. It wound up being a pretty full day
for my final Sunday in Boston.
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