Red Sox Country Weekend

I visited Magda and Joe in Boston the weekend after the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in Fenway Park since 1918.  Even dead people were celebrating.  Think of the St. Patrick's Day Parade in NYC colored green and you'll get the picture.  And smell.

Employees in the banner industry must have been working 24/7.  Nearly every building seemed to have one.

Many jack o’ lanterns on Beacon Hill hopped aboard the victory wagon, too:

This one required a little extra engineering.

It got me to wondering:  are rich folk better pumpkin carvers or do they hire people to do it for them?    

As in any neighborhood, some residents opted for quantity over quality.

Few of Boston’s statues were unmolested by Red Sox fans.  Here, for example, is the father of our country at the entrance to the Common.

Joe had to explain the significance of the beards to me.  Team members began growing them during spring training.

Magda & Joe live in Brookline, near the Coolidge Corner stop on the T, while Joe does his residency in pediatric cardiology at Harvard.  He's not home a lot.  Magda works downtown in new media marketing.

The neighborhood movie theatre is a landmark.

We used the Hubway, Boston’s bike share program, to get around on Saturday.  Here are Magda and Joe at the Boston Public Library station.  Notice how New Balance doesn’t scream its program sponsorship quite so loudly as Citibank in NYC.

I love the “free to all” inscription above the helmeted head at the Library's entrance.

Definitely a good deal—it’s nearly as grand as the New YorkPublic Library, complete with a pair of (indoor) lions, commemorating Union victories during the Civil War.

Just look at the murals

. . . the tiled floors

. . . the vaulted ceiling

. . . and the fountain.

Actually, that fountain looked pretty refreshing, with temperatures in the low seventies.  We walked along Newbury Avenue until we got to Restoration Hardware, once a natural history museum.  It’s Magda’s favorite store.

Scrabble anyone?

We passed through Boston Common on our way to the much less colorful Granary Burial Ground.

 

Paul Revere is probably its most famous occupant (don’t tell Samuel Adams or John Hancock).

Children, skeletons and angels are engraved on many of the headstones.

Charles Cushing is definitely the odd man out among 2,345 marked graves.  Historians estimate that nearly twice that number of people are buried here.

This truck provided a little levity as we meandered back home.  Ya gotta love the dangling kid.

Paulist imagery is a little more circumspect.

Magda took a picture of Joe and me in front of Cheers.  Nobody knew our names.

Then it was back along the Charles via the Hubway.

We were pretty pooped after a day of sightseeing.  Speaking of poop, meet my new grand nephew:  Mustapha or Mufi for short.  He's a 3-times daily-kinda guy.

Mufi spent the night licking my hair.  Almost as good for styling as sea mousse!

Nothing like a Sunday morning pajama party.

Magda's such a sweetie pie.  She bought me a box of chocolates.  It didn't last long, but the box is now on display at the Hon Museum of Sentimental Curiosities, aka 47 Pianos, my apartment.