I’m thankful that I got to have lobster (“lob-stah” – if you’re from around here) last night. I typically have one lobster dinner per summer, so I’m glad I got this one in before Labor Day—the unofficial end of summer.
Growing up in New England, I’ve eaten many, many lobsters. And yes, as a kid, I was extremely concerned about the seemingly cruel manner of death – by boiling. But once I had that delicious claw meat dipped in hot, melted butter, I got over it.
For those who have never had a lobster, the best ones are from the cold New England waters, especially Maine. (I made the mistake of ordering a lobster in Hawaii once. It was a totally different experience.) In my opinion, boiled lobster is best accompanied by a baked potato and either fresh corn or good coleslaw.
And if you’re a GenXer like me, you must recall a certain song, whenever lobster is served. (You know the one.)
Growing up in Massachusetts, I should have visited New York City before age 18, but I did not. For some reason, my parents never took us there, even though my mother’s parents were true Brooklynites—Dodgers fans before “dem bums” moved to LA. I remember my grandmother always pronounced certain words the Brooklyn way—“earl” for oil and “erster” for oyster. (My grandparents moved to Worcester, Massachusetts early in their marriage and never returned to Brooklyn.)
I first went to NYC on a bus from my college in Hartford in the mid eighties. We went for the day. I’ll never forget seeing those vertigo-inducing Manhattan skyscrapers for the first time. New York is so much bigger and taller than all the other American cities. Chicago, Miami, Philly, DC, LA, San Francisco, and of course Boston, are all special in their own ways, but New York is the greatest of them all. (And I say this as someone who grew up despising the New York Yankees.)
On that very first trip to NYC, I remember a shopkeeper asked me where I was from and I said “How do you know I’m not from New York?” He answered, “Because you’re not wearing black and you smiled and said thank you.” He guessed I was from Connecticut. Also, on that same trip, my friend Ann told me to quit gawking and saying things like “I can’t believe I’m in NEW YORK.”
I was determined to expose my kids to NYC before they were 18, so they wouldn’t seem so naive and Connecticutty when they visited.
A photo I took of my sister in NYC in 1987. (She was living there at the time and did not give Connecticut vibes like I did.)
My friend Andreada in Washington Square Park in 1988. That was a wild trip. NYC in the late 80s was a bit scary. I had to sit near a nasty perv on the bus down and got robbed of my leather coat while I was out at a bar. AIDS and drug addiction were casting a pall.My daughter in the Empire State Building, 2005
My son’s first trip to NYC, 2011
A mini-reunion with high school friends in Manhattan in 2011.
In 2018, I just HAD to see Hamilton on Broadway, so my friend Dina and I planned to go down for the day in late March. I thought we’d be safe from winter storms, so I bought tickets to a matinee. But then a freak spring snowstorm was forecast so we went down on the train the night before, so as to not miss the show. Well, the snowstorm was so bad that they cancelled our Amtrak home and we had to stay over a second night. It was quite a snowy adventure! We ended up running into a friend who took us to see a second Broadway show (Carousel starring Renée Fleming) for free. (She had extra tickets because her friends wouldn’t brave the snow.) We ate at the famous Sardi’s restaurant after the show.
The Hamilton marquis on Broadway, 2018My friend Dina outside the Bryant Park Grill in March 2018. Amtrak shut down for two days due to this little bit of snow! We took the bus home instead.
I went back to NYC for a conference the following month. There was no sign of snow then. I think that was my last trip to the City. I’m not sure when I’ll go back again, but I will.
Last night I was on a boat, in my pearls & chucks, with a bunch of people who didn’t seem to care that history was about to be made. We saw some lovely views of Boston.
Thank goodness I made it home in time to see her speech live.
I truly felt like I was experiencing history in the making. I mean, come ON. She was phenomenal. Many tears were shed.
How could any American not choose Kamala Harris to lead the United States forward over the alternative—whose name does not even deserve to be in the same sentence as hers.
I am beyond excited that my granddaughter will be arriving into this new world, filled with hope and possibility.
Here I am earlier in the day yesterday with people who do care, very much, about what happened last night. We were thrilled to have a special guest with us. Funny, she didn’t seem nervous at all about the huge speech she was about to give.
“And to be clear, my entire career, I’ve only had one client: the people.” ~Kamala D. Harris, Democratic National Convention, 2024
I’ve never done a “Thankful Thursday” post before, but here goes.
I’m thankful for a solid house that does not leak. With hurricane season upon us, I’m reminded of past interior flooding — both in the home I grew up in and in the first house we bought after our daughter was born (a 150+ year old antique with a leaky fieldstone basement). I know there are worse things than standing ankle-knee deep in dirty brown water in your own basement, but I’m very thankful I haven’t had to do that in the past twenty years.
It is my understanding that Hurricane Ernesto has knocked out power for half of Puerto Rico (which still has not fully recovered from the devastating Hurricane Maria in 2017) and is gaining strength as it heads towards Bermuda. And hurricane season has only just begun…
Beautiful San Juan, Puerto Rico in August 2016, the year before Category Five Hurricane Maria
A name has been chosen, but not released. We know it’s two syllables and a bit “old fashioned” but it’s not a family name. Hmmmm….Hazel? (Nope) Alice? (Stop guessing)
A nurse asked…and was told! (she liked it). And it’s already on a baby hat!
What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?
OK, one reason I like my blog is that I feel free to say what I want, including about politics.
In the old days (before Trump), I thought Facebook and other emerging social media was fun. Find old friends and classmates, reminisce, post pics, share news, chat about nonsense, etc.
Then everything went to hell and I had real and permanent falling outs (fallings out?) with the Trumpers in my sphere, as did millions of others.
I’m still on Facebook, but I try not to post too many political things, with abortion access being an exception. (I will not shut my trap about that one until it’s no longer an issue or I’m dead.)
People who read and comment on my blog (and vice versa) are 99% online friends only. I will likely never meet them in real life. But there’s a freedom in that. They’re choosing to read my thoughts, and I theirs.
With 89 days left until we (hopefully) send Donald Trump packin’ for good, my Facebook and Instagram friends (all people I know or have known in real life) have my blog to thank for my relative level of self-control.
So, I can say this on my blog: I am loving the energy right now. From Kamala entering a packed and cheering rally to Beyoncé’s “Freedom” to the Tim Walz dad jokes. It’s soooo good. This is the kind of optimistic, joyful, caring country I want my granddaughter (coming soon) to grow up in.