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.
Boston skyline with Leader Bank Pavilion (aka Harborlights) on the far left
And…darkness
Completed in 2003, the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge (on the right side of photo) was named to honor the late Lenny Zakim’s civil rights and race relations work in Boston.Back in the dock at Rowe’s Wharf, the huge flag seemed symbolic. It was the final night of the epic 2024 Democratic National Convention. Kamala Harris was accepting our party’s nomination later that night.
“And, so, on behalf of the people, on behalf of every American, regardless of party, race, gender or the language your grandmother speaks. On behalf of my mother, and everyone who has ever set out on their own unlikely journey. On behalf of Americans like the people I grew up with — people who work hard, chase their dreams and look out for one another. On behalf of everyone whose story could only be written in the greatest nation on Earth, I accept your nomination to be president of the United States of America.”
~Vice President Kamala D. Harris, Democratic National Convention, August 22, 2024
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 bought an octopus from a glass blowing artist. She’s just under a foot tall.
Marcella
I hadn’t been planning to buy an octopus, but then I read the book “Remarkably Bright Creatures” by Shelby Van Pelt, a novel about a grieving woman and a one-eyed Giant Pacific Octopus named Marcellus. After that, I visited a glass studio where the artist makes all types of sea creatures, waves, shells and other things. I was a bit confused why all his octopi had two eyes. It turns out I was not the only one left a bit confused about this by the book:
As we walked back through the first floor of The Red Lion Inn to the elevator, I finally could speak to my friend Gail openly. “Do we believe this lady or what?” I should have known that a 251-year old hotel has only one elevator and that our new friend was headed to the exact same place we were. Although she had taken a slightly different route, she ended up right behind us. Hopefully she didn’t hear me say that!
She got into the elevator with us and we all smiled broadly and said how much we’d enjoyed our time together on the porch. The elevator stopped on the second floor and we said goodnight again as she got out. Gail and I rode up to the third floor and opened our antique door with the old key.
Before we were even inside our double room, we began plotting our Google searches. We figured it would take us about 60 seconds (2 minutes tops) to figure out if this woman was truly fascinating or full of shit. You see, Gail and I are advanced sleuths. She has a Master’s Degree in Journalism and I spent 30+ years in fundraising. Figuring out who people are, who they know, and how much money they have was all part of the job. (Private trusts and family foundations were my specialty.)
We jumped into our side-by-side beds and began checking her out. This was going to be fun! Well, two minutes went by and we hadn’t made much progress. We found one woman who looked a bit like her on Instagram and Gail sent a friend request.
We finally found the antique store owning daughter. She looked just like her mom in the photo. There was a bio of the daughter that said she’d been raised in western Massachusetts and Belgium by a British mother and German father. So all that was true!
We still couldn’t find anything on our new friend herself. What the heck? Were we spelling her last name wrong? It was a common-sounding last name, but spelled “the German way” she had said. (Neither of us studied German.) Finally, I found the daughter on Facebook. She had her maiden name in parentheses. A HA! We had been missing an S.
Then we found her. LinkedIn, Instagram and Facebook. There were videos of her on the land where she’s building her solar farm, on the Miami condo balcony, on her recent trip to Lake Como. It was all checking out. I even found the 990 (tax return) of her pediatric cancer foundation. It’s a legitimate charity.
Her bio on her Instagram profile says, “Entrepreneur, Life Coach, Neuroencoding Specialist, Sport Fanatik 🏀🔥🏈, Cruising 🛳️ addicted, Childhood Cancer Advocate 🎗️” and includes links to her foundation and her life coaching website.
So, it was all true. What a fascinating woman!
One mystery remained. The out-of-the-picture German engineer husband. Who was he and what happened to him? The next day Gail figured out his name and I learned that he had died four years ago. He was clearly older than her and a very big deal in plastics. One LinkedIn commenter described him as the “alpha one” of the industry. So…that explains where the money comes from, although we think they split up before he died.
We both followed our new friend on Instagram and Gail sent her a private message to which she responded, “It was such wonderful surprise and highlight of my trip meeting you and Mary too!! I hope we get to meet again!!”
So maybe we’ll see her again someday. Who knows? Life is short and fascinating people are hard to come by.
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