Boston, You're My Home

Hi Folks,

Reporting today from Boston, MA. It is sunny and cold with a stiff wind adding to a bodys displeasure with the elements. But sunny is the key word as those of you in the Great Northwest spend yet another day beneath the clouds. (My wife told me). But fear not, there is a sun out there and today it is located in Boston.

Boston is amazing. Historically Boston makes Seattle look like a petulant teenager, its existence dating back to the early 1600's. Great places to walk, eat and visit all of which in some way seem to be connected to the birth of our nation (or so they say). And the clam chowder (or chowda, as it is pronounced here) rivals that of our home state, at times besting it.

Everyone here speaks very loudly, ALL THE TIME. The town of Peabody is not pronounced Peabody. It is "Peebiddy", said very fast. Worchester is "Wooster", Boston is "Bawstin" and on and on. They love the Red Sox, hate the Yankees and swear by the Patriots. They hate BS and call it as they see it. I like these guys.

My grandmother and grandfather are products of Marblehead, an exclusive area just outside of Boston that was home to a large number of Irish immigrants at the turn of the 20th century. The life style in Marblehead went away but the Irish in my family remained as, in my youth, I continuously worked to understand my grandmother when she asked if the "Kah in the garawje had a good battry ". (Car in the garage had a good battery"). Or, if I were to inquire as to whether or not someone was from Irish descent, grandmother would reply ""Indeed, laddy, why he is as Irish as Patty's pig". You have got to love the Irish.

Boston is great. Visit if you get a chance. You will love it.

Off to Amsterdam today.