I LOVED BOSTON (MOST OF THE TIME)

Before I begin - a tip ... If a message you don't understand pops up on your computer screen, it may be the work of a hacker who wants your personal information, so, I suggest that you either talk about it with a computer expert or shut your computer down without responding. (IMHO)

I wish I had been smarter, but I let a hacker control my computer (and I worked with computers for forty years.)  I experienced lots of stomach churning before my wonderful kids saved me.

Our Boston Adventure

I've mentioned most of this in a blog entry several years ago. This is an update.

Housing

In order to get to Boston University (BU) each day, I had to commute for a total of 100 miles. The commute time combined with my part-time job was affecting my sleep and study time, so my wife and I decided to move to Boston.

The BU Relocation Office helped us find a place to live and we agreed to one of their suggestions.

We met a pleasant-looking middle-aged gentleman who had split the first floor of his large brownstone house.  He would occupy the front part and we would occupy the back half that featured a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and a large screened-in back porch

Our landlord's front rooms were interesting. He had busts of famous classical composers along the walls and in front of a bay window was a shiny grand piano on which he held piano lessons and practiced for his part in one of Boston's musical outfits.

We signed the lease late at night so we did not get a chance to see what the backyard looked like before we moved in with our miniscule luggage.  But the next morning we took a look.

We could not believe what we saw.  Directly in back of our lodging was a clear space, but further back and around three sides was garbage of all types piled in stacks, with narrow paths between the stacks!

We had never seen anything like this before. Apparently, our landlord was the only area resident who paid for garbage pickup. I pitied the poor garbageman who had to navigate the narrow lanes every week.  

Because of our nonrefundable contract fee and reasonable rent, we decided that we would stick around for a while.  We rolled down the screen curtains and pretended ignorance of the situation.

Until Elaine's father was meeting in Boston and wanted to see us when he was through. We panicked. If he saw our backyard he would "blow a gasket."  Which was what happened when he insisted on opening a screen curtain and looked out upon the garbage dump.

He wanted us to move back home, and we said we would when my current semester ended.  Meanwhile, we held our noses, avoided looking at rats, and survived for two more months.

First time using Boston transportation from this location.

From our new lodgings I had to follow this plan to get to Boston University.  Take a bus to the nearest El (Elevated) station.  Ride the El to a subway station. Ride the subway to the "stop" nearest BU. (Almost as long as the commute from New Bedford!)

On this day, as I got on the El, a lady grabbed me and said, "I've caught you Mr. Mystery."  Later, on the subway platform another lady grabbed me and said' "I've got you, Mr. Mystery."

After I pried myself loose and assured them that I wasn't the mysterious Mr. Mystery, I finally  realized why they were accosting me.  

A Boston radio station was having a contest.  One of their announcers would be traveling around the city and if you recognized and grabbed that Mr. Mystery. you could win a big prize.

I was in a suit and I was wearing those expensive sunglasses that I had won from Willy the Cheater a few years ago in Germany. (That is another story.)  I took off the "shades" and nobody bothered me again.

I still wear those "shades" once in a while.

Goodbye, Boston

Nobody needs to have an automobile in Boston.  Public transportation is good, and besides Boston drivers are notorious for not honoring stop signs and for "running" red lights.  Why take a chance on getting plowed into or being run over?

Our brownstone apartment had no parking spaces and one could not park on the street in front.  However there appeared to be no restrictions on side-street parking, so I parked our car there, in front of a vacant lot and forgot about it.

One evening we got a call that Elaine's beloved grandmother had died and the funeral was the next day.  We dried our tears and hurried to our parked car anticipating a quick drive home.

The car was gone!

I reported the assumed theft to the police and they told me it had been impounded.  A "busybody" had called the police because she thought it might be the getaway car for a recent bank robbery.

We hurried to the Impound Lot and spoke with a red cheeked cop with a heavy Irish brogue. After we convinced him that the car was ours, he said we could retrieve it after paying a $20 fine.

Elaine had $2 in her purse.  I had $5 in my wallet.

"Sorry," said the cop.  "Come back when you have enough money."

Now, Elaine started to sob and it touched that Irish cop's heart.  He said, "if you let me hold something of value, you can take the car and pay me later."

She did not want to do it, but she knew it was the only solution, so she gave her wedding ring to the officer. Off we went. (Elaine got her ring back unharmed later after we paid him the $20, which, incidentally, was a lot of money back in the 1960's.)

We got home in time for the "viewing."  The next day I served as one of the pallbearers  at the funeral mass at Saint Joseph's Catholic Church. Before, during and after the service, the Monsignor waved a heavily=scented incense holder over my head!  

Did he guess that I wasn't Catholic?

Soon after this, we moved back to New Bedford and my long commute.

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