A sweet friend of mine took me out last night, because I had scored a “kicthen pass.” We went to a Celtics game, and experiended all that comes with it . . . packing ourselves like sardines on the Green line, watching people do anything they can think of, short of throwing their babies in the air, to get themselves noticed on the Jumbotron. Here’s my confession as a Bostonian. I have lived in this great city for 8 years, and have never been to a Celtics game. Blasphemy, I say! With great embarassment, I also confess that I have never been on a Duck Tour, experiened a bruins game, a swan boat ride, or the famous St. Patrick’s Day Parade. If it’s any consolation, I have, however, walked the entire freedom trail, drank a frosty Sam Adams the only place in the world where you are in full view of Sam Adams (across from the graveyard of course), and most importantly, I’ve been to Fenway countless times.
Going to this Celtics game with Kim, I realized that, in Boston, we truly ARE a city that hangs onto hope. The poor team was losing by over 20 points the entire game, and the majority of the fans kept cheering and supporting thinking that there might be a glimmer of possibility in a stradium shrouded with Championship Banners. Unlike the Red Sox games I’ve been too, there wasn’t a lot of heckling, even when COUNTLESS foul shouts were missed . . . and the team of 5 year olds at halftime had made them all, including some three pointers.
I am so glad that Jackson has this time in Boston, however long it may be. He has access to so many museums, parks, sporting events, and people – people that are different than any other placed I’ve lived or visited. For good for bad, he will be raised a Bostionian, balanced with a little softness that comes from spending weekends in the western part of the state of course.
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