I spent the whole day, my only whole day in Boston, walking around Boston until the sun went down. I did not have my heavy coat, and my layers were not resistant to real cold and winds, which is Boston’s winter. But I pressed on as it was my plan to see some of Boston.
I watched as my transactions were published through my accounts, and there are no shanaggins on my credit cards or bank accounts. I did have a declined card when buying my annual fruitcake and fudge mailing. I did use the Visa for a few more (I have about four left to send out). I called AMEX, they said everything was in order, I paid the bar bill with AMEX, and there were no issues. I recall the same issue last year, it is on the fruitcake maker side, and I think it will clear. I picked up a few Christmas gifts on my trip, all small and easy to include in my luggage.
Breakfast was next door at the Elephant and Castle, and my waiter, Benjamin, recommended the Eggs Benedict. It was a good choice, but not as good as some. I ate that with some potatoes, which were good with some green onions, and wrote the blog. I got a few cups of coffee while I wrote.
The weather was going to be a challenge as it was going to rain, not the polite Oregon mist, and include some cold winds. I put on a sweater and hoped that my coat would be enough. It would not be. I was uncomfortable all day, but I did not let that stop me. I walked and walked to get an understanding of the area. I tried, for $11, the Boston Athenaeum Library, thinking it was another library I follow, but that one is in Providence, Rhode Island. I pay to see the collection, and it is interesting (and warm and dry). They have many plaster casts of classical sculptures from the 1700s into the early 1900s. There is even a marble here and there. All copies of classics that once were the thing to have in your home to show how cultured you were, here in New England. I saw two paintings that I have seen reproduced quite a few times, and now I know where the originals are. It was all interesting and not. I was not looking for plaster heads of our founding fathers (though they were in Jefferson’s house), but still, it was worth it. I saw a graveyard next to the place, but now it was cold and drizzling, meaning I thought it best to delay that visit or skip it altogether.
I walked a few blocks and found the Massachusetts State House, the one in use, and entered through the General Hooker entrance with a life-sized horse and general in bronze. “May God have mercy on General Lee, for I will have none,” the general is reported to have said. He was defeated by Lee (often), and one of the worst (Chancellorsville) defeats encouraged Lee to try to end the war by invading the North, leading to the Battle of Gettysburg (Hooker was relieved before that battle started and replaced by Meade). But he was remembered well by the troops, and history had been kind to Hooker.
As I walked towards the general, I was stopped by some protesters who, having paused their protest, were happy to direct me to the capital and suggested I skip the tour and just walk the place. I took their advice after passing security and found the place a cold marble-filled maze. The white marble, high ceiling, and extra bright light made the place feel emotionally cold. But the security and folks at the desks welcomed me with smiles and told me to just walk in and look around. They are proud of their building and that it is open to the public, like people like me, just walking in.
With some backtracking, I found the Senate and House (most states echo the bicameral design of the Federal Government, though Massachusetts, not a state but a commonwealth, though treated as a state at the Federal level, and has been in existence before the US) and the Governor’s Office. There, I told the staff I was originally from Michigan, and they proudly pointed to the Mitt Romney painting, still remembered as a popular and successful governor (and the security guard remembered Mitt, and we both agreed Mitt was his happiest here).
I found the bookstore that offered, for a small price, various official documents, but no postcard of the State House. I found one that said ‘Massachusetts’ and ‘Boston’ and bought it for $1.06. Massachusetts is infamous for its taxes (“Tax-a-chusetts”). The protestors, now drenched by the rain, were happy to see me and asked what I liked. They offered me various protest materials about the evils of the petroleum industry, but when they learned I was from Oregon and drove an EV, they were satisfied I was one of them. They offered to take my picture in front of the State House, having plenty of pictures already, I demurred. They were happy to have someone to talk to; I think they get mostly ignored.
Leaving and waving to the protestors, looking odd with the giant horse and general beside them, I headed to someplace warm. They reminded me of Hooker’s optimism; I wish them success (with low casualties). I stopped at the Old Meeting House and bought a ticket for both the Old Meeting House and the Old State House. A staffer met me, happy to have a customer; she later told me that winter is hard as they have so few visitors.
The Old Meeting House is a church, and here the plot for the Boston Tea Party was hatched, not at a government or the more formal King’s Chapel nearby, but here in the rented pews and benches in a fiercely independent, anti-iconoclastic protestant meeting hall. I felt at home. My guide covered her favorite items. I loved the horseshoe the British found later. The occupying troops wrecked the meeting house and turned it into a riding arena. My guide pointed out the statue of a man, a normal-looking shoemaker, who was there for the meeting, the Party, and later events. She pointed out the few remaining structures that survived the remodels and the British troops, a pew and a staircase. Plus the outside walls. We talked about slavery (she had just graduated in African Studies), and she pointed out that most folks remember the abolitionists and not the fact that slavery started here in Massachusetts before the South. Here were the first slave owners in the colonies and the first place to abolish slavery.
I thanked her and hoped to be back (the rain turned heavy, and I returned, soaked, to my hotel room instead). King’s Chapel, built in the 1600s, was open for music today. I walked the short distance there and was happy to find the church was well-heated. I donated the recommended $5 to the player and spent thirty minutes walking around the building. There were informational signs in place, and I did my self-guided touring, which today would be about. The pews are boxes, like in the Old Meeting House, and families rented them. Paul Revere’s 33 box was near the Governor’s, and the bell was made in his shop (though not by him). He described it as some of their best work, with a “Sweat” sound. One pew box was from the judge who ruled on Dred Scott. Another Wordsworth mentioned his distaste for abolitionists. George Washington had sat in the Governor’s Pew during a concert.
And while the massive organ sounded lovely, but the selection was 1700s holiday music that had me nod off once. I suspect that was why the pews were so well-padded. While the pulpit is the oldest in use in the USA (recovered from the previous church), I imagine the pastor would see many listeners resting. Though old, the building was constructed from the remains of an older church. I will not make the crypt tour and other interesting options, but maybe for a later trip.
The wet was cold, and my coat was soaked, but I managed to walk to the Old State House and did another self-guided tour. And while the material was interesting (including a cannonball found on/in Bunker Hill and a hat that was likely worn at the Tea Party), I was sad to see that the interior had been replaced. Still, it was interesting.
I walked, in the increasing cold and rain, to the graveyard I had seen earlier. It holds the graves of Franklin’s parents and many other Founding Fathers, including John Hancock and Samuel Adams. I was cold and wet too, and I quickly walked out.
I located another used bookstore, Brattle Book Shop, and decided to endure the cold again. I stopped at a coffee place (it was one of the Christian-focused The Well Coffee Houses, which I usually avoid, but I was cold) before I headed out. Slighly drier, I walked six or more blocks to the theater area outside of the Finance District, where I was staying at the Club Quarters Hotel.
The theater was all lit up, and the Christmas lights around Macy’s looked ready for the snow (which never appeared as it just rained). I found the bookstore around a corner, three stories of used books and prints. They had posters of their best books, marked “Sold” for huge prices. Wow!
I found a few books on WW1 that I liked. I added a murder mystery and then paid $10 to ship them home. I did walk up to the second floor, and there were interesting items there, but the rare book floor was a treasure of cool old stuff. I was so tempted by a Civil War set that has wonderful pictures. I remember seeing it in my school library and loving to look through it. I remember seeing a photo in the book that showed, among other things, the wreck of the CSS Virginia blocking the James River. The wreck was partially salvaged; parts of the ship are in Richmond. The rest was dredged, like many Civil War river wrecks, and lost.
Resisting the $250 price tag for the set, I returned to the cold, wet, and reached my hotel, where I dried out.
I called Deborah a few times. We said good night.
Somewhere in the evening, I was again at Elephant and Castle for a drink and then dinner. I had planned to try somewhere else, but it was raining hard, and the wind was blowing. I tried the curry as the bartender said it was excellent. It was excellent Butter Chicken with pita bread filling in for naan and rice. The bar was loud and friendly, and I talked to a few folks visiting and listened to the bartender’s worries that Christmas was coming too soon. His wife was setting up the tree that night with his son.
I was in my room, asleep, before midnight local time. I slept the night through and woke just before my alarm. My dreams are forgotten, but I remember they were pleasant. I dreamed, remembering now, that I weighed myself and had lost weight — only in my dreams!
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 