I often joke that I’ve left my heart in the other city by the bay, San Francisco.  But a part of my heart has always and will always be in Boston.  I was born and spent my first decade on Cape Cod, but I also consider myself a child of Boston.

In the 1970’s, nothing much happened on the Cape, from Labor Day to Memorial Day – if you wanted entertainment, you had to go to the mother ship.  We’d take a Greyhound bus into the city a couple of times a year – sometimes to see shows –  or to Boston Garden to see the Bruins play, sitting in the rickety old seats and smelling that stinky odor that only old buildings with no air conditioning can produce.   I saw the Ice Capades at the Garden and came within seconds of shaking Dorothy Hamill’s hand, as she greeted fans rink side.  Christmas shopping in the city.  I’ve commuted on the T and actually raced my friend Marcie, up and down the aisles, late at night.  I have viewed the city from the top of the Prudential Building.  I’ve walked the Freedom Trail.  I’ve ridden on the Swan Boats.  I’ve eaten in Quincy Market.  I’ve felt the quake of Fenway Park, when the fans go wild. Continue reading My Other City by the Bay →