10-08-2014, 11:41 AM
LAST NIGHT IN BOSTON
Started the morning with a drizzly walk around Lake Quannapowitt. I think I’m getting used to the incessant traffic noise that accompanies my stroll. I did notice however that the line of traffic stretches from Wakefield ave to the roundabout. This did not bode well for the trip to the airport tomorrow, since we would have to get in this line about this time.
My mother was meeting with her Radcliffe classmates at Toscano restaurant near Harvard square for lunch. Despite the fact we needed to move quickly, in order for my father and I to make our own lunch date, my mother continued her slow pace.
I let my father guide us to Cambridge only looking up the actual restaurant location. We had only one snafu on the way when my father said left when he meant right. I still got yelled at for not driving how he wanted.
Since my mother made us late, my father informed her we would be back at some indeterminate time in the future.
We were picking up lunch and meeting with my Aunt Eileen on Clifford street back in Melrose. We would pick it up at Kelly’s where they make a very expensive lobster roll sandwich. I was stunned when I saw the bill for the three of us would be $63. We were only getting three sandwiches!
As we left the restaurant, I noticed a message on my cel phone. My cousin Janet would be joining us as well. She wanted a sandwich, too.
Janet is currently going through the joy of breast reconstruction surgery following a double mastectomy. She had the first surgery about the time Cindi and I got married. She was the only cousin that was actively making plans to come when she got the diagnosis.
She tried to meet us the first time through Massachusetts but she was in too much pain to make the trip to dine with us. I was giving her a pass on this trip, too, since she still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. But she made the two hour drive up from Hingham, located south of Boston to join us for lunch.
We didn’t dawdle but we didn’t exactly hurry to finish up and head back to Cambridge. We cruised by Tufts so my father could see his Alma Mater. I heard more stories about vanished golf courses, frozen steps and the eight members in his chemistry class.
Our plan to make mom suffer failed miserably as she was still chatting by the time we picked her up.
For dinner we met up with my mom’s half of the family in the guise of Ralph McKenna, the youngest brother of my grandfather. We went to the North Ave Cafe, which my father didn’t have anything good to say about. It was on the short list of restaurants for my cousin Natalie. They did serve breakfast all day.
After complaint about my cousins eating habits, my father goes and has waffles with strawberries for dinner.
I barely know my Uncle Ralph. It is only recently that I even knew my grandfather had brothers and that I had a whole slew of McKenna cousins out there. I don’t know why my grandfather didn’t acknowledge his family.
The unusual story for the evening was the Uncle Ralph’s house had been broken into by David McKenna’s kids. This would be the same David McKenna who takes care of my grandfather’s house for my mother.
The kids were looking for things to sell so they could get money to feed their ongoing oxycontin addiction. You don’t get these sorts of stories from the Lynch side of the family.
After dinner, it was time to pack up and begin loading the car.
Started the morning with a drizzly walk around Lake Quannapowitt. I think I’m getting used to the incessant traffic noise that accompanies my stroll. I did notice however that the line of traffic stretches from Wakefield ave to the roundabout. This did not bode well for the trip to the airport tomorrow, since we would have to get in this line about this time.
My mother was meeting with her Radcliffe classmates at Toscano restaurant near Harvard square for lunch. Despite the fact we needed to move quickly, in order for my father and I to make our own lunch date, my mother continued her slow pace.
I let my father guide us to Cambridge only looking up the actual restaurant location. We had only one snafu on the way when my father said left when he meant right. I still got yelled at for not driving how he wanted.
Since my mother made us late, my father informed her we would be back at some indeterminate time in the future.
We were picking up lunch and meeting with my Aunt Eileen on Clifford street back in Melrose. We would pick it up at Kelly’s where they make a very expensive lobster roll sandwich. I was stunned when I saw the bill for the three of us would be $63. We were only getting three sandwiches!
As we left the restaurant, I noticed a message on my cel phone. My cousin Janet would be joining us as well. She wanted a sandwich, too.
Janet is currently going through the joy of breast reconstruction surgery following a double mastectomy. She had the first surgery about the time Cindi and I got married. She was the only cousin that was actively making plans to come when she got the diagnosis.
She tried to meet us the first time through Massachusetts but she was in too much pain to make the trip to dine with us. I was giving her a pass on this trip, too, since she still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. But she made the two hour drive up from Hingham, located south of Boston to join us for lunch.
We didn’t dawdle but we didn’t exactly hurry to finish up and head back to Cambridge. We cruised by Tufts so my father could see his Alma Mater. I heard more stories about vanished golf courses, frozen steps and the eight members in his chemistry class.
Our plan to make mom suffer failed miserably as she was still chatting by the time we picked her up.
For dinner we met up with my mom’s half of the family in the guise of Ralph McKenna, the youngest brother of my grandfather. We went to the North Ave Cafe, which my father didn’t have anything good to say about. It was on the short list of restaurants for my cousin Natalie. They did serve breakfast all day.
After complaint about my cousins eating habits, my father goes and has waffles with strawberries for dinner.
I barely know my Uncle Ralph. It is only recently that I even knew my grandfather had brothers and that I had a whole slew of McKenna cousins out there. I don’t know why my grandfather didn’t acknowledge his family.
The unusual story for the evening was the Uncle Ralph’s house had been broken into by David McKenna’s kids. This would be the same David McKenna who takes care of my grandfather’s house for my mother.
The kids were looking for things to sell so they could get money to feed their ongoing oxycontin addiction. You don’t get these sorts of stories from the Lynch side of the family.
After dinner, it was time to pack up and begin loading the car.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit