Boston doesn’t get any better than this.
Tag Archives: Boston
Double rainbow over Fenway Park
We were at the Fenway Fantasy Day yesterday, and saw this:
Here’s something we couldn’t have imagined back in the 20th century–three World Series trophies, just sitting on a table waiting to be photographed:
Here’s the view from just above the Green Monster seats, just next to the foul pole made famous by Carlton Fisk’s game-winning home run in the 1975 World Series:
OK fine, here is that home run, long before there were seats up there:
Finally, here’s the classic form of our nephew Neil, who didn’t hit the foul pole but did loft one close to the warning track. I was impressed:
I have started watching season 3 of “Ray Donovan,” which brings to mind again the current rage for Boston accents in the media. Here is Seth Myers’ trailer for “Boston Accent”, the movie — directed by Ben Affleck, probably.
Myers spent a chunk of his childhood in Bedford, New Hampshire, so he knows a bit about the accent. The thing he gets wrong in the trailer, though, is making fun of Brits who try to do the accent. In “Ray Donovan,” Eddie Marsan, who plays Terry, is from London, and he has a pretty good accent. Paula Malcomson, who plays Abby, is from Belfast, and I’d swear she was from Southie. (I love the way she calls her son Conor “Cawn-uh”.) Maybe it’s so foreign to them, they know they have to work at it.
The winter of our discontent needs some flowers
The commuter boat from my little town got stuck in the ice in Boston harbor yesterday morning.
Later, parts of the roof collapsed at the grammar school that our kids attended.
Last night, a couple of guys we hired spent two hours in near-zero weather clearing our roof to prevent it from collapsing after the snow and freezing rain that’s coming tonight.
We need to see some flowers from Tom Whelan. Like a New England aster:
And a bouganvillea:
We will ignore all his very fine photos of ice crystals.
This is my last snow poem
The South Shore of Massachusetts, where I live, seems to have caught the brunt of the latest in our endless stream of snowstorms. Here’s my backyard, with the snow almost up to the top of that fence.
And here’s my driveway, looking across to my neighbor’s driveway:
Once upon a time I liked snow and I posted poems about it. Well, I just have one poem left. It was written by my son, back when he was young and cute and innocent, before we all learned about how evil snow is. It’s called “First Snow”:
I enjoy the first snow,
Even when other don’t,
The benches are layered white,
Everything changes overnight,
Snow puffed out like cotton candy,
Untouched by human feet,
Everything is perfect,
After the first snow.
He now needs to write a sequel called “Eleventy-First Snow” or something. Let’s find out how perfect everything is then.
I have never lived more than twenty miles away from Boston. I was born and raised there. I went to high school in the Boston neighborhood known as Dawchestuh — the same school where Whitey Bulger’s brother, Billy Bulger, also went. (In Boston, Dorchester Avenue is invariably referred to in speech as “Dot Ave.”) When I went off to college, I manage to travel all the way to Cambridge, one city to the north, where I once actually did pahk my cah in Hahvid Yahd. (That’s not really a thing they let you do.)
When people become aware of this sad fact about me, their first response is usually: “But you don’t have a Boston accent!” And that’s true. But, like any Bostonian, I notice when actors don’t get the accent right. Which is more often than not. But it’s never been clear to me that this is because the accent is, well, hahd, or because I’m just so attuned to it. Do people from Louisiana grouse about the accents in True Detective? What do folks from Baltimore think when they watch The Wire?
Here’s an interview with a Boston-area casting director (about fifteen minutes into the episode), who says the Boston accent is one of the hardest ones to get right. But I think she underestimates the difficulty in a few ways:
- She says most actors, like Jack Nicholson in The Departed, are inconsistent about dropping their R’s. But I think sometimes actors are too consistent. The casting director herself pronounced lots of R’s, but she was consistent in saying “hahd” and “heah”, which is what you want.
- She neglects to mention another aspect of the Boston accent — putting in R’s where they don’t belong. This is the biggest temptation I have: for example, my first instinct is to say “I sawr it” instead of “I saw it.” (I can remember way back when I was learning to read, being puzzled when I saw that sentence in print for the first time — what happened to the R that I clearly heard everyone say?) A somewhat lesser temptation is to say “dater” instead of “data”.
- Finally, there’s more than one Boston accent. In movies you typically hear the straight-on streets-of-Southie accent. The actress who plays the wife on Ray Donovan does a good version of this (she’s from Belfast). The Kennedys, of course, have their own weird version of the accent. And there’s a different patrician version that you don’t hear much anymore. But most people I know just have the merest trace of an accent — just enough to make it clear where they’re from.
Although most of my novels are set in or around Boston or have Boston characters, I’ve never been tempted to try to do a Boston accent in print. Just too distracting for the reader. You just have to imagine the accent is there.
Red Sox nation goes international
Mr. Ortiz sums things up
If you’re David Ortiz, you get to say what everyone else is thinking.
And the FCC doesn’t have a problem. The chairman tweets:
David Ortiz spoke from the heart at today’s Red Sox game. I stand with Big Papi and the people of Boston.
The recent release of the movie 42 reminds us of the shameful history of the Red Sox and black baseball players. Now this guy from Santo Domingo is the heart of the team and the city.
After Mr. Ortiz’s oration, Mr. Nava gave the Red Sox their seventh straight win. Didn’t I say the Red Sox were going to have a great season?
Love that dirty water
What’s been happening in your corner of the world?
There is white-cap guy, apparently — sans backpack, turning the corner from Boylston onto Fairfield after the explosion.
I worked for a decade on the corner of Beacon and Fairfield, four blocks away. I can’t tell you how many times I saw this view, looking up Beacon Street towards the Lenox Hotel.
It’s not going to be easy to get over this.