Boston

My dad came out as a huge Boston Red Sox fan a few years ago. You see, he was born in New London, Connecticut, and despite being a NAVY brat that traveled the US before settling in Virginia Beach, Virginia, he considers the north east United States to be his “home” territory. The baseball team of note in that part of the country is the Red Sox. As such, it has been his dream to visit Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox. This year my family decided to take him there.

We purchased airfare in March for late July, and began planning activities in and around the ballpark for a week in Boston. During the spring, it rained a lot there, and the fear was that we might have baseball games rained out, or general bad weather for the week. We simply had to wait and see. Shortly after deciding on the trip, my elder brother from Arizona agreed to fly to meet us, and with my wife and parents, the trip turned out to be a family affair. My sister couldn’t come, but she already was planning a trip with her daughters to our home territory in Virginia during the same week.

Along with Boston, we decided to take a day and travel to Groton, Connecticut, home of a submarine museum and the resting place of the USN 751 Nautilus, my grandfather’s first naval posting. We would be able to tour the submarine itself, and see where grandpa spent so much time at sea in the early days of his military career.

Finally the time came, and we prepared for the trip. Weather was still a bit uncertain, but we had tickets for two Red Sox games, and a few other things planned, and were determined to make the best of it. That we did!

One of the particulars of Boston is that it is a proper city, old and close quarters. That means there is a minimum of parking space, and a reliance on public transportation: buses, metro, trains, etc. Everyone walks, and it is a busy city at all times. This is something our family is not particularly used to, having grown up in a large metroplex in Virginia, and currently living in the Dallas-Fort Worth area in Texas. It was a bit of a learning curve to figure out the stops (and direction!) of the metro and bus schedules. Which arriving train did we need to get on? The green line or the blue line? Which side of the platform? I am sure the locals were a bit amused at us clear outsiders being confused, though no one actively pointed or laughed. However, on one occasion, when taking the train to see my friend Zach who lives an hour north of Boston, I was trying to ask if this was, in fact, the train to “Haverhill” only to have a conductor look at me in obstinate confusion. Eventually his partner responded that I was mispronouncing it, and that this was the train to “‘Aver’ill”. Yes, it was the train. No, I didn’t say it right. Thus assured, we boarded the train, and made it to see my friend and his family for the day. (Actually the story works better as an oral anecdote when I can affect the pronunciations. Oh well. You probably get the idea.)

Having (mostly) figured out the public transportation, I proceeded to rent a car. Actually, my wife and I were traveling next to the western-most side of Massachusetts to visit her aunt and cousin. We had a lovely drive through the countryside at the comfortable pace of 55 mph. This, too, was a bit of culture shock from Texas (my sister confirmed the same thing about Virginia while she was there): Texas speed limits on the highway are set to 70 mph, but everyone drives about 80 mph. In Massachusetts the speed limit is 55 mph, and everyone drives, well, about 55 mph. Actually the slower pace meant a slower heart rate and a relaxing (if longer) trip out west. After all, we arrived. And had a great time talking to and relaxing with my wife’s family.

Saturday was our first baseball game at Fenway, and another bit of transport “fun”. We rode the metro to the ballpark, the only sensible way to get there, but at each stop, we were squeezed tighter and tighter as more and more people packed into the train car to get to the game. A few uncomfortable minutes later, and we were there. The weather was beautiful, our seats were fantastic, and the ballpark was magical.

Fenway is the oldest operating Major League Baseball stadium, having been built in 1912! It feels properly aged in all the best ways. We sat that night on original wooden benches, and took in baseball the way it was meant to be seen: without many modern distractions. It was an emotional time to finally be in the place we had dreamed of visiting for so long. Fenway was everything I wanted it to be. And what’s more, the Red Sox handily beat the visiting Houston Astros, our Texas cross-state rivals that we never like to see win.

Speaking of emotions, they were heightened once again on Monday when we finally drove to Connecticut to visit the Nautilus. It was surreal to climb (literally) through hatches and over bulkheads and see the tiny spaces that my grandfather once inhabited. The galley, the kitchen, the stacked bunks, and the overall lack of space aboard the United States NAVY’s first nuclear submarine was an eye opening experience. My father said he had vague memories of being aboard when he was a youngster, though the sub understandably felt bigger then (though I imagine not by much). I wished the entire day that my grandfather was still alive to be able to accompany us to the submarine and tell us once more of his time beneath the waves. I longed to hear his voice telling us stories of “cat-and-mouse” games with the Soviet NAVY.

We finished the week with an early morning tour of Fenway Park, visiting, among other stops, the field and the Green Monster (a 37-foot tall left field wall with seats atop). We had an excellent tour guide, and it was well worth the extra cost to have a private tour, just us four (my wife declining the tour) and our guide. We learned so much history and heard many amusing stories along the way. That evening we watched a second game, and enjoyed another Red Sox win.

We had gorgeous weather all week (despite one night of rain while walking back from the metro station to our AirBnB), and it was disheartening to arrive back in Dallas to 90sF and high humidity after enjoying temps in the 70sF and beautiful breezes. Particularly pleasant was Sunday evening when we took a Boston harbor cruise. Seeing the skyline from the water was fun, and I was able to take plenty of great pictures (as I did throughout our time).

In all, the trip to Boston was everything I needed it to be: historical (both for the family and generally), relaxing, fun, and a little exasperating (oh! the metro!). I thoroughly enjoyed seeing my brother, spending quality time with my wife, and relaxing with my parents in a new city and making lifetime memories. I plan to put together a photo book of the pictures we took, which will be a great way to relive our time there and cherish the feelings.