On certain days, when the sky is clear and the breeze is both cool and warm, the best place to sit is on the steps of a Boston brownstone, watching the world walk by. It was at such a place that Skip and I found ourselves closing out the last afternoon of this BroSox Adventure, drinking a cocktail and the last couple of beers while shooting the shit and recounting the memorable “moments of demarcation” for this trip.
Carrying a pair of cocktails outside, not even bothering to slip on any shoes, we began a round of stoop gazing. I used to do this all the time, and I don’t know how or why I’ve neglected it for the past few years. (Well, part of it was the weather – we haven’t had any that would comfortably allow for us to stay out on the front steps until now.) This entire weekend was ripe for the gazing. You see a lot of humanity – the best and worst of it (such as the ridiculously obnoxious, over-the-top guy on his cel phone screaming ‘Copley Square’ over and over to some hapless friend, and the super-friendly woman who lived around the corner, opining these crazy bike groups that always gathered at the end of Braddock Park) while staring out from the stoop.
It’s one of the nicest places to be people watching, because you can quickly step into the comfort of your own home at a moment’s notice. It was also one of the first things that I loved about the South End: on any given summer night you could find at least a few people mingling on their front steps, sharing a bottle of wine, engaging in casual conversation with all who passed. How strange that such neighborly friendliness was easier found in the city than certain suburban neighborhoods I’ve frequented.
A woman who would pass by numerous times smiled up at us. “Morning!” I said brightly, forgetting it was already 5 PM. She laughed. “Merry Christmas!” Skip shouted. (I got body-bagged, as the stupid say.) None of these jokes will land with as much laughter as when it happened, but this is less for everyone and more for my own memory. Fitting, as it was about this time when Skip explained how Jack would sometimes get upset when he neared the end of a vacation weekend or an event that he had looked forward to for a while, even before it was over. I understood the feeling, as this BroSox Adventure is always a highlight of the year, and it always flies by too quickly.
We stayed on the stoop a little while longer. The fountain sprinkled sounds of falling water in the middle of the street. The Chinese dogwood swayed slightly in the flimsiest of breezes. An idyllic afternoon seamlessly shifted into an idyllic evening. In the near distance, the top of the Marriott Hotel and the Hancock Tower still gleamed in the sunlight.
“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.†~ Ogden Nash
