The Bostonian Abroad

After 5 years of trying to like Hawaii and failing, we have finally gotten out of that terrible place. Sounds counter-intuitive to say it,"Hawaii sucks!" And those who have not lived there at the middle-class level or below it are never going to understand me when I say that Hawaii is a terrible place to live. I have written many times about it, so one can look over these previous posts to get a sense of the pain we suffered there, but still, those who refuse to believe that Hawaii could ever be miserable and hellish will forever say that I am insane or irretrievabley cynical. So be it. I tried to make friends there, and 99 percent of the locals would not allow it. I would try to smile in a friendly way and nod hello to strangers everywhere I went, but they always either ignored me entirely or gave me a cold, unmoving glance and not return any hint of friendliness. When I did make friends, it was with mainlanders like myself, who would always end up moving back to the mai...

Went back to Boston recently. It was more of a pilgrimage really. My accent came back with a vengeance, and I thoroughly enjoyed "awdarin a medium regulah at the DnD," eating what I call "Chinese food", and trekking around the "Nawth End" of Boston. The high point of the trip was, of course, Red Sox related!!! When I arrived in Boston, I immediately knew that I had arrived in the land of my people! Sox flags, hats, bumpah stickahs - the whole range of iconography, showing love for the home town team. It was so nice to be enfolded in the warm and loving embrace of Red Sox Nation!!! L and I took the green line into Kenmore to see if we could even get into Fenway to see a game. We saw a dude standing just outside the T station and we bought tickets, at 75 bucks a whack, to get decent seats in right field, home of the outsiders. At least I was in the frickin' place!!!! It was better than any amusement ride! I got a hat, ate a dog and drank a 6 dol...

The time has finally come to abandon this dreadful location, so the preparation has begun: Getting the house ready for sale. Scouting new places to live. Going home to recharge. Soon, hopefully, we'll be heading off to new adventures, to places where we have more opportunities, to places where we can feel more at home than we've ever felt here. What a contradiction it seems: to be so disdainful of such a place as this "paradise", but it is utterly true that the people are what ruin this place for us. The ignorance, the baseless superiority, the inflexibility and lack of professionalism, decency and courtesy - all of these aspects, coupled with the isolation and all its attendant costs, make for a very inhospitable place to live. The only thing now is the waiting to leave. I've distanced myself from friends; I've left already in my mind, and in my heart. It isn't necessarily the right thing to do, but it is happening nonetheless. This is the only...

I went to see "Fever Pitch" when they were holding a sneak preview at the local theatre (in an old pineapple factory), and I was struck by the level of fanatacism displayed by the accoutrements of the main character. But I wasn't struck as much by the ridiculous level to which his Sox mania soared, as by the stark, raving mad envy it caused in me. I want that stuff too! Ever since the ALCS, I have been thinking more and more about my beloved Sox. It is still amazing to me that they/we accomplished such legendary feats last october. I've become more and more rabid as each day passes. It started with t-shirts, then team jerseys, then flags, and now I am hungry for anything BoSox! I'm tempted to buy pins, placemats, pictures to hang, seat covers, car accessories and more . . . It is becoming an all-consuming desire! And I must admit to feeling a bit guilty. This happened during the post World Series celebration at our favorite pub. This guy comes up to me an...

To anyone thinking of moving out here, I have some advice: DON'T. But then, I ought to qualify this a bit. If you are rich or retired, and don't want to do much more than hang out at the beach, okay, this place is fine for you. If you are a young student who is physically active, and loves to party, okay, this is fine for you too. If you are a middle class commuter-type with a mortgage and a family, then disabuse yourself of the notion of ever living here. Living here requires a certain amount of nonchallantness about things like: Racism - It is everywhere, and it's all anti-white. (Mainland Haoles need not apply.) Intelligence - logic does not exist here, nor would they want such mainland ideology. Efficiency - It's true what they say about island life, infuriatingly true. Politeness - common courtesy does not exist in the land of "aloha"; try making your way through Pearl City Sam's Club, and you'll see what I mean. Professionalism - This was tosse...

Some of my earliest memories are of my first friend, Jimmy Hayes. He lived across the street on Burnside Ave. in Somerville. We used to go exploring, play pick up games of baseball, go to "John's Store" to get a bottle of Coke and a Ding Dong. Those days were magical for me. We'd play in the street all day and well into the night in the Summer time, and whenever someone would drive up our small side street, we'd all move off to the curb and yell, "ONE WAY!" In 1977, we moved away, to "the sticks", as we thought of it. Actually, it was only to Lynn, but it seemed to my 7 year-old mind, that it was the farthest thing from Somerville ever. For years after that, I would get someone to drive me back there once a year to visit with my old friends Timmy, and Jimmy, and to dirty-look Scott, who broke my watch in a fight one time. (My sister Debbie, beat him up in revenge, then beat up his big sister too!) Every once in a while, Jimmy would com...

I don't remember the specifics of a great many things. I do, however, remember where to locate these specifics when need be. And when referred to quite often, these items may or may not become permanently accessible to me, without the aid of external reference. The point is that a test does not reflect reality at all. When we are doing a job, we have access to all sorts of information-bearing devices. But for some reason, I'm sure, very powerfully laid out - full of sound and fury, signifying nothing - one is not permitted to have these devices during the test. One may only access the information stored within the cholesterol repository located in the skull of the test-victim's head. Why should we be forced to use only one memory storage and recovery device, when technology offers us so many additional options? Personally, I am embittered by my many varied and painful experiences with such traditional notions, and find them to be entirely without merit. They are obvio...