Walking Along the Brigham Pike

If you’re in Boston, when is the Pike not the Mass Pike, the section of Interstate 90 which travels across Massachusetts?

When my husband and I entered Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston for preoperative surgery meetings, we were directed to the “Pike,” a long corridor on the second floor of the hospital. “Take exit 6 off the Pike,” the woman at the information desk said. Curious, we followed her directions to the second floor and onto the Pike where signs direct the traveler to various departments (neurology, phlebotomy) and to bridges connecting the hospital to other area hospitals via above ground passageways. You can shop on the Pike, access the cafeteria, and pick up your prescriptions at the pharmacy.

As my husband prepared, endured, and recovered from hip replacement surgery, we traveled from rural suburbia into the city of Boston’s medical maze, where several big name hospitals care for patients while teaching future doctors in what is called the Longwood Medical Area.  Beth Israel Deaconess, Boston Children’s Hospital, Dana Farber Cancer Institute, Joslin Diabetes Center, New England Baptist, and Brigham and Women’s Hospital are all within a few blocks, not too far from Fenway Park, Simmons College, and the Museum of Fine Arts.

Two weeks later, I was back at the Brigham, this time, avoiding the Pike. After leaving my husband at 7:30 a.m. in the preoperative staging area, I checked in at the Robert and Ronnie Bretholtz Center for Patients and Families (Bretholtz Center) where I was given a buzzer (just like the ones restaurants give you while you wait for a table). I found a cozy chair in an unoccupied alcove and waited while the doctors worked, reading a book by Dennis Lehane. Complete with a library, computers and printers, knitting, games, and TVs, I found the Bretholtz Center a comfortable and comforting place to wait. I was told when surgery was complete and soon received a phone call from the doctor to hear the details. All went well.

I was back at the hospital the next day, just for a visit I thought, but 2 hours later, we were driving home, my husband, his new hip, and me.

Hurricane Sandy West of Boston

We hunkered down in our small town of Stow, 30 miles west of Boston, bracing for whatever Hurricane Sandy would bring. School was canceled. The kids were home. The cabinets were full of food and the basement with bottled water. (We have a well and if the electricity goes out, so does the water.) We replaced batteries in flashlights, did the laundry, and waited. It wasn’t until late afternoon that the winds picked up. We sat in our sunroom watching the big pine trees around our house bending over in the high winds, the sliding glass door bulging as the wind hit it just right. Pine branches flew past the windows on the first and second floors and rain pelted the glass.

When the lights finally did go out, we lit candles and started playing a game, but the power was only out for about 45 minutes.

Would school be canceled another day? My kids checked the school website continuously as erroneous postings on Facebook raised and lowered their hopes of another day at home. Finally, the school appeared on the list of closings but only for a delayed start. I wondered how anyone could make a decision before daylight. Five minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive, school was canceled for the day. Wires and trees were down, and roads were closed.

I left the kids at home and ventured out and down roads littered with leaves and debris.

Yellow and red leaves still clung to a few of the trees in spite of the powerful winds the night before.

I saw a few downed trees and fallen structures and took my turn at an intersection where the traffic lights didn’t work.

At home, I picked up branches and righted and replanted a small fallen tree. Halloween was canceled in our town for the second year in a row (last year we had snow!) and rescheduled for Sunday. But we’re not complaining. The storm changed path, and this time we were lucky.

Seaweed and Lobsters

Have you ever been to a New England clambake? Not just a lobster boil or a barbeque, but a real clambake where lobsters and clams are steamed by seaweed sitting on very hot rocks. In case you haven’t been lucky enough to have the experience, here’s how it works:

First you dig a big pit.

Next you add some large rocks, about the size of a basketball, along the bottom of the pit.  Then place wood on top of the rocks and  start a fire. The idea is to heat up the rocks so they are very, very hot.  This means the fire has to burn for several hours.

Meanwhile, soak the wooden baskets which will contain the lobsters so they won’t burn.

When the stones are good and hot, it’s time to start the cooking. Cover the entire pit with seaweed.

Add the live lobsters and steamers to the water soaked baskets and set them in the pit on top of the seaweed. Add potatoes or corn on the cob (in their husks) if desired, though in our experience, corn often takes on the flavor of the seaweed.

Cover the seaweed with one or two tarps to keep in the steam. And start counting.

According to our experts, it takes 47 minutes and 30 seconds to steam the lobsters.

Carefully, remove the tarps and uncover the baskets. The seafood is now ready to eat.

Be sure to serve the lobsters and steamers with melted butter, lemon, crackers and picks. Additional food items often include: potatoes, corn on the cob, clam chowder, corn bread, cole slaw or green salad. Serve with the beverage of your choice. For dessert, we like to follow our lobster with s’mores over a separate campfire (not over the pit!).

Enjoy!

Up, up, and away!

It’s 6 a.m. on a Sunday the end of August, and I am in one of two hot air balloons rising up over a small town in Massachusetts with the pilot, Rudi of Dragon Fire Balloon Adventures, my husband, and my teenage son.  We are in Lucy, one of Rudi’s two hot air balloons, this one featuring a tie dye design and formally called Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

 

The sun has just risen; the air is cool and still. So still, in fact, that at first we don’t go anywhere except straight up. The cars and planes and people get smaller and smaller as we rise to about 900 feet.

We can see beyond the airport to more trees and houses and hills in the distance. We watch as the other balloon moves further west while we hang out above the runway.

It is peaceful up here in the sky. There is no sound except for the noise of the burner and the occasional sounds of our voices.

Rudi expertly controls the hot air flow and lets us down a little, hoping to catch a breeze at a different altitude to move us away from the airport and beyond, and slowly we do move, now just above the trees and telephone wires, now just above the houses.

We check out the landscaping designs, the decks and patios and discover what’s hidden behind some of those houses.

We watch our reflection in a pond full of lilypads and touch down on a nearby road to change passengers. While the crew holds the basket, our teenage son gets out and our teenage daughter gets in.

And up we go again, followed by the chase vehicles, as we travel not as high but further with the wind.

We see deer, startled by the inconsistent noise of the fire’s hot air.

We pass over conservation land and farm fields and more houses, finally landing in someone’s front yard at the end of a cul-de-sac.

As we wait for the chase vehicles to arrive with our crew, we notice that no one is home. The pool is covered, the shutters closed. They will miss the thrill of a hot air balloon in their front yard and the complimentary bottle of champagne.

We are watched by the neighbors as we help the crew pack up the balloon, quickly and efficiently, and head back to the airport where we join the other balloon’s crew and passengers for our own champagne.

To learn more about hot air balloons and how they work, click here.

Trip taken August 2012.

Visiting the Cape Cod Potato Chip Factory

Accompanied by a few 14-year old girls, I arrived at the Cape Cod Potato Chip Factory at 3 p.m. on a Friday afternoon in June and followed the signs.

Once inside, we said hi to the women at the reception desk and walked down a narrow hallway, reading the signs and peering through windows.

We saw potatoes falling through a chute and on conveyer belts. We watched as workers grabbed random samples of potatoes potato chips and more potato chips, but we weren’t allowed to take any photos. We learned that it takes a lot of potatoes (4 pounds) to make only 1 pound of potato chips, and we observed the chips being weighed and packaged.

At the gift shop, we were given free samples (sea salt and vinegar and sweet mesquite barbeque) and bought two bags for lunch the next day (feta and rosemary and 40% less fat).

Located at 100 Breed’s Hill Road in Hyannis, Mass., the factory is open for free self-guided tours Monday through Friday, 9 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Trip taken June 2012.

Bolts and Delayed Fireworks in Boston

The sky was ablaze in Boston and Cambridge last night, with lightening bolts and cameras flashing while the moon rose. The late night sky was patriotic with the red shooting lights of flares, the red, white and blue lights on the Prudential Center, and fireworks appearing now and then above and beyond the Boston skyline.

Although thunderstorms were predicted all day, my family decided to take our chances and head into Cambridge to see the fireworks and to listen to the Boston Pops. Equipped with folding chairs, a picnic, blankets, games and books, we arrived around 3 p.m. and staked our claim next to the railing along Memorial Drive.

We were as close to the river as we could get without being on it and for the next several hours we hung out, chatting, people watching, meeting our 4th of July neighbors, playing games of Uno and Hearts. We read and ate and explored, amazed at all the state police and the people staking claim to bits of grass and pieces of sidewalk.

It was hot and muggy. Kids jumped off boats into the water (yes, they swam in the Charles River!), the event organizers allowed people to keep their tents up longer than usual (as late as 7:30 p.m.), and we bought root beer floats.

At 8:20 p.m., the concert began as scheduled with the “Star Spangled Banner” performed by the U.S. Navy Sea Chanters. From speakers along Memorial Drive, we heard the Pops perform “Olympic Fanfare” and the themes from “E.T.” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark” as lightening brightened the Cambridge skyline.

We listened to the Dropkick Murphys and Jennifer Hudson and to “Dancing Queen” by Mamma Mia vocalists, but we didn’t hear the “1812 Overture.” At 9:25 p.m., a public safety announcement asked us to take cover from the storm. Some did, but we didn’t, hoping the rain would never come.

Thirty minutes later, the rain still hadn’t arrived and the bolts had subsided. The Pops began to play, “Stars and Stripes Forever,” the last scheduled song on the program. People pushed up behind us, everyone eager to get the best view of the anticipated fireworks. Jennifer Hudson sang another song, and the U.S. Navy Sea Chanters sang a few patriotic songs before the music stopped.

After a long pause,  both the fireworks and the rain began. We leaned against the railing, ooohing and aaahing the fireworks between rain drops, kaleidoscope designs of every color and shape, hearts and boxes and shooting stars, the bang of each blast competing with the 4th of July playlist.

When the fireworks were over, my almost 16-year old son said the hours of waiting were worth it; we followed the masses to the T and back to our car.

Oink for Ice Cream

“Oink,” five 13-year olds said in unison, in eager anticipation. Over the counter, the bright eyed young woman’s face lit up. She clanged the bell and told her boss, “It’s an oink!”

Fingers pointed as mouths salivated, voices escalating with excitement and anticipation. Eyes watched the bowl of ice cream grow bigger with each request. Scoops of peppermint stick and coffee, bubblegum and mint, chocolate and vanilla, butter pecan and coconut, chocolate chip and peanut butter, strawberry and blackberry were drowned with hot fudge and butterscotch, sprinkled with candy, and squirted with whipped cream.

Five 13-year olds with five spoons perched around the small ice cream parlor sized table, hovering and tasting, slurping and swallowing, each determined to taste her favorite flavor. They laughed and giggled, jostled and cried out, as spoons reached across the table, and ice cream spilled and oozed melting stickiness and sweetness.

In minutes, it was gone. The bowl, the mess. The napkins and spoons thrown away. Only a few flavors lingering on messy lips; the experience eagerly anticipated now only a sweet memory and a hope for the next visit to the Vineyard. You can get an oink at Mad Martha’s Island Cafe, located on Martha’s Vineyard in Oak Bluffs, Edgartown, and Vineyard Haven.

Trip taken 2011.

A Day in the Life of Little Women

“ ‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,’ grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.” After reading the first sentence of “Little Women” I was hooked. I was 8 years old and a book worm, and though my mom told my teacher I was too young, I read and finished Louisa May Alcott’s book in third grade. I memorized and acted out the first scene with my third grade friends; Mary was Meg, Deanne was Beth, Michelle was Amy, and I was Jo. But it wasn’t until 4th grade that I discovered the book was somewhat autobiographical and that Jo was really Louisa.

A couple of weeks ago, I visited Orchard House where Louisa lived with her sisters, Anna, Beth, and May, and where “Little Women” was written. Located in Concord, Mass., Orchard House is a museum for lovers of books, of Louisa May Alcott, and especially of “Little Women.” You can see the desk Louisa’s father built for her, May (Amy)’s paintings on the walls, Beth’s piano, and in the month of May, you can see Anna (Meg)’s wedding dress.

After perusing the other books written by Alcott in the museum’s gift store, my daughter, her cousins, and I ate lunch at the French cafe La Provence on Thoreau Street,

before watching a performance of “Little Women” by the Concord Players at 51 Walden. The play was true to the book, at least as I remember it, full of joys and sadness as well as morals and life lessons.

If you missed the performance, you’ll have to wait another 10 years.  A tradition begun in 1932, the Concord Players has performed “Little Women” every 10 years, missing only 1942 due to World War II.

Exploring Amherst

We explored Amherst the other day, my kids and I. It was school vacation, and equipped with directions, a map, and gluten-free food recommendations from the internet, we set off, arriving in the town of Amherst around 11 a.m.

With its white outlined brick buildings, tree lined streets, abundance of colleges (there are five nearby), eateries, and bookstores, it’s easy to see why the town of Amherst has been voted one of the best college towns in  the U.S. more than once.

After parking in front of Amherst College’s gym, we checked in at the Robsham Memorial Center for Visitors before wandering around the private school’s 1000-acre campus. Few of the college’s 1800 students were around (where were they? At lunch? In class?), and my voice echoed outside between the buildings. The grass was green, the grounds immaculate, the buildings stately, the school quiet.

A mile up the road we found the lunch place I’d read about, The Loose Goose. We each chose a different sandwich (from hummus and avocado to turkey and bacon) on a different type of bread (French baguette, ciabatta roll, and even gluten-free sandwich bread) before exploring a few of the shops down the street.

After an ice cream at Bart’s, it was time for our 2:30 tour of UMass.

The University of Massachusetts 1,450-acre campus was bustling, and people were everywhere. Only a short distance from Amherst College and only one and a half times its acreage, UMass’s total student population is over 27,500. We joined a tour of 50 other parents and teens and explored the campus with its variety of architecture, from quaint New England brick buildings to the new 26-story library.

We learned that students at any of the five area colleges, Smith College, Mt. Holyoke College, and Hampshire College, in addition to UMass and Amherst College, can take classes at any of the other schools. Even men can take classes at the all-women schools of Mt. Holyoke and Smith.

We didn’t make it to nearby Northhampton or to any of the other campuses, but instead headed home, our first impression of Amherst, and especially UMass, a good one.

Trip Taken April 2012

Soweto Gospel Choir in Boston

Six months ago we were in South Africa, and two weeks ago we were there again, as we watched and listened to the Soweto Gospel Choir in Boston’s Symphony Hall on February 12.

The New England audience was staid at first, barely swaying or tapping to the beat as the choir sang and moved in brightly colored costumes to the syncopation of two djembe drums at stage left. Their voices blended and melded as the 15 or so men and women sang traditional African songs as well as more contemporary American spirituals including, “Shosholoza,” “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” “Many Rivers to Cross,” and “Swing Low.”

By the middle of the second act, the almost full house was rid of any inhibitions and the audience was standing, clapping and waving their arms as the dancers jumped, flipped and kicked, the drummers beated, the singers crooned and trilled, the choir harmonized.  As the music slowed, the audience swayed to the sensual sounds and lyrics of “Arms of an Angel,” a performance which inspired its own standing ovation.

With a tribute to Miriam Makeba, the choir ended the second act with “Pata Pata” bringing the audience to their feet, its clapping ceasing only when the drums and the melodies began again for two encores.

Since the Soweto Gospel Choir was formed in 2002 to celebrate inspirational African gospel music, the group has won three Grammy awards for their albums “Blessed” and “African Spirit” and for Best Movie Song “Down to Earth,” from the movie “Wall-E,” a collaboration with Peter Gabriel. The choir has performed all over the world for various dignitaries and with many leading performers.

Photo from artpropelled.blogspot.com.