Monday, April 25, 2005
FAREWELL TO BOSTON....AND OUR FAMILY
I have listened to John’s accounts of his running, dating back to his college days. I’m not sure why he started but I noticed every time he came home, he had magazines about running. Little by little it became less of a jogging thing and more of a long distance effort. He would walk to a tree in the front yard and go through various stretching exercises…..then start jogging towards our road where he would routinely disappear for a time and reappear as he made his rounds. He was young and strong. Add determination to that and pretty soon he was trying to beat his own time. He was motivated beyond recreational running……he wanted to run the races….just to be part of the scene, I supposed.
Through Seminary, marriage and two years in Illinois with his church vocation, he continued to run. His enthusiasm was endless. As mother’s do, I listened to each account and wondered to myself…. “what makes Johnny run?” I never was very athletic and the very thought of running the distances he did made me tired. I did some walking and tried jogging…….walking was better. It never romanced me as it did John. It was just plain work as far as I was concerned. However, I was very proud of John and because of my dislike of it for myself, it made me realize how great his accomplishments were. It’s either in the mind…..or not at all.
In Boston, as he made his way to the fence area where I waited, he looked so thin….and hot!! His face was red from the effort and I could tell he was weak. Still I grabbed him and hugged him…..and yes….said, “Hold still, John….I want to take your picture.” Then a picture with me…then one with Rocky….then a passerby offered to take one of the three of us. THEN I noticed my Johnny was dying….he sat down on the sidewalk curbing and hung his head down….still drinking the water given him. He was undergoing the rigors of post-exertion that I could never know…..a volunteer came and offered water, then poured some over his head.
George and Barb caught up with us and were disappointed that they missed him at the finish line. It turned out I was at a key place to “find” him passing by. God works close with mother’s you know. All the time, John was feeling better and better…..it was beginning to soak in that he ran the race and he ran it well. Not the time he hoped for but Heartbreak Hill had killed most expectations for everyone that day. Finishing in the top third of runners from all over the world can’t be too shabby. He got his medal and soon after he was up walking after his gear from the bus.
We all went back to their hotel and snacked while John showered….then we headed out to eat lunch somewhere. The great thing about Boston is that you can walk all over downtown where the buildings of the 17-and 18-hundreds find a common place with 2005 architecture. I was totally blown away with the camera shots so richly positioned everywhere I looked. John called it a photographers paradise and he was right. Being born and raised in the Midwest, there is little of the very old standing among the new, as flowers in a patch of weeds. It was a fascinating day of exploration and family.
We had to say our goodbyes after our supper time. John and Barb headed for their hotel and we headed for the subway steps to take us back to North Station for the hook-up with the commuter train back to Anderson. When we arrived at North Station we could hear our train leaving……..it was a long 40-minute wait. There were no places to sit. The crowd had hit the station about the same time to return to their starting places. People were sitting on the floor, reading, talking on cell-phones, eating…..as for George, Rocky and me….we just stared at the clock, watching the agonizing minutes click by. We were dead on our feet because we drove into our motel at 1:30 that morning and got to bed by 2:00.…we were up at 6:00 to eat and find the train and subway to take us to the hotel where Barb was waiting. After that, it was lots more stairs, walking, standing….all of which made Rocky and I feel our age.
The next morning we repeated the commuter/subway connections with great confidence. Done it once….now we were experts. Shortly after we arrived at the hotel, Jennifer and her husband, Marc, arrived. We had the customary family hugs and greetings and then embarked on a plan to enjoy all we could out of what Boston had to offer. After a bit of shopping for us gals, we met the guys on the street to learn Marc knew a tour bus owner whom he called and we were to be picked up shortly. After a walk to the pickup point on one side of the Boston Commons we climbed on the bus to learn it was “on the house” from Marc’s friend. We were given paid passes which would have been $26 for each of us…….way to go Marc!!! That improves your appreciation a thousand percent as far as taking the tour to the most scenic areas.
We were entertained by a bus-driver who should have been a comedian. Or maybe he was a comedian who should have been a bus driver…..I don’t know. He made it all memorable and at one point, we transferred off and walked to the dock where the USS Constitution was moored. It was 10-minutes till the gift shop closed so we hustled over and made some fast decisions. The clerks made it very clear the doors were closing at 5:00 sharp….I selected a coffee mug with a depiction of the Constitution and a refrigerator magnet. After that, we were shown the door. We passed close by the old ship……incidentally, she never lost a battle. How many of us old gals can say THAT?
We walked to the ferry dock and waited for it to take us across where hopefully we could find a good meal. In the Italian neighborhood, the guys picked a very small very busy restaurant that was run by Italians, cooked and served by Italians. We enjoyed a bottle of wine with our native fare and gave our blessings to them all. With your chair rubbing the chair behind you, all was in good humor. People laughed, talked, scooted their chairs for you to get up or down…….it was chaotic to say the least but wonderful. The food and ambience were excellent.
The worst part of any trip, especially a family trip, is when it’s time to say good-bye. We walked towards the subway station where Rocky, George and I must board to meet with the commuter. Now we had a schedule and planned no waiting. As we each hugged and hung on for one last squeeze, brushing tears away, we told each other we loved them, knowing it would be some time before we could meet again. Leaving is always sad for the heart wants to hold on.
George went back to the hotel in a dash to pick up the items left there and raced back just as the subway came in. By running at the commuter station we caught it just before the doors went shut. We huddled in our seats, holding our cameras and packages, each of us with our own thoughts. Anderson Station came and we literally hobbled up the long ramp to the parking lot to drive back to our motel. We were all exceedingly tired……but happy.
The next morning we were up and left early, taking a different route home for a change. We were hit with a fierce rain storm in the mountains and we saw a terrible wreck shortly after it happened. An 18-wheeler was upside down and the cab crushed into a sandwich. A policeman and motorist was trying to find a way to the person inside………we were afraid, a fatality, maybe two people were inside. We passed on by with a prayer for whoever it was and for the emergency teams that would have to deal with the rescue. The rest of the trip home was uneventful.
Home!! Home!! It’s such a wonderful place……..our kitties greeted us at the door and we unloaded our baggage and settled in. Becky was here to welcome us back and we visited for a time…..telling her about it all.
I have one thing to say that was surprising to me. Along with all of the aforementioned categories, I would like to say….. “Bostonians need a round hand of applause. You welcomed the world to your city, you shared every amenity you owned, you embraced us all and with extremely good humor and good manners. My hat is off to you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the hospitality.” May it ever be, and as Bob Hope would say.. “Thanks for the memories”…………you are in my heart.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
Through Seminary, marriage and two years in Illinois with his church vocation, he continued to run. His enthusiasm was endless. As mother’s do, I listened to each account and wondered to myself…. “what makes Johnny run?” I never was very athletic and the very thought of running the distances he did made me tired. I did some walking and tried jogging…….walking was better. It never romanced me as it did John. It was just plain work as far as I was concerned. However, I was very proud of John and because of my dislike of it for myself, it made me realize how great his accomplishments were. It’s either in the mind…..or not at all.
In Boston, as he made his way to the fence area where I waited, he looked so thin….and hot!! His face was red from the effort and I could tell he was weak. Still I grabbed him and hugged him…..and yes….said, “Hold still, John….I want to take your picture.” Then a picture with me…then one with Rocky….then a passerby offered to take one of the three of us. THEN I noticed my Johnny was dying….he sat down on the sidewalk curbing and hung his head down….still drinking the water given him. He was undergoing the rigors of post-exertion that I could never know…..a volunteer came and offered water, then poured some over his head.
George and Barb caught up with us and were disappointed that they missed him at the finish line. It turned out I was at a key place to “find” him passing by. God works close with mother’s you know. All the time, John was feeling better and better…..it was beginning to soak in that he ran the race and he ran it well. Not the time he hoped for but Heartbreak Hill had killed most expectations for everyone that day. Finishing in the top third of runners from all over the world can’t be too shabby. He got his medal and soon after he was up walking after his gear from the bus.
We all went back to their hotel and snacked while John showered….then we headed out to eat lunch somewhere. The great thing about Boston is that you can walk all over downtown where the buildings of the 17-and 18-hundreds find a common place with 2005 architecture. I was totally blown away with the camera shots so richly positioned everywhere I looked. John called it a photographers paradise and he was right. Being born and raised in the Midwest, there is little of the very old standing among the new, as flowers in a patch of weeds. It was a fascinating day of exploration and family.
We had to say our goodbyes after our supper time. John and Barb headed for their hotel and we headed for the subway steps to take us back to North Station for the hook-up with the commuter train back to Anderson. When we arrived at North Station we could hear our train leaving……..it was a long 40-minute wait. There were no places to sit. The crowd had hit the station about the same time to return to their starting places. People were sitting on the floor, reading, talking on cell-phones, eating…..as for George, Rocky and me….we just stared at the clock, watching the agonizing minutes click by. We were dead on our feet because we drove into our motel at 1:30 that morning and got to bed by 2:00.…we were up at 6:00 to eat and find the train and subway to take us to the hotel where Barb was waiting. After that, it was lots more stairs, walking, standing….all of which made Rocky and I feel our age.
The next morning we repeated the commuter/subway connections with great confidence. Done it once….now we were experts. Shortly after we arrived at the hotel, Jennifer and her husband, Marc, arrived. We had the customary family hugs and greetings and then embarked on a plan to enjoy all we could out of what Boston had to offer. After a bit of shopping for us gals, we met the guys on the street to learn Marc knew a tour bus owner whom he called and we were to be picked up shortly. After a walk to the pickup point on one side of the Boston Commons we climbed on the bus to learn it was “on the house” from Marc’s friend. We were given paid passes which would have been $26 for each of us…….way to go Marc!!! That improves your appreciation a thousand percent as far as taking the tour to the most scenic areas.
We were entertained by a bus-driver who should have been a comedian. Or maybe he was a comedian who should have been a bus driver…..I don’t know. He made it all memorable and at one point, we transferred off and walked to the dock where the USS Constitution was moored. It was 10-minutes till the gift shop closed so we hustled over and made some fast decisions. The clerks made it very clear the doors were closing at 5:00 sharp….I selected a coffee mug with a depiction of the Constitution and a refrigerator magnet. After that, we were shown the door. We passed close by the old ship……incidentally, she never lost a battle. How many of us old gals can say THAT?
We walked to the ferry dock and waited for it to take us across where hopefully we could find a good meal. In the Italian neighborhood, the guys picked a very small very busy restaurant that was run by Italians, cooked and served by Italians. We enjoyed a bottle of wine with our native fare and gave our blessings to them all. With your chair rubbing the chair behind you, all was in good humor. People laughed, talked, scooted their chairs for you to get up or down…….it was chaotic to say the least but wonderful. The food and ambience were excellent.
The worst part of any trip, especially a family trip, is when it’s time to say good-bye. We walked towards the subway station where Rocky, George and I must board to meet with the commuter. Now we had a schedule and planned no waiting. As we each hugged and hung on for one last squeeze, brushing tears away, we told each other we loved them, knowing it would be some time before we could meet again. Leaving is always sad for the heart wants to hold on.
George went back to the hotel in a dash to pick up the items left there and raced back just as the subway came in. By running at the commuter station we caught it just before the doors went shut. We huddled in our seats, holding our cameras and packages, each of us with our own thoughts. Anderson Station came and we literally hobbled up the long ramp to the parking lot to drive back to our motel. We were all exceedingly tired……but happy.
The next morning we were up and left early, taking a different route home for a change. We were hit with a fierce rain storm in the mountains and we saw a terrible wreck shortly after it happened. An 18-wheeler was upside down and the cab crushed into a sandwich. A policeman and motorist was trying to find a way to the person inside………we were afraid, a fatality, maybe two people were inside. We passed on by with a prayer for whoever it was and for the emergency teams that would have to deal with the rescue. The rest of the trip home was uneventful.
Home!! Home!! It’s such a wonderful place……..our kitties greeted us at the door and we unloaded our baggage and settled in. Becky was here to welcome us back and we visited for a time…..telling her about it all.
I have one thing to say that was surprising to me. Along with all of the aforementioned categories, I would like to say….. “Bostonians need a round hand of applause. You welcomed the world to your city, you shared every amenity you owned, you embraced us all and with extremely good humor and good manners. My hat is off to you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the hospitality.” May it ever be, and as Bob Hope would say.. “Thanks for the memories”…………you are in my heart.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
