Boston, Massachusetts

Boston, Massachusetts

Sometimes called the Athens of America, Bean Town or the Hub, this large metropolitan, cosmopolitan region is where I was born. From high school bullies, Boy Scouts, early skiing and beach days, to 21st Century maturity, I’ve been examining my nexus with this life here. I do like the colonial history of the American Revolution; Paul Revere, the Minutemen and USS Constitution. Our heritage as a Nation really began here in crooked cow paths and red cobblestones. From John Adams, the Abolitionists, Thoreau to JFK, Boston has been home to many artists, writers, immigrants and businessmen/women. Later came fishing, whaling and textiles to the high tech urban chaos of today. I think compared to other areas of the country, the Boston area driving is very pushy and confrontational; it’s very fast and strident in character. The T loads commuters daily in a 9-5 treadmill of students and working class crush! Cold icy winters turn into brilliant spring blossoms, hot humid summers and blue sky autumns. The ocean creates a stressful mix of rainy nor’easters, gloomy gray fog, back door cold fronts from Canada and summer heat waves of intense, sticky muggy sweat. I find the regular changes in atmospheric pressure to be just that-pressure. Cars, and bridges rust. Anything wood rots and molds in this damp climate. Class warfare pervades the population with burdensome politicians who govern with high taxes-for a” we know best” campaign for social ills. Underworld notoriety, gangs, inner city mayhem and anonymous, suburban “keeping up with the Jones” narcissism creates an alienating sense of depression sometimes. I guess it’s just all about what you look for, but it sure seems like a jarring tangle a lot of the time. Family, shorebirds, good shopping, and Red Sox/ NE Patriots are the silver lining. Watercolor


Bernese Oberland, Switzerland 1986

Bernese Oberland, Switzerland 1986

Schilthorn cable car rises above Murren. Pictured: the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau across from the Lauterbrunnen Gorge below. Distant blue ice glaciers fill the slopes beyond. From the tram going up to the Piz Gloria, James Bond restaurant, I viewed ravens and a couple of ibex or chamois on the rocks/ice below me-holding my skis inside. Once on the summit I skied the most challenging run ever, anywhere in my skiing history, the Kanonenrohr or gunbarrel. I was 36 in my skiing prime of life. Watercolor