Tales From the City

Frankly, my dear

March 13, 2011

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I was reading an article to my husband about Barney Frank’s deciding to run for reelection. In the article, it stated that he had officially changed his name to Barney, but it never said what his name was before he changed it. My husband asked, “Fenway?”

Diana Sheedy / Bedford, New Hampshire

Getting a grip

Backing into my driveway last night, I felt a disturbing soft crunch as I rolled over a mound of something. I figured it was probably just snow and slush, but worried that it could have been an animal. I walked around to the back of my car, and in the twilight could just make out a dark shape under the rear wheels. My heart sank, thinking the dark spot must be some poor cat or squirrel. But on closer examination, it turned out to be actual pavement, which clearly I didn’t recognize after so many storms. (And yes, the mound of slush was just that.)

Jennifer Teig von Hoffman / Boston

Concord close call

When my grandson was 6, we visited the historic North Bridge in Concord and were met by a guide dressed in Colonial garb. He told the story of the shot heard round the world, explaining that there were soldiers buried nearby who had perished in the battle. My grandson was spellbound, and when the guide stopped talking, said, “You were lucky to survive the war.”

Patricia Carroll / Arlington

Coming clean

On the Chinese calendar, my young niece and her mom were both born in the Year of the Pig. At a dinner, my sister became embarrassed as her daughter proudly exclaimed over and over, “We’re pigs, Mama, right?” One of the guests, who hadn’t heard the start of the conversation, replied, “Oh, no, you’re not pigs; you’re just a bit disorganized.”

Debra Vincuilla / Watertown

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  • March 13, 2011 cover
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