Thanksgiving in Boston is different than here in Florida

Barry Evans
Barry Evans

For the first time in many a year, The Blonde in the house and I did not stay home for Thanksgiving.  Instead, we went to our older son’s home in Boston. Thanksgiving in Boston is different than here in Florida.  The main reason being that it was COLD – and windy.  I was talking to a doctor today, who had gone to Minnesota (where we spent 6.5 years).  He forgot his winter coat, and indicated that it reminded him of what Florida had done to his operating system.

We feel the same way.

However, we did not forget our winter jackets.  It was strange walking around Boston on Black Friday – and whatever they call the Saturday now.  We felt out of place, because when you looked at the mass of humanity walking around all you saw was black.  Just about everyone had on black down jackets with matching pants or skirts.  I had on a gold jacket and The Blonde a turquoise jacket.  We looked like a couple of peacocks among the mass of blackness.  The only other time we saw this was when we were in London once during rainy September, and everybody there was in black.  Perhaps, Boston is closer to our former colonial ruler than they know.

We actually had two Thanksgivings as our youngest son and his family went to Nebraska where his wife’s family lives.  Thus, it was required that we have an early Thanksgiving at our house so that The Blonde could make her biscuits.  As our family has grown, I find that I have to struggle harder to get my share of the biscuits as not only does the son want them, but so do the grandkids – especially the grandsons.  My youngest son’s son demanded that he be permitted to take home any biscuits that were left – and The Blonde let him!  Then in Boston our oldest son’s son sat and watched The Blonde make biscuits and put the recipe on his computer.  He told his mother that he was going to make a 100 for Christmas.

I think I did mention that it was cold in Boston.  Due to the fact that all four of my son’s kids were in town, we stayed at a hotel about a block from his home.  One of the attributes of this hotel was that it had several rooms with working fireplaces in them.  You called and they came up with your choice of wood (oak, cherry, birch, or maple) and they started a fire for you.  The Blonde was in seventh heaven.  It reminded me of our days in Minnesota.  We had a new house, and she burnt so much wood that the chimney caught on fire – but that’s another cold story.

Cold always reminds me of one community in New Jersey where I was the City Manager.  The Public Works department and I knew what was coming as winter approached. It was that the Council would direct us to scrape out a large area behind the city hall and fill it with water so the residents could ice skate.  Every year we would recommend against it as it never got cold enough to freeze the water solid enough to skate.  Naturally, every year we would scrape out the area and fill it with water.  Every year, it would not get cold enough to freeze properly.  I wonder if they are still doing that?

Cold or not, The Blonde and I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Barry Evans writes about Life in The Villages for