Hail-o from the other side.

On Comm. Ave. in Boston, there is a charter high school that sits in what used to be a car dealership. While it’s hard to imagine what it looked like when seeing at the grand main staircase the splits halfway up into two smaller staircases designated for up traffic and down traffic, it’s quite easy to picture in the big hall that has floor to ceiling windows that open up onto one of Boston’s busiest streets. It is in this big hall that I encountered hail for the first time. Over this past summer, I took part in a four week teacher prep course that actually paid me to become a better teacher. ( Teacher Launch Project for any aspiring first or even second year teachers out there, I cannot recommend this program enough).  One afternoon, a cloud so dark and ominous rolled over the city as if out of a cartoon or movie and some divine being was going to cleanse us with rain. While no deities were witnessed, that is essentially what happened. Pearl sized hail pelted down upon us, and never having encountered it before, I was fool enough to go outside to experience it. For about 5 seconds before taking a piece to the head and not enjoying it anymore. Once the hail died down, the rain picked up in the wind creating white bursts like surf obscuring our view from these big windows we were all pressing our faces against. We watched as Comm Ave put on it’s best Charles River impression, and I noticed two huge patio umbrellas from a Dunkin Donuts across the street had been blown asunder (note the only time you ever see Asunder is with torn or blown) and were blocking the train tracks. Former Dunkin Donuts employee and avid T rider I am, I asked “Someone has to go rescue those, should I do it?” I was scoffed at and called crazy. Yet the temptation was too strong, and I went out into the onslaught of rain, across the fully flooded street in my khakis and button down shirt, and grabbed the first umbrella. Too frenzied and hyped up to close it, I held it fully open behind me, fighting the wind for every step. Carrying a large metal rod was safe in this storm because there was an umbrella on top, right? I was met at the door of Dunkin Donuts by an anxious and very gracious middle aged woman working there who relieved me of the umbrella as I went out for the second one even further down the tracks. In the final stretch of returning it, I noticed a train coming and was even more glad I undertook this foolish endeavor. With about twenty feet remaining, I had to plant my feet and stand my ground or become the world’s wettest and worst Mary Poppins impersonator. Reclaiming my balance, I was met at the door by the woman again, and the assistant manager who lived across the street but had come down to slow to match my heroics. I was given all the food and drink I could ask for, and told to come back whenever for free food and drink, but I didn’t even care about that, and “saving” the train was nice too, but ultimately the experience of the hail and driving winds and rain were the real reason I did it. The T driver will never thank me, the “free food and drink” turned into a measly senior discount from the actual manager later that week, getting on the air conditioned train in soaked clothes made me shiver like no other, but the exhilarating rush of running through giant umbrellas in hand such a force of nature was worth it.

Video footage of the second umbrella as proof.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qDK6kYL3qrA

Say Yes More

“Say yes more,” is a simple challenge uttered to Danny Wallace, author of the book Yes Man one of the only books to ever shape my life. It led him on a months long, international adventure. While one of three books I’ve read more than once for pleasure, I don’t think adventures in yes will be as grand. Yes Man is way better than it’s very loose movie adaptation due in large part that is all true. The first time I read the book, I was at a point in my life where I needed to say yes more. It was four years ago, and I was in a rut. Much like Wallace, I was tragically single, I bought it for £3 while visiting England with a friend. My former classmates were graduating in a few months, and I was still not going anywhere fast, living with my parents and working at Dunkin Donuts, uncertain of what to do with my future. The trip itself was a big push to try and spark something for myself. I finished the book and knew I needed to start being a little more proactive. Within a year I’d have worked a more rewarding job, gone through wilderness therapy in Utah, and gotten myself back into college.

 Re-reading the book recently I find myself at a point where I want to say yes more. I’m making more money at a slightly more rewarding job than Dunkin Donuts.

This time is started with me trying to more proactive with my social life, reaching out to friends for hangouts instead of waiting for an invite or planning a big party. After my re-reading, my goal became clearer: Say ‘Yes’ to myself. If I want to see someone, I don’t wait, I say ‘yes, now let me make a plan’. So I met up with more friends, got out more. But the biggest reward of ‘Yes’ came this past weekend, but it needs a little set-up.

I have a beer-appreciative friend coming to visit in June, and so a few weeks ago I bought us tickets to the Hyper Local Craft Brew Fest coming to Somerville, MA for those interested. The tickets were sold through a website called Eventbrite. Last week, out of boredom and curiosity and a little bit of ‘Yes find more to do with your summer’ I looked through other upcoming events in Boston. Sam Adams Brewery, in celebration of Craft Beer Week, was hosting a Bluegrass Barbecue dinner at which they were debuting a new beer. It was two days away and tickets were only $20. But I had no one to go with. I was reluctant, should I go alone? But a perk to public drinking events is that is easy to make friends, no matter how fleeting, and not even due to inebriation. So I bought a ticket, and that Friday I dashed from work a little early to hop a bus to get on a train to make it. On the bus, my phone broke. It froze and the touch screen was unresponsive. I tried a few ineffectual methods ignorant to the obvious fix. I became hyper-fixated on it, as is my wont, and I started to stress.  My ticket was on my phone via Eventbrite (which I highly recommend checking out). Would I be able to get in without it? Fortunately they had a guest list and were able to find me. My first thirty to forty-five minutes were spent with smatterings of small talk during what seemed to be date night as everyone I saw was paired off and I was perpetual third wheel. I was eyeing people’s phones looking for a fellow galaxy user who might have tips for fixing.

The bluegrass band (Four Bridges) started off okay but not grabbing my full attention, and I was mildly regretting my decision to come. I noticed that some people had food already, and thought “Oh good. They’re serving food now; I’ll get some of that roast pig (with signature mouth apple) I saw outside. The line was already massive. After about five or so minutes in line, I managed to ease myself into a conversation with the couple behind me. Nick (a leaner, bearded Tom Wellington look alike, the actor who was Clark Kent in Smallville) and Michelle (no D-list celebrity lookalike to my knowledge) were on a date, and at an interesting point in their relationship from the little snippits I gathered. He was meeting her brother, and perhaps parents, for the first time the following day. We talked about beer, where we were from, the standard topics, but it was smooth and very much appreciated. At point Nick pulled out his phone and I noticed it was an android and he gave the obvious answer of pulling out the battery and putting it back in, which I didn’t think of, know was possible with my relatively new phone.  My phone worked fine, though I had significantly drained my battery. After getting our food, and a new beer while in line, I went ahead, giving them the chance to go off and eat together sans some stranger third wheel. But with a timely glance back, I saw them wave me back and show me where they were aiming to sit. I was so touched by this. I know they wouldn’t have truly been alone no matter where they sat, but I gave them an out and they didn’t take it. We had more conversation comparing our beer choices and even gave some out of towners suggestions what to do with the remainder of their weekend visit. (Lawn on D. A whole nother topic in and of itself).

After eating and drinking, the music got better. Hearing a bluegrass cover of My Humps is something special. The Johnny Cash cover was expected and enjoyed nonetheless. The night was a great success.

            The next day, was the three-year anniversary of Paint Nite, which my girlfriend works for. It was at House of Blues Boston, they had giant Jenga, a slew of caricature artists, cornhole and other fun things. This wasn’t a big ‘yes’ because we had bought tickets weeks before I started this, but I attribute ‘yes’ to what happened as a result. For $20 bucks, we got an arm’s length of tickets, using my lanky arm as the measuring tool. Apparently my arm is 19 tickets long. There were many prizes to choose from but the three we focused on were nights at two Boston hotels, and a brewing session at a make your own beer place. This was another time of hesitance, but we said yes and because of it, we (she) won us a free night at the Boston Sheraton. Another testament to the rewards of going out and doing things you always say you could do, but pass on for no valid reason.

            The final reward of ‘Yes’ to happen recently was this past Tuesday. I had worked my longest shift of the week (admittedly only seven hours), and was exhausted settling in to play some Xbox before working on job applications. My parents had just ordered Chinese. It was going to be a nice night in. Until I got a text “Come play pool at Tasty Burger with me.” A little over an hour on the T, it was already 9. I wouldn’t get there until at least 10:30. But through force of will I rallied and made my way.

            After a few drinks, she brought up this house we’ve talked about that is down the street from her and set to be demolished. We had previously half-assedly tried to pick the lock and check it out to no avail. But earlier in the week, she noticed the front door was open. We ditched our game of electronic bean-bag toss and went to explore. It was an old house, two floors, one bedroom, the obligatory eerie basement. Our greatest find, which led to an in depth discussion as to who got what, was pages of the Boston Globe dated May 4, 1938. The greatest debate was between who got the “Fuehrer visits Rome Memorials” and who gets the movie listings including Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby movies and most importantly Snow White, the very first Disney film, in its original run. The dollar was worth five pounds, Red Sox had won a game in the tenth inning. There was so much history preserved here, not all of it good such sexist ads and racist cartoons, but this wasn’t even a lifetime ago for some people. On our way out, I noticed there was mail that would never be opened and checked the name of the last resident. Loretta West was born in 1917 and in the 1940s, she was a Rockette, curiously after these newspapers findings came out by over a year, and before she passed away at 94 in 2011 she worked at a bakery down the street. With no apparent children according to the online findings, I hope this post in some (very miniscule and insufficient way) honors her memory…or something.

            Thanks to Yes, I’ve had many great adventures and experiences I wouldn’t have had if I didn’t say yes to myself and go do the things I wanted to do, even I could’ve been content doing less.  I’m always happy to stay home and play video games, or just hang out at bars and do the usual, but I took a more active control to my life, and while I have made a few no’s since then, I regret them. So, go out and say yes more is my challenge to all of you handful of people who read this.

Bremen...Breadmen?

It’s been a day and a half in Bremen and I have no idea what we would do without Astrid, whose glowing personality seems to shine through just as well here as it did to everyone in the States. It’s not the getting around part that would make me nervous. It just feels so embarrassing being in a place where I can’t speak the language more than, “Hello,” “Goodbye,” and “I’m eating bread.”

Our first day was nothing more than a taste of Bremen, but meeting Astrid’s family and seeing her house was a cultural experience on its own. Astrid’s mom in particular is endlessly kind. She and Astrid spend nearly the entire day remedying a problem we’d had with our plane tickets for a weekend trip to Zurich.

Her mom has been taking English classes in order to prepare for our visit and the confusion that arises from our conversations is one of my favorite parts about traveling. Google Translate, which always seems so accurate at the times when it least matters, provides the best fun.

After taking a nap on the first day, we had our first German meal of schnitzel, mashed potatoes, and tomato salad for lunch. Astrid’s parents offered us beer. I politely declined and Joe accepted. Astrid’s mom appeared concerned and asked Astrid why I didn’t want the beer, wondering if it was just the type of beer I didn’t like. It apparently hadn’t occurred to her that I might just not be in the mood for a beer midday.

Many of our humorous cultural differences seem to come up around food. On our second day, Joe and I woke up quite late due to our lack of sleep from the flight on the previous night. At breakfast, Astrid brought out a selection of breads, salami, and spreads. Astrid asked if we would like eggs since she was making some for herself. We said no thank you and I asked if she would be having some of the bread and stuff like us. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “I already had breakfast!” and sat down with her egg and fried potatoes.

Astrid left for Hamburg on our second evening to attend an event for school. When her mom came home, she enthusiastically showed us a package of sliced white bread, pulled out a panini press, and said, “Astrid say you like sandwiches.” She proceeded to clean all the nooks and crannies of the panini press for about ten minutes and made us some salad. After we finished the salad, she went off to bed and we left the kitchen, clueless as to what she was hoping we would do with the bread and panini press.
-RJ Lynch