St. Valentine's Day — 2013

The days leading up to February 14 were a time of doing some shoveling of the sidewalk in front of my house. I took it easy and did the job in three stages over three days, spending no more than 45 minutes per day at a relaxed pace. (I really don't want to have a heart attack just yet.) Then today, I did the 10 feet from my property line to my neighbor's driveway.

Here are pics (click to enlarge) from before

Looking from the intersection toward the small section to be shoveled

and after

Looking back from the neighbor's driveway

Looking from the intersection (same as in first pic)

Wednesday was the much-anticipated Ash Wednesday, and I helped give out ashes at the four services in my parish. (Had to have an early dinner on Tuesday, so I wouldn't be eating meat on Wednesday.)

Come Thursday, I was planning to attend a concert at the Harvard Musical Association, and at noon I made a reservation online for a table for one at Scollay Square. (BTW, there are pics on their home page that give some idea of what it looks like.) Through the day, I was happily tweeting and commenting on people's blogs about how I'd be dining alone on St. Valentine's Day, and it didn't bother me at all. And I was right. I had a fine time — nothing spectacular at the restaurant. The waiter I call Tommy Kirk was at the hostess's desk when I walked in and I greeted them with a cheery "Happy St. Valentine's Day." "Tommy" hadn't been there the last two Friday I was, so I was especially happy to see that he still worked at the place, and I hoped he'd be my waiter. No such luck. Natalia was my waitress. She's very good — pleasant and pretty and efficient — she's just not a good-looking guy.

The whole time I was there, a table nearby was vacant, so I wasn't keeping a couple away. Among the patrons who arrived while I was having dinner (and were seated nearby) were two pairs of men. One pair were probably in their sixties, the other in their twenties. There were no PDA's, so the thought that they were gay is speculation on my part, but it's at least possible. All the other couples I saw were male-female.

The restaurant had a dinner-for-two special, a prix-fixe which allowed two choices from appetizers, two from entrees, and two from desserts. When I asked about specials, Natalia brought the special menu and said I could choose from that too. I chose a flatiron steak, and it was good.

Then, on to the concert, but …

just before leaving for Boston I checked an unopened e-mail from the HMA to see what they'd be playing (three Beethoven string quartets) and there, in red letters, was an announcement that attendance would be by reservation only. I tried to call and see if there was still room, but got voice mail. I couldn't wait for an answer, since I needed to leave to get to my restaurant reservation. So I checked the Boston Symphony calendar and found that they'd be playing things I wouldn't mind hearing. I finished dinner in time to get to Symphony Hall at about 7:40 andwas able to get a ticket (with a subscriber discount). So I had an enjoyable evening at Symphony Hall. I'd mention the fact that I also saw young guys in pairs there, but there are always young guys in pairs at Symphony Hall. I'd have enjoyed the post-concert supper at the HMA — sausages, red cabbage, and beer — but no complaints about the evening I did have.

PEI Family Visit/Ball Game with Bob and Mark/Commenter's Block

Last week I went to Prince Edward Island for a brief visit. I flew there by plane and was on the ground for just over 72 hours. The first evening I had dinner with the family of the youngest of my second cousins. He and his wife have four children —one starting his second year at university, teen-aged girl, teen-aged boy, and a 14 month old son. After dinner, another cousin (I'll call her "Marian") took me to her place, and later we attended a singer's performance in a rural restaurant.

The next day, I visited the widow of my mother's first cousin (the mother of the second cousins) at the ancestral farm, and my mother's remaining first cousin in the city. Marian had me peel onions that were going to become part of a chow that some of her siblings and their mother would make the next day. We were visited for supper by a friend of hers and the two autistic boys the friend is caring for. Next another cousin dropped off her 12 and 10 year old sons for an overnight. We all went to a ceilidh (pronounced kaylee), a performance of traditional music with fiddling, singing, and step dancing. We met the friend and the autistic boys there. Marian says her nephews' regular bedtime is 7:30, but they were up until about 11:00 that evening.

The boys played in the yard in the morning and we all took a walk along a trail in the woods at before lunch. Then the mother picked the boys up.

My last morning there, Marian sent me to the Premier's office to pick up an item he was donating to her organization's auction.

What struck me from the visit is the sense of family and community — people taking care of each other, doing things especially for family members as a matter of course. This is not something I experienced growing up. Most of the family was too far away for easy contact. One grandmother and an uncle lived 15-20 minutes away, but I didn't observe a lot of back-and-forth. So I learned to be pretty much on my own, not expecting to be called on by relatives for help nor expecting to get much from them, resenting interferences in my routine. Coming to know these cousins as I have over the past four years has reminded me how self-centered I have become — something I need to work on if the second great commandment is to love others as I love myself.

Yesterday (Wednesday) evening I went to a Red Sox baseball game with Bob, who organized it, and Mark. I hadn't been to a major league baseball game for decades. It was thoroughly delightful. We met in Kenmore Square and went to a restaurant nearby (where I was recognized by the past commodore of my yacht club, who was with a group at the adjacent table). Our seats were high above left field, with a good view of everything except a corner of left field.

It was great meeting Bob and Mark, both nice guys. And we had such a lively conversation that I actually paid less attention to the game than if I had been at home in front of my TV. Of course, at the park, there's a lot more to look at than the small pice being shown on TV at any moment. And the experience of being there, just being part of the event (including singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during the 7th inning stretch), felt exciting.

I sometimes wonder if I would like some bloggers I really like over the internet if I were to meet them irl. Well, with Bob and Mark, I was not disappointed. I like them just as much in person as I did in cyberspace and I'm sure I'd enjoy seeing each of them again.

I wouldn't recommend people under 18 meeting with adult bloggers, but for adults who have built up some degree of acquaintance and cyber-friendship, it can be worthwhile. Of course there is always an element of risk, as there is in any first encounter. The other guy could be an axe-murderer, someone who wants to out you if you're closeted, or just a jerk. And it's always wise to meet in a public setting for starters. But when you like what you know of someone from the internet, it can be worth a try, IMO. It certainly worked out very well for me. Just a wonderful evening with friends. And the Red Sox won!

Since I got back from PEI, I seem to be experiencing some commenter's block. I'll look at new posts on blogs I like and just not be able to come up with a worthwhile comment. There probably aren't many of you who notice when I don't comment on your blog, but if you have been missing my comments, let me assure you, it's not that I've stopped liking you or your blog. My feelings haven't changed since last month. But I have been thinking that I should cut down the time I spoend on the internet, and I should spend a bit more time at some websites I was a regular at before I discovered blogging. So maybe I won't have as many comments. But I'll be following you as I have been.