14 degree snow drifted graveyards

Ben Franklin was baptized in a building I touched.

"Is that really the real Samuel Adams, from the beer?"

"Yes, where did you think you were?"

"It's fricking cold out here, my eyeball juice is freezing man"

"Hancock too! In the purely drifted snow. I wonder if his bones are cold"

I snap a picture of the cemetary gates and the song is instantly stuck in my mind. Sonny eventually says "thanks alot" because the song is in the air now. Even though we haven't quite crossed an ocean, it really feels a lot like ancestors wisk about here.

A man with a heavy laden bicycle says to mention his name at the Bulfinch. Some thing about "Three cheers to Robert Stein, they stole my wallet and bought Cheers!"
Well, the young'uns that worked there had no idea what I was talking about. (Cloudy budweiser at the back bar but great fish 'n' chips!)

Whiskey really helps in this type of weather, especially if your child has pulled a full glass of icewater onto your lap. I guess God made Boston on a wet Sunday.

Strolling past the Common...

The city reminds me of my Grandfather. You know, he was partly responsible for the invention of the orange cone?