June 21, 2012

Cambridge, MA. November, 1991

After I moved to Massachusetts in 1978, and after my mother died some ten years later, my father came for a brief visit. I remember picking him up at the airport and noticing that he wore only a lightweight Boston Celtics jacket, green satin, a shamrock appliqué. (We spent some of the weekend trying to find warmer coats for him to wear.) He spent a few cold days with me at my Cambridge Terrace condo, attended one of Nick’s events at the Boston Harbor Hotel, came with me to Beverly Farms to stay at Jay’s. No one in my family ever talked much, at least not about anything serious or important. So I was surprised when my brother told me that my father’s full report on his visit to Jay’s was this: “They sleep in the same room.” (Years later, after another visit, this time to Jay’s house in Gloucester, my father’s take to my brother was: “He has gold fixtures in one of the bathrooms.” Progress, I guess.)

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