Recently, the Boston Globe reported that Boston is number one among cities with a high percentage of young people. Undaunted by the fact, this senior citizen and two longtime friends of similar vintage ventured into the city last week. We did see a lot of young people, but rather than that making us feel even older, we discovered that the youthfulness of the city rubbed off on us.
We started our day at the Boston Public Library, having tea, looking at the Sargent murals, and searching out the plaster cast of the bas relief tribute to Sacco and Venzetti. I guess these sound more like old lady things to do, especially when only one of us had the right eyes to read the information about what we were seeing. But on our way to the T, we passed a protest march. This one was orderly and upbeat, and we found ourselves responding to the young activists, raising our arms up in response to theirs. It felt good to be drawn physically into their outrage.
A friendly gesture
Riding a crowded subway was an experience I hadn’t had in a few years. On two different occasions a young person offered up a seat. I thought I should be a bit offended—after all, I’m not exactly doddering. Instead, I thought of these young people as having made a friendly gesture, smiled, and said I was fine. They had the decency not to insist!
I knew it was true but hadn’t seen it before in such a blatant display: Almost without exception, every young person on the T was hooked to a phone. Against the tide—and, frankly, common sense—my friends and I carried on a conversation above the roar of the train. I found myself recalling, defensively, that on more than one occasion during the afternoon one of us had shown we were “with it” by taking and sharing pictures on our phones. And during a conversation at tea, when our combined old brains couldn’t think of the name of a famous person, one of us had googled it on her phone.
Age has its privileges. One of my friends owns a time share at the Custom House. We swept in, she identified herself, and we rode to the observation walk on the 26th floor. The view of the city at night is spectacular: the harbor on one side, and all around an endless variety of new and old architecture. It feels vast and cozy at the same time. On our way out, we had to wend through a private party of young people. We didn’t get stared at, and we enjoyed how obviously they were having a good time.
The lion and the unicorn
Back outside, we walked around Quincy Market admiring the lights. There were hardly any other people. The sidewalks are lined with deciduous trees, their trunks and branches outlined in white lights. In their outer branches, flashing blue lights entice the observer to guess their limits. A tall, fat evergreen covered in white lights stopped us in awe. We kept exclaiming how beautiful it all was and how charming this part of the city.
We made our way to Park Street, now back in the rush of people—mostly young. As we neared the Old State House, one of my friends exclaimed, “Oh, the lion and the unicorn are back.” We stopped to stare delightedly at what look to be newly re-gilt statues, the replicas of the original 7-foot wooden symbols of British monarchy. The old building is such a major part of Boston’s history, and it warmed this historian’s soul to see how it is being preserved and stewarded.
More than one ear-phoned person had to stop to detour around us, no doubt annoyed at the senior citizens gawking upward. But maybe a few of them were distracted enough to look at what we were seeing. Maybe some of the “oldness” rubbed off on them.
