I struggle through the snow and icy fingered wind to the graveyard where Samuel Adams and Paul Revere and other revolutionary heroes are buried. It is very cold and I am a sub-tropical softy. The position of the graveyard is indicated on a Google map on the ‘where to go in Boston’ section of the conference App. When I get there it turns out to be project housing where, when I ask, “Is Paul Revere’s grave around here?”, happy brothers say, ” Man, I sure don’t know ’bout that but he was one,one,one, bad motherf**ker!” The pin somehow got placed on the wrong place on the map. I stumble the miles back to the convention center -Oates-like.
Poor Seika. She looks very unhappy, hope a hot drink was quickly available. Or maybe she’s just about to be sick after that breakfast?
I read a fascinating biog of Ben Franklin – history sure is funny – cast a new light on those Penn folk. What a waste of tea. Are the Cabots and God still talking I wonder?
Is she holding a cup of tea