One Man's Ceiling

Jeff and Scott, my fab bartenders when Wendy's off

Boston Public Library

So, I met Jen for a post work adult bev at The Frog and Peach yesterday. While waiting, I asked Jeff and Scott (Wonderful Wendy was off duty) if here, the Quincy/Boston area, is more or less friendly than where they grew up.

‘The same,’ they both said. Where did they grow up? Quincy and Weymouth (one town over). Ahem...so yeah, no noticeable difference.

I asked Jen. ‘About the same,’ she said. She grew up in Scituate, a few towns to the south.

OK am I the only ‘stranger’ in these parts? The one newbie? Can’t be.

I asked The Amazing Bob. He feels it’s definitely friendlier here than it was in his hometown. Where was that? New Bedford.

STILL not too far afield.

Do I find Boston more or less amicable than where I grew up?

Em, this isn’t such an easy question since my childhood was spent, mostly, on the move. The longest stretches in one place were in rural northern New Jersey (Peapack-Gladstone) and a small coal mining/college town in Western Pennsylvania. There was a year in Townsend, Massachusetts, one in Providence Rhode Island, two in Bloomington, Indiana and more. And then there were my years with a traveling carnival. While we were all over the Mid West, the states we played most were Illinois, Indiana and Texas.

So, how do I respond to my own question? Boston is more genially sociable than that town in Western Pennsylvania. It's nicer, more welcoming than anywhere in the state of Indiana and def demure in comparison to Texas.

Boston, from our side of the bay

All those years ago, when I’d decided that my last season with the show would, in fact, be my final season and let a dart pick Boston as my future stomping ground, my fellow carnies were surprised. Shocked even. Horrified would not be an exaggeration.

‘Everyone’s really nasty and rude as hell up there -- you’ll be so unhappy. It’ll be awful!’

One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor. One person’s ‘rude as hell’ is another person’s ‘graciously reserved.’

A few years or so after settling here, deciding Boston was definitely Home, I was back in Texas visiting my BFF, the late great Kevin Alexander Scott. He was stationed in San Angelo at the time.

In need of some sort of snack for our evening video viewing, I stepped into the quickie mart near his apartment. Immediately, the clerk was all up in my grill (damn, I love that phrase -- possibly because it’s hilarious for a white-ish, middle aged, deaf broad to voice this. OK, OK, it’s a laugh riot to me). The skinny, pasty-pale man in the garish 24 Hour Mart uniform and cap was all ‘Can I help you, what are you looking for, how’re you doing today,’ and on and on.

I walked out. Had to. This was affable overload for me.

One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor. One person’s ‘affable overload’ is another person’s ‘nicely mannered, charm.’

One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor -- Paul Simon