A Chilly, Wet Time in Beantown

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BOSTON — We fled Texas on a Sunday morning in late July. The temperature the day before had reached 105 in Dallas. Just walking out to the car to deposit the items not making the trip was akin to opening a pizza oven and staring at that large pepperoni pie from six inches out. It was a dry heat, as they say, akin to holding a blow dryer to one’s face. And that was at 9 a.m. It was time to make our annual escape to New England.

We booked this trip just two weeks ago, after waffling over whether we would go somewhere new this summer, or nowhere at all. Then the first miserably hot, humid day of summer arrived not long after Independence Day. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and I exchanged glances. I said, “Let’s go to New England,” and 30 minutes later the bones of the trip were booked — flights, hotel and tickets to a Red Sox game at Fenway. We would fill in the details later for our week away.

We both spent the next two weeks worriedly looking at the weather app on our iPhones, checking the temperature in Boston. It can get hot in Beantown, though rarely as hot as Texas. But it can be steamy enough to make you wonder about the wisdom of escaping Texas heat only to sweat in Massachusetts at twice the price.

But not on this trip. We arrived late Sunday afternoon and made our usual foray to Joe’s American Grill on Newbury in Back Bay, with temperatures in the low 70s. Lovely. When I awoke early the next morning to walk in Boston Public Garden before bringing my BMC caffeine from Starbucks, it was misting. Lovely, I thought. Nothing better than a misty day in Boston.

By the time my peeps arose and we headed out on foot, the rain and wind had intensified. After lunch, we realized none of us were prepared for the falling temperatures and rain. It had dropped into the high 50s. We borrowed umbrellas from the hotel and headed to an outfitter store to spend a bunch of money buying rain gear. It was great! Here we were, in late July, buying clothes to stay warm. This does not happen in Texas unless one has turned the air conditioning down ridiculously low.

Properly outfitted, we ventured back outside. The wind was howling, the rain coming sideways. I snuggled inside my parka with the hood fastened, using the umbrella to deflect the waves of water as if I were fencing with it. All of us were soaked from the knees down, but nearly giddy with delight. I kept checking the weather app and announcing, “It’s 97 degrees in Longview!” It was 58 degrees on Boylston Street at the finish line for the Boston Marathon. I checked.

As the rain ceased, and the wind abated, the sidewalks again filled with folks, a few dozen gathered around at Copley Square, next to Boston Public Library, as the sun was setting over the Charles River. A musician named Caleb Hunsinger, former student at the nearby acclaimed Berklee College of Music, was playing an electronic keyboard, trumpet and voice distorter, riffing on Stevie Wonder songs. He was a highly talented busker, his trumpet case filled with currency. A couple of street folks were dancing too close inside Caleb’s personal space, and he kept politely waving them back. A pleasant breeze continued to waft down Boylston as we headed back to the hotel, grateful that another week of pristine weather was in our future.

The food in New England is always off the chain, and we eat seafood for most every meal. The cultural and historical attractions are compelling, and the towns look like movie sets. But it is the weather that keeps us coming back, the chance to wear a jacket in July, to stand on a balcony in early morning and shiver as the sun slowly rises. When you live in Texas that is reason enough to take a vacation north of the Mason-Dixon.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that New England is where I was born and raised, up here where all the statues in the parks are of Union generals and statesman. It is familiar territory to this “reformed” Yankee, as daughter Abbie calls me. That is not a bad description of me. Though reformed from what is open to question.

But that’s a topic for future discussion.

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