John Lynch
I typically wait until “Little Christmas” (January 6) to take down the tree. And Little Christmas happens to be couple of days after the January 4 anniversary of my mom passing away in 2015.
I have these ornaments my mom sent me over the years. They depict different locations in Charlestown, a neighborhood in Boston. The neighborhood where I grew up with my 11 siblings. The neighborhood where my mom grew up with her 7 siblings. We all went to the same Catholic grammar school – St. Francis de Sales on the top of Bunker Hill Street. (It is now condos, most with a spectacular view of Boston, Cambridge, and the surrounding area.)
Charlestown is a complex place. People know it from the movie, The Town. Many know of its reputation for being the car theft and/or bank robbery capital of America. Some recall its role in the “busing crisis” of the mid-‘70s.
In recent decades, it’s become a place with multi-million dollar homes, a short walk over the bridge into downtown Boston. It is one square mile, with a bustling port, three housing projects, two (down from three) Catholic parishes, Todd English’s original restaurant, the Bunker Hill Monument and the USS Constitution.
Nobody was more proud of being a “Townie” than my mom. And she passed that down to her children.
Charlestown, to my mom, and to me, was a great place to grow up. A place where we didn’t lock our front door and (for better or for worse) everyone knew what you were up to. And would tell your mom what you had been up to.
The “Old Thompson Square Elevated Train Station” depicted on one of the ornaments was an Orange Line stop on the “T.” It, along with the elevated train tracks through Charlestown, was closed and dismantled in 1975, replaced by below-grade tracks a few blocks away. Two years later, as an 8th grader, I stood at that site selling the Boston Globe and Boston Herald to passing motorists.
When I transferred to Boston College in 1984, a presenter was discussing where to live (and not live) in Boston. She said, “Just don’t live along the Orange Line.” I took pride and offense at that comment. The person next to me recognized my familiarity with Boston. He became my roommate and we remain friends nearly 40 years later.
In any event, the holidays and the items we pull out and box up every year, are full of memories, some more pleasant than others. But anything that reminds me of my mom is a welcome thing.