Grandmother’s House

Linda Burton posting from Providence, Rhode Island – I went over the river and through the woods, but I wasn’t headed for grandmother’s house. I moved from Boston to Providence, Rhode Island today; capital city #45 on the Journey. The river I crossed was the Charles, on the new wing-cabled bridge that was built as part of the Big Dig. The day was October-perfect, but the heavy traffic prevented me from looking left, or right, to see the Charles, where the Head of the Charles Regatta was underway, the world’s largest two-day rowing event. The road dipped into the Big Dig tunnel, where there was nothing to see but tail lights. Out of the worm-hole and back into daylight on I-93; the train went by on my right, the T. Remember that Kingston Trio song back in ‘59 about poor old Charlie? Did he ever return? No he never returned and his fate is still unlearn’d. He may ride forever ‘neath the streets of Boston, he’s the man who never returned. Would I ever return? As I hummed the song, trying to remember the gist of it, the outdoor scene transitioned from urban to woodlands. The Massachusetts hills were glowing gold; no need to go to New Hampshire for fall color. Stay home! Signs for Foxboro caught my attention; ah yes, Gillette Stadium is there; home of the New England Patriots; tucked halfway between Boston and Providence. I drove through the community of restaurants and shops built just for sports fans, glad it was a no-game day; the stadium seats 68,756. Twenty miles more to Rhode Island, The Ocean State, according to the welcome sign. “I’m stopping at the capitol,” I said to the cats. And that’s where I met Charlene and Evelyn, and learned some things about Providence. » read more