A sojourn in Massachusetts wouldn't be complete without spending some time in the Big Beanpot itself: the city of Boston. Since we drove into town with three kids, we of course had to take in some educational attractions. Our first stop was the Old State House---which perhaps should be called the Commonwealth House. It's been in operation since 1798, and some of the furniture from the early days is still on display here, although it's no longer in use.
Touring the House Of Representatives, one notes right away that Massachusetts is one place that still seems not to have heard of the oxymoronic 'Conservative Revolution'. The names and party affiliations of delegates are listed on the wall; and there was only a pitiful handful of Republicans down at the bottom of one column, overwhelmed by an army of Democrats.
Despite a reputation for retrograde policies and bluenose attitudes dating back to Puritan days (the expression 'banned in Boston' has become a permanent fixture of the popular lexicon, probably more for its alliterative mnemonic appeal than its pertinence), the state has been, for at least a century and a half, in the vanguard of progressivism. Back in 1858, for instance, Judge Edward Greely Loring was REMOVED FROM OFFICE for ruling that an escaped slave must be returned to his master. (His trial took place in what is now the Senate Chamber, but formerly was occupied by the House Of Representatives for about a century.)
And you also notice the fish. Specifically, the cod. It's mounted on a plaque just above your head as you walk into the chamber. I don't know if the expression 'holy mackerel' originated here, but these lawmakers take their 'holy cod' rather seriously. Ever since a local merchant many generations ago presented the taxidermist trophy to the legislature as a token of the fishing industry's contribution to the area's economy, it has been the governing body's official good luck emblem. Back in 1933, a group of students from that notorious gadfly brigade Harvard Lampoon 'cod-napped' the prize, and the House would not carry on with its business until it was returned safe and sound.
Another very interesting fact we learned is that the legislature seriously considers ideas for new bills that are submitted by schoolchildren. This seems to me an excellent way not only to get young people involved in civics but also to actually obtain some constructive laws. When I compare the notions that kids have about how the country should be run to some of the policies concocted by representatives in state and national capitals, I can't help concluding that kids tend to be more in tune to what the world needs than most adults do---or at least those adults who often run the show. But I digress, which heaven knows I've never done before.
The next stop on our itinerary was supposed to be The USS Constitution, aka Old Ironsides, which is docked in Boston Harbor and open to tours. But it's open to tours only if you're able to find parking anywhere in this galaxy, which we were unable to do on this particular day. So we just settled for a drive-by sighting, and went on to the next alternative. We also passed by a museum dedicated to the Boston Tea Party, which still has not reopened after being closed for renovation.
We settled on a return to the Museum Of Science, which we'd all visited last year. In fact, since I'd been to so many science museums, including this one, I decided to abandon the rest of the party and take a walking tour of the streets of Boston.
The museum was not far from Charles Street, which reminded me somewhat of modern-day Haight Street in San Francisco, with its casual blend of bohemians, yuppies and scruffies, and its trendy shops designed to snag tourists. One big difference, however, was that streets seemed rather narrower, and there was an abundance of brick. Brick buildings, brick streets, brick everything. In fact, I've noticed that the entire city is a mason's paradise, and I don't remember seeing any other city whose brick content is comparable.
Then I returned to the museum and prepared for a long night. You see, we had a particular reason for coming here at this time. There is an observatory on the roof, and Mars had just about reached its closest point to Earth on this day, and we'd been hoping for a good opportunity to examine it before it started making its gradual retreat. Well, the Museum Of Science happens to have an observatory on the roof, and on this night they were keeping it open for viewings of the Red Planet, long after the museum had closed.
So we all made our way to the upper level of the parking garage to get in line. And quite a line it was, even though we were getting there at what we thought was an early hour. We were in the queue for about an hour and a half in the chilly autumn air of New England, waiting our turn to glance through the telescope for only a few seconds. But we didn't mind, because we knew it would be at least 50,000 years before we had this chance again, and our eyesight might be failing a bit by then. Besides, it was a starry night over the Boston skyline, and the kids kept everyone thoroughly entertained.
And the brief glimpse of Mars itself was, I think, well worth the wait. The view wasn't really distinctive; essentially it was just a yellowish ball in the sky, with a polar icecap barely detectable up North, and an extremely faint hourglass marking down the middle. They were details so ghostly as to make you almost think you'd imagined them, details such as probably would not be captured by even the most powerful camera. But there she was. Years from now, we won't remember the lengthy wait in the cold-just that once-in-a-lifetime sight of Mars grandstanding.
The last time it came this close, there was no civilization, nor even any humanity as we know it. Maybe there won't be the next time, either. Most likely, the city will be entirely vanished, as will the arbitrary boundaries that designate what is now Massachusetts. The tea will be long gone form the harbor, Bunker Hill may be flat, the twisted addiction to coercive conformity that produces blue laws and witch-hunts will be (one hopes) long purged from the human psyche, and hundreds more petty dictators who tried to remake the world in their own image will be nothing but dust. Maybe even Bill Buckner's error will be forgotten.
As Mars, a planet named for a very destructive god, recedes back into its usual heavenly path, we are reminded that the next 500 centuries may pass more quickly than we expect. But for now, there are brick streets and elegant monuments in this fabulous place called Boston.