A handful of history.

July 10, Hudson.

A rare day off and we're off to downtown Boston, Fridman to see the trove of historical places, I to reminisce on a visit to the same places a quarter of a century ago, or so it seems, as a student making my way around the country checking out arts museum for a dissertation in U.S. civilization.
I remember a quiet place, wandering the streets; we walked for hours amid the bustling of the downtown commerce, the only quiet place the cemetery at Copp's Hill I wanted to see for having missed it back then, Cotton Mather's tomb, all the Puritan figures I had eagerly read about in my history classes, and loved. The kids trudged along courageously, largely ignorant of what all these boring buildings and plaques mean, asking for something fun, finally getting ice-cream.
They'll remember some of it I hope, however vaguely, when they get to study American history and it all starts making sense.