The Unhappy Rich People of Harvard Square

Today I took the commuter rail to Singing Beach, my favorite beach in Massachusetts. Even when it is hot and a little crowded, like today, I still love it. I body surf and play in the waves and most of the grown-ups look on, befuddled, but a little girl being held by her grandma laughs joyously every time I dive into the surf, so I know I am on the right track. One man my age watches me dive in over and over again, and finally, tentatively, dives into the waves along with his 10 year old daughter. When he surfaces he looks really surprised, like, "Wow, what did I just do?" and almost immediately heads to shore. Oh well. Maybe next time he'll do it again. And again and again and again. And finally have some real FUN in his life.

On the way back I had a nice long chat with a Swiss boy, I'll call him Emil. He had been biking to the beach with his Mom and older sister. He thought the sand was too hot. He said he didn't have enough toys with him. We discussed ways to make a bike-friendly beach umbrella that would dismantle to a size of about 16 inches by 6 inches, perfect for a bike rack. And I told him how a small shovel and small ruler are all you need to make a sand pyramid on the beach.

Then we talked about witches in Salem (Emil hoped that none would get on the train at Salem--I assured him all the people looked like tourists, not witches,unfortunately), UFOs (my daughter saw one once, hovering over her and a younger friend, in Quebec--maybe THAT explains everything!), snakes and how fast they can slither away and how they tend to eat things much larger than they are, and the alligator that came pretty darn close to eating a teenager in Sanibel Island, Florida until I yelled at the teen to quit bugging the poor beast. Emil told me about his two cats, and how one had run away, and then about the rat which took residence in their home and ate their potatoes. I thought this was very funny, the idea of a rat hunkering down behind the cupboard to munch on potatoes. His mother, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed. She said the rat ate the pumpkin too.

So for 40 minutes Emil and I had a most entertaining and fun time. Then we got off in Boston and said our good-byes, and I headed to Harvard Square, happy and full of sun and sand and salt and stories.

But arriving at Harvard Square...My God!!! It was even worse today than yesterday. WHY is everyone SO unhappy? Come ON people!!! If you are so bored in Harvard Square, go to the beach! Or take a trip to Vermont, Maine, NH, Canada, anywhere!!! But WHY hang around Harvard Square in a foul sour mood, grimacing and snarling at everyone you pass? Did someone designate H Square the "Nasty Mood Depot" or something?

On top of that, Peter the robotic Russian guitarist was playing. I really really hate his playing. A young know-it-all tried to educate me recently about my lack of openness and how I could really ENJOY Peter's robotic elevator music if I just opened my heart. I told him, "Nope, no way. This guy's music is totally repressed rage and sadness and it drives me nuts and I hate it with a passion." The young know-it-all suggested I TELL Peter how I feel. Hah!!! Peter feels he is at war with the world. Generally I never tell a musician I think their music sucks, and I'm definitely NOT going to make an exception with him. Too dangerous.

So I hung around, listening to my own music, earplugs in, read the paper, watched the shenanigans of Sam, high again, yelling at people about how they are all being controlled (probably true, but people tend not to listen when they think you are crazy or high), watched how the cop did not mind the thug guy parking his car in a no-parking zone, even told the thug it was OK if just for a short time, even though the thug was there for about an hour, and I was reminded of Sam talking about the Russian mafia in Harvard Square and corrupt cops.

But as hard as I tried, I just found it harder and harder to hang onto the happiness I felt from body surfing at Singing Beach and discussing witches and snakes with Emil on the train home.

I once told someone, "I don't do drugs, but honestly, I think a dose of Ecstasy for everyone in Harvard Square might be a GREAT idea!" Or maybe just get everybody off their psych meds and see if anyone feels any better? I can see why Sam resorts to screaming. Harvard Square will do that to you.