By Brendan Peterman
Lindenwald Ledger
Contributing Writer
Thursday, June 19, 2008
If there was a way to introduce one’s self through writing, it has to be by letting you know who I am, and giving you a little background. My title was more then just an eye catcher; it was more of a true statement.
My birth name is Brendan Peterman, however, around these parts, they call me “Boston.” I just moved here three months ago from that city. Culture shock is an understatement for how I feel, and it doesn’t take my accent to tell that I’m a tad out of place.
Now you might have read my first paragraph, and rolled your eyes. I’m sure you’re afraid that some “big city” guy is going to come roll over your River Valley.
Not true. Just because I’m out of place doesn’t mean I don’t like being here. As a matter of fact I love not moving a mile a minute. I’ve been doing that for 26 years and I’ve got to say this area has a nice pace. I even love the chili, which back home, I never had a taste for. Then again maybe I never stopped to enjoy it.
It’s nice to finally meet nice people. I never knew they existed till now. Boston had a way of moving so fast that you didn’t have time to be nice. Well, unless there was a huge Sporting Event, then every one was nice. However looking back, everyone was drunk, so maybe that shouldn’t count. Either way all the people here that are positive, I promise, it’s starting to rub off on me.
Speaking of sports, I do feel for you. The local teams remind me of a time not so long ago when Boston’s teams were horrible. Back in 1999, the Red Sox still stunk, the Celtics hadn’t won a Championship in 14 years, and the Patriots and Bruins were just run of the mill teams.
Ten years can make a huge difference. Well that, and new ownerships, but seriously, keep your heads up. I see hope in the form of Jay Bruce, and Carson Palmer.
There are just a few things that I truly don’t understand. Like if I went back to Boston and wanted to play Cornhole. Let’s just say a good night of fun, and entertainment wouldn’t be had.
To the guy that cut me off on the road the other day, I used my HORN to let you know that you had made a boneheaded move. You looked puzzled, and I wanted to clear that up for you.
My accent, though new and exciting to all of you, is not a reason for everyone to act like I starred in Good Will Hunting. If I had, believe me, I would have a better car, and would have blown a louder horn at the aforementioned idiot driver.
I am perplexed at the lack of public transportation. I always had access to the “T.” It’s a trolley like service that gets you from point A to point B in ten minutes. No matter where I was, I could be somewhere else in TEN minutes. Now I’m 30 minutes from everywhere, and I do lose sleep over this fact. I see Taxis every now and then, which is nice, however they’re driven by English speaking human beings. Weird.
I also had a conversation the other day about airports, and this state has like 20. In my world, there is only one, Logan, and I refuse to acknowledge anything else.
I am relieved that every guy here doesn’t look like they just stepped out of a salon, and they’re on their way back to the frat house. I also love the fact that every girl doesn’t look like she stepped out the latest fashion show in France. It seems much more real here — breathtaking to say the least.
My friend and I took my day off the other day to go shopping. We went to the Mills, Kenwood, Florence, Tri County, eh, I lost track. Finally we stopped and drank to make the headache go away. Anytime I previously went shopping I walked down Bolyston St. That’s it, everything I could ever need was right there. Oh, and Wal-Mart doesn’t have markets back east. My sister had to use smelling salts to wake me up after I passed out at the spectacle.
Seriously, I love it here. The people are great, everyone’s friendly, and I’m here to be with family and watch my niece and nephew grow up.
But can someone do me a favor? Give me a middle finger every once in awhile, that way I can close my eyes, and feel like I’m back home.