A Saturday morning walk in the park and through Beacon Hill
Friday was exhausting. After a long day attending sessions, blogging and meeting folks with portfolios, I attended a reception and then went out for dinner and drinks.
I ended up around 3:30 a.m., reviewing a sophomore design portfolio — a pretty good one, too. I’ll be keeping an eye on her work over the next few semesters.
Despite this, I really wanted to see a slice of Boston. I also wanted an alternative for breakfast. And I wanted to see a little sunshine after several cloudy, rainy Boston days.
So Saturday, I set my alarm clock for 6 a.m. and I went out for a morning stroll.
I walked north of the hotel, to the Boston Public Garden. The park was beautiful.

The water was beautiful.

The girls in the park were beautiful.

Oh, wait! That’s Julie Elman, a professor at Ohio University! Not only is she beautiful, the page one work she did for us at The Virginian-Pilot is some of the most beautiful you’ll ever see.
Julie tells me she was talking to her mom. I know how she felt. I had difficulty getting a cell phone signal in the hotel, for some reason. I, too, went across the street to the park to call home.

The Public Garden is famous for its ducks and swans. They paddled around in the chilly water, hoping I’d toss in some quackers.


On the far side of the park is this wonderful bronze sculpture. The work commemorates the noted children’s book Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey.

Mama duck sits on a slight rise, overlooking the duck pond.

The baby ducks tag along behind. I figured these would be actual size, but they turned out to be about three times the size of real ducks. I realize, now, that actual size statues would be tiny.

I also watched kids as they walked up to the art. They felt compelled to pat each little duckling on its head. Very amusing to watch. I would have shot photos, but I didn’t want to creep out all the parents.

In fact, the sculpture celebrated its 20th birthday just the week before, according to The Beacon Hill Times. The sculptor herself — Nancy Schon, at the far right of the photo — attended the party.

Exiting the park’s north end, I came to the intersection of Charles and Beacon streets. The architecture was beautiful. And there were hardly any cars out to hamper picture-taking, that early in the morning.
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I saw nowhere to eat breakfast, however. So I decided to continue north, up Charles Street, into the ultra-trendy Beacon Hill. Surely there, I figured, I could find something to eat.
This beautiful market was open, however:

It looked just like something out of a movie.

I continued up Charles Street until I came to the Charles Street Meeting House.

It was on my way back down Charles when I finally spotted it: A terrific breakfast place — The Paramount.


It was a very small, very quirky little place. They had this big sign on the wall, explaining why they didn’t want you to save a seat. Get in line first, order your food and then grab a seat. That’s how you keep from running out of seats, they said.

And damned if it didn’t work. The place was packed. But when I got my food — voilá — a table came open.
Brekfast was grilled the old-fashioned, mom-and-pop way.

Very, very cool place.

Once my early morning hunger was defeated, I had the urge to jump back into blogging and talking careers. So I walked back to the hotel.
One block away, however, I came across this interesting building just across the street from the Park Plaza: An interesting lingerie shop.

What’s so interesting about that? Well, to be honest, it was this little number that really caught my eye:

What the hell is that supposed to be? Is that, in some way, even halfway functional? It looked something straight out of Barbarella.
By 9 a.m., I had retrieved my computer and was setting up at blog central, preparing to begin the day’s posts.
I’m sorry I didn’t post my little travelogue earlier. But, like I wrote last night, I don’t regret it. We had a ball Saturday and Sunday.
October 15th, 2007 at 1:09 pm
SND Blog
Thursday night: Drag sorry ass home after long day of hauling news for the man.
Friday morning: Wake up to the echoes of an empty house and the smell of dog. Guess the family has gone off to school. Check clock. They left the house two hours ago. The dog decided to keep me warm. Now I have dog hair up my nose.
Decide to check out the breakfast bar in Chez Page. Steak and eggs sounds good but settle for leftover lukewarm coffee and a half-eaten Pop-tart.
Noon: Shower. Walk dog. Try to find anything edible to pack for lunch. Find a can of tuna, wilted lettuce and a bruised tomato.
2pm: En route to office. Someone says something clever on the radio. By the time I get to work, I can’t remember what they said or what it is about.
3pm: Get to work. Sigh. Discover everything I did yesterday was wrong. At least I spelled my name correctly on my timecard. Desk is piled with work to do and other people’s debris — coffee cups, water bottles and newspapers. The network is down, and no one can remember where any of the photographers went.
Midnight: An hour to deadline. Steal 15 minutes to check out the stuff on the web from the SND annual convention in Boston. I learn the following:
Everything new is old.
Everything old is new.
Person giving seminar is a ROCK STAR!!!!
(insert name of typeface) really stinks and anyone using it should consider another profession.
And, I’m too old to know anything cool.
And one job listing:
WANTED: Humble design genius. Work for one of the world’s best-known (and quasi-modest) design Gods. Must have college degree. Must have superb copy editing skills. Must be willing to submit to drug testing and indentured servitude.
Must know Acrobat, Photoshop, Illustrator, Freehand, MacDraw, MacWrite, Word, Excel, Powerpoint, Aperture, Bridge, Imageready, Paint, Corel Draw, Premiere, Final Cut, Final Cut Pro, Indesign, QuarkXpress, Photo Mechanic, Flash, Harris Boombox, CCI, html, xtml, C, C+, C++, UNIX, ftp, FTD, UPS, FedEx, and WTF. We might be using some of that stuff in the future, but right now we work on Etch-A-Sketches interfaced with a Nintendo server.
Please send cover letter, resume, a portfolio we will never return, and at least $100 in cash to:…
SATURDAY evening: Steal a moments to see what is new at the SND convention. Nothing is updated ‘cause the awards banquet is going on.
I imagine the dinner is like a meeting Water Buffalo Lodge on the Flintstones — an evening filled with secret handshakes and passwords and fur-covered hats with horns.
The meal consists of large slabs of beef, huge hunks of fish flesh, and copious amounts of alcohol.
Anyone caught revealing the secrets of the lodge will be shunned and sent to Siberia to manage visuals for a gulag newspaper.
SUNDAY: Driving home after 1am listening the ALCS on the radio. The tension at Fenway Park seems pretty high as the game extends to extra innings.
The Indians’ relief pitcher faces the heart of the Red Sox lineup in the bottom of the tenth, and smokes ‘em.
And then, in the top of the 11th inning, the Tribe break the game wide open, scoring 7 runs. Get home, and figure I can watch the last couple of outs on TV, but after unloading my stuff, opening the door, and finally finding the remote, which took up residence under a sofa cushion, I turn the game on to discover it is over.
At least it won’t take me two days to recover from a post-SND hangover.