A Boston-baked redneck
Note: Fenway Park in Boston is now 100 years old. This is a piece I wrote some time ago about my visit there.
In 1991, my job had taken me to temporary quarters in a company-owned gray stone apartment in the historic Back Bay of Boston, Mass. I might as well have landed on Mars.
Before I went there, what I knew about New England couldn’t fill a crawdad hole. This was the home of Harvard, MIT, the Charles River, John, Bobby and Teddy Kennedy, for gosh sakes. I was about as far out of my element as any Southern boy could be.