Boston Strong

In 1897, just one year after the success of the first ever modern day marathon, they held the inaugural Boston Marathon. Ever since then, the 3^rd Monday in April has been as special one for the entire area. Since its inception, the race has coincided with Patriots Day, a huge state wide holiday. Now, I had always heard about Patriots Day, a day set aside to honor the Revolutionary War battles of Lexington and Concord. I knew what it was. At least, I thought I did. I just never realized what it was actually like.

The Woodman family name is an old and established one in that part of the country. In the early 1600s, one particular Woodman, Edward, sailed from England to the colonies to help establish a new town in Massachusetts. 

For generations since that Woodman's arrival, and others as well, the family name has grown throughout New England. There are Woodman's all over. One of the family's claims to fame is the invention of the fried clam. People drive for miles in the New England area to make a pilgrimage to Woodman's and enjoy fried clams made from the family's original recipe. Three and a half centuries after Edward Woodman came to Massachusetts, his 10^th great-grandson (me) was also born in the area, in nearby Connecticut. Three years later, my dad took a job in St. Louis, and just like that, my days as a New Englander were over. Fate had decided that I would grow up as a Midwesterner, instead.

My sister Kelly is a running machine. She always has been. I'm not totally sure, but if someone told me she's was part robot at this point, I would probably believe them. Marathons for her? “Whatever.” Iron Man Triathlons? “No biggie.” Oh while you're at it, go ahead and pop out a litter of kids in-between races... “What else you got?” 26.2 miles to Kelly is like .2 miles to the rest of us mortals. Second nature. Dare I say, easy. So, it came as a surprise to no one, when she announced she would once again be one of the 30,000 participants in the Boston Marathon. Her third straight year running the race. No sweat.

What a difference 30 years makes.

After moving to Missouri, we visited our family back East sporadically. My Dad's only brother and his wife lived in Massachusetts. I remember when each of my two younger cousins were little. We saw them a few times, as kids. But, now, as an adult, I had only been back twice. Both times for each of my Grandmothers' funerals. Both visits were brief. I hadn't kept up with my East Coast family at all. Not really, anyways. An email from a cousin, here, a Christmas letter from my Aunt, there. I knew what everyone was up to. But that was about it. My only two cousins were adults now. They were both married and had started their own families. And I hadn't spent any real time with any of them in over 30 years. This year it would be different. This trip would remedy that.

To say that Boston embraces the marathon and Patriots Day is a vast understatement. We were not prepared for the amount of love that flowed from spectators that day. The race is a point-to-point one, meaning it has 26 miles to wind through the entire city. And all along the route, some 500,000 people cheered the runners on. Half a million. Picture that many people. The Boston Marathon ranks behind only the Super Bowl as the largest single day sporting event in the world. And these fans weren't just casually standing around, or using the day as an excuse to hang out and drink on a Monday. No. They were fully vested in the race. Cheering everyone on. Really cheering. Everyone. From the very beginning, when the elite leaders ran by (whose names and splits they all knew) all the way until the back of the pack passed hours later. People genuinely cheered. They shouted out people's names as they ran past (many runners wrote their own names on themselves somewhere.) Like real fans. “Go Jerry!” “You rock, Alice!” The entire time. They cheered. For runners. It was so great. So unreal. Boston loved this race. It was their race. And they showed it.

My cousin Christine and her husband Saul graciously offered their house up to us, for our visit. Offered is the wrong word. Insisted is more accurate. "OK...but our gang can be a handful,” I warned. With Kelly and her oldest son (Sebastian) staying there too, they assured us, “We'll make it work.” Right from the beginning, they did so much more than that. Saul, my newly-met cousin-in-law (is that what you call them?) treated us like we were guests on the Promenade Deck, and he was our cruise director. The slightest bit hungry? Here's some amazingly delicious food Saul just showed up with. Not hungry at all? Here's a box of mouth-watering cannolis that Saul ran out and grabbed. Totally stuffed? You can't be. There's more coming. More different kinds of local beer. More desserts from other bakeries. More. More. More. We wanted for nothing. Saul was our own personal concierge. “You need to go to this place,” he instructed. “And when you do, you gotta eat this.” So we did. We listened. We followed his advice. And we all left with our pants a little tighter.

Kelly struggled in this race. And when I say she struggled, I'm using that term loosely. Struggled by her robot-humanoid standards. Not by any sane person's standards. She hadn't trained at all. (Who does that?) And I mean not at all. A couple of injuries had kept her from running even once, leading up to the race. “Hopefully I won't have to walk the whole way.” she declared. She didn't. Even being unprepared, was only a slight challenge for her. Her body still knew what to do. Maybe her battery backup finally kicked in. But she willed herself on.

There was no struggle for us and my cousins. Everything came easy. Right from the start, it felt like we had known one another always. We had, I guess...technically...known them that long. Just with big gaps in between. But the gaps didn't show. Ever. When my other cousin Emily and her family joined in, nothing skipped a beat. It felt like all we did was hang out and shoot the breeze, pretty much our entire stay. There was no awkwardness. No disinterest. We all clicked. Like a real family does, I guess. Except, we hadn't spent enough time with them yet to have all the stupid baggage that normally gets in the way with families. No, with us, it was just the good stuff. We laughed. We told stories. Some old ones. Some new ones. We discovered shared familial characteristics (like our Grandmother's snore!) It was more than we had hoped for. It was perfect.

We know about them now.

Even better than hitting it off with my cousins, was watching the girls get to know their second cousins. Their connections were immediate and real and pure. They played a lot. They laughed even more. They had "sleepovers." They cried when it was time to leave. At one point Nina exclaimed joyfully, “It's like we had this whole other family that we never knew about.”

 

When Kelly stopped and chatted with us at our spot around mile 18, she seemed to be in an upbeat mood. After all, she was running in the greatest road race in America, and she got to share it with her family. She didn't seem to mind that her quads were killing her. She didn't seem to care that she had to walk as much as she did. I have to imagine that just competing in that event is an amazing experience. Every time she did it. Half a million screaming fans. That would never get old. Kelly finished the race in 4:34:22. Not a great time by her (own insane) standards. Parts of her ached, and other parts flat out hurt, but her body willed her on. She endured. She ran well. It shouldn't have surprised anyone. She was a runner, after all. She has been forever.

The day we left Boston, I found myself trying to make sense of what had happened. Why was I feeling so euphoric? This had been the first time, as an adult, that I had hung out with my family like this. Not counting my parents. Not counting my in-laws. Not counting my litter of kids. The rest of the people I shared my DNA with. The East Coast Woodman's. I hadn't had any real connection with any of them at all. Up until now. Yet, somehow we were still connected. We had a commonality. That thing you share with people you are related to. That thing that makes you alike. Your genetics. You souls. Your being. Whatever it was. It was there. Here was this bond that I had discovered, that I didn't even know I was missing. We all melded together seamlessly. Perfectly. I don't know why it surprised me. It shouldn't have. We were a family, after all. We have been forever.

"That whole other family" (L-R) Joey, Nina, Nadia, Sebastian, Jaxon, Zara, Norah, Georgia

Start Spreading the News

“You Nork City!” a much younger Norah once called it. You Nork. A place so big, so important, that toddlers mispronounced it before they really even knew what it was. By now, our kids could pronounce it. They were older and wiser, and knew what NYC was all about. Or so they thought. Buildings that loomed overhead. Mobs of people. A colossal-sized city. Actually, to even call it a city, felt somewhat like a slight. It was more than just some big metropolis. So much more.

We wanted to be a part of it New York, New York

If we could make it here, We'd make it anywhere

We only had a few days to conquer what we could in the Big Apple. Barely enough time. We would have to have a plan. The crowds. The traffic. Both the hustle and the bustle. We couldn't roll in like a bunch of small town gawkers. We'd be ready for it.

As first time tourists to You Nork, we had a lot of apprehensions. Where would we stay? What about our car? How were we gonna get around? How could we afford to do anything? Not to mention, we had to make sure everyone had the full “New York City experience.”


There seemed to be only one logical conclusion. In order to not merely survive, but flourish in the Big City, we would have to think and act like New Yorkers. Not tourists. Locals.
We would stay right in the middle of Manhattan. Of course.
We'd stash our car in a garage. Who needs a car?
And we'd walk and take public transit everywhere. Obviously.
And do it all on a budget. No problem.

After a little bit of research, we scored the perfect hotel for us, right in the heart of Midtown. The Deauville Hotel, a cute little brownstone building, that overflowed with charm was a great fit. Besides being centrally located, we had a two room suite, and even an elevator operator to take us up and down. All this, without having to take out a second mortgage on our house. 

Right through the very heart of it New York, New York

Add in the great views of the Empire State building out our hotel windows, and city noises playing in the background, like a setting on a sound machine, and we were ready.

Bring it on You Nork.



Now that our home base was set, it was time to hit the pavement. First, though, the obligatory “big city walking” speech. Manhattan was no joke. It was one crazy anthill.




“Pay attention.”
“Watch where you're going.”
“Especially at crosswalks.”
“Stay with us. Don't dawdle.”


..was what I thought we said. Apparently, to them, it must have sounded more like:

         “Pay attention only to the food carts”
         “Bump into people, a lot”
         “Invent elaborate hopscotch games at every crosswalk.”
         “Be either a half block ahead of me or a full block behind me at all times.”

Our vagabond shoes were longing to stray

Right away, instead of being awestruck tourists, who stared up at skyscrapers, and walked into traffic, the girls acted as they always did. Like crazy monkeys. Undeterred. Unburdened. At ease. Even on the subway, they were pros. Always standing. Holding the poles. Never sitting. So it “felt more like riding the subway.”


As the day turned to night, we headed over to Times Square. “Which is not square shaped at all”, the kids reminded us. Triangle shaped, quite clearly. The bright lights and Godzilla-sized screens were mesmerizing. A trip to both the M&M store and Disney store sealed the deal. Times Square was a hit.

We wanted to wake up in a city that didn't sleep

The one thing we unanimously agreed on before this trip even began, was a visit to the Statue of Liberty. In the Hall of Fame of American landmarks, she's a charter member. It is the definition of iconic. We had to go. And go up it.

We were king of the hill, top of the heap

This one took a little more planning than we thought. You see, there are varying levels of tickets available for the statue. You can just take the scenic boat ride out to the island and walk the grounds. Which, just by itself, was worth it. To see the city from the harbor should be mandatory for all visitors. If you're a little more adventurous, you can climb up to the top of the pedestal. Which doesn't sound all that much better, but it was. The pedestal is no insignificant part of the monument. It stands just as tall as the statue, and the climb up the nearly 200 stairs was no small feat. The views from there were glorious. For the truly bold, there was the highest ticket choice. The crown. All we had to do was climb up an additional set of spiral stairs all the way to the top. That is, providing we made those reservations 6 months ago (we hadn't). And our party was 4 people or less (we weren't). And everyone was tall enough to do so (not quite). So we “settled” for the pedestal. Which was still super cool, and didn't feel at all like settling. Lady Liberty was amazing. And beautiful. And everything we hoped it would be, and more. The up close views of her gave us a whole new perspective of her magnificence.
Stunning. Sublime. A must do. Just plan way ahead.
==============
As the sun set on our second day, we hoofed it on over to yet another New York favorite: the Brooklyn Bridge. Spanning the East river, and connecting the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn, this 130 year old bridge amazed us once again. With cars driving below on a separate level, a pedestrian walkway made it possible to traverse the structure.

We made a brand new start of it, in old New York

Mind you, this walkway was no tourist attraction afterthought. No. Every day over 4,000 pedestrians and 3,000 cyclists cross the 1,500 foot span. Most of them commuters. As we sauntered across, gazing at the brilliant views of the city at sunset, dozens and dozens of people sped by on their way home from work. We admired the views, while they simply crossed.

======================



“Hey kiddos, it's our last day here, how about we go to Central Park?”
                 “I dunno. What's it like there? Are there any playgrounds?”
“Let's see...there's over 20”
                 “20 different playgrounds?... Can we go to all of them?”
“I really doubt it.”
                 “OK... how about we just go to ALMOST all of them?”
"I don't think you understand how negotiating works."

Central Park was yet another gem. A stunning oasis amidst the insanity. The playgrounds themselves would've been enough. But add in the lakes, an abundance of trails, interesting topography, and even a castle, and it was clear to us why New Yorkers revered this place. We could have spent a whole week just exploring it. Instead, we hit the playgrounds we thought looked the coolest.


An ancient Egyptian themed one? You bet.
A wild west inspired one? OK.

A safari playground with sculptures from St. Louis' own legendary Bob Cassily?
Ummm... of course.

The weather was perfect, and that glorious day in Central Park was one we will always remember.


In just 3 short days, we did it. We managed to squeeze in so much. We did so much. We walked. We ate from street vendors. We took impromptu juggling lessons. We saw so much. Street performers. Subway performers. Overly-aggressive pan-handling mascots. We heard so much. Honking cabbies. Dozens of different dialects. Crazed people swearing at each other in the streets. We even smelled so much. Bad smells. Worse smells. Unidentifiable smells. Yup, we were big city folks. Or at least, we were good at pretending to be. The megalopolis had not swallowed us up at all. Surprisingly, we fit right in.

Our little town blues melted away

“St. Louis is going to seem so small when we get home.”
“So tiny.”
“So lame.” they all said in a condescending way.


They were already beginning to sound like New Yorkers.

Slowly I Turned

We needed to take another big road trip. A good, long one. A couple of weeks, with lots of stops. It had been a while. Too long, by our standards, certainly. But, life got in the way. Our days always seemed to be full. Chauffeuring the kids around. Working on the house. The pets. The this. The that. The everything. And before you knew it, a year had gone by. Then two. We really needed to take another trip.

What we really lacked was a reason. We needed some inspiration. A nudge. Then my sister (who lives in Alaska) gave us just the excuse. For the 3^rd year in a row, she was going to run in the Boston Marathon. And while in Massachusetts, she was again, going to stay with our East Coast family. “This year, you guys need to come.” she said. Then my Boston cousin confirmed, “You're all staying with us.”

Sure. Why not? We'll head east. All new places for Jenny and the girls to see. Plus, an opportunity for Clark to hang out with his family that he hadn't seen in forever. It sounded great. But, what else? We needed more. Boston is a pretty decent drive from St Louis. There's plenty to see along the way. The East coast is rife with opportunities.

So it was opened up for discussion.
                              “Where else does everyone want to go, besides Boston...?”
“New York City?”

                              “Definitely!”

“Pennsylvania?”
                              “Sure.”
“Connecticut?”
                              “Maybe...”
“Can we see how long it takes to drive across Rhode Island?”
                              “We'll see...”
“Niagara Falls?”
                         
“NIAGARA FALLS!!!”

Slowly I turned...

So, it was set. Our next adventure. First stop, the northwestern tip of upstate New York. We piled into 'Mia the Kia' (our recently named minivan) and headed out. Surprisingly, Niagara Falls is just a 12 hour drive from home. (Who knew?) And like a bunch of traveling pros, we got there in no time.

Now none of us had ever been to Niagara Falls before. Even though we all had our own idea of what we thought they would be like, we had no idea. It's funny how things are that way. The more we travel, the more we learn that. You just can't picture things until you've been there.
We arrived at a seasonal transition time. The extremely harsh northern winter was (mostly) gone. Preparations were being made everywhere for the upcoming tourist season. Spring was near. Or so we thought. When we got out of the car, it felt pretty brisk. Cold. We put on our coats, and headed straight to the overlook of the falls. The wind picked up the closer we got. Pretty darn chilly now. Gloves. Hats. Then as we walked up to get our first glimpse, the mist hit us. It was everywhere. And when the temperature is hovering around freezing, mist turns into, well, frozen mist, I guess. It was frigid. Biting. For a bunch of Mid-westerners, it was full on winter. ”Look there's an observation tower. It's inside, and has a great view!.. Just a quick walk over a little raised bridge.” Where the winds were even fiercer. Sub-Arctic. Top-of-Mount-Everest cold.

...step by step...

Twigs the Snowman

Niagara Falls was massive. We were seriously impressed. Cold be damned, their allure was unavoidable. They were literally awe-inspiring. I was inspired with awe. Now, they weren't massive in a tall way. They're kinda' short, really. (At least when compared to the rest of the world's largest waterfalls) They're survivable-if-you-go-over-them-in-a-barrel short, actually. And they weren't massive in that they stretched on and on. They are wide, for sure. Just not that wide. No, Niagara Falls are massive in a that's-a-crap-ton-of-water kind of way. With a world's best rate of 150,000 gal. per second flowing through them, the amount of water is super impressive. Indescribable. Until you see it.

In a master stroke of vacation pre-planning, our hotel was within earshot of the falls. We could hear them from our room. That night was filled with short walks back to the falls, snowball fights, and even snowman building. It was definitely still winter.


The next morning we did the one thing I would insist everyone does when they visit. The Maid of the Mist boat tour has been sailing to the base of the falls since before the Civil War. And for good reason. Armed with ponchos and anticipation, we boated right out to the base of both the American Falls, and eventually the Horseshoe Falls.






Seeing them from below was a whole other experience. The water. There was just so damn much of it. It was so amazing. So worth it.

That's some white noise machine.

...inch by inch...


After our journey below, we hiked across to Goat Island, in the middle of the falls, to finish up our stay. More views of the falls were to be had here, but again work was being done everywhere. Construction. Improvements. Maintenance. That much water has to do some damage, right? It does. Every year the falls erode 1 foot. If that amount seems high, it has actually been slowed down (thanks to engineering) from 3 feet per year. They say in 50,000 years, the falls won't even be there anymore. So, if you haven't been, hurry up and get there while you can.

And take the boat tour.

In the summer.


For now, so long Niagara Falls.

NIAGARA FALLS!!!

Slowly I turned...