Family Ties

It has been almost a month since I took the cap off my pen to write. It has been a tough time for me since my father died on May 19th. So last week, I decided to take a break and spend time wandering around the streets of Boston. My much needed vacation took me to many historic sites including graveyards in the Boston area. Among those I visited was Old Granary Burying Ground, where Franklin’s parents are buried. While in Bean Town I also found my way to the Charlestown Navy Yard, where my old friend William Bainbridge worked and where the ship he commanded, Old Ironsides, now resides. As I walked around the USS Constitution Museum I found that Isaac Hull was frequently mentioned. Looking at the displays, I blurted out to myself and whoever else was near that Hull was buried in our burial ground for a few weeks before he was reinterred at Laurel Hill. My sorrow- filled mind opened up again and I was back in business for some inspiration. I could suddenly hear a new tour being sewn together inside my mind. 

It was nice to take time to do nothing but blow around town like an empty potato chip bag dancing in the wind. I found myself on Breeds Hill/Bunker Hill where my pen really began to sing. It’s a good thing too because our holiday Signers’ Day is coming up on July 3rd and until now I had not thought about my speech. 

After leaving Charlestown, I made my way to 21 Milk Street and visited the spot where Ben Franklin was born and spent his early life. It is now occupied by a modern building and seemed to be unmarked as to its importance until I looked up and saw a bust of Franklin and words in marble indicating this site as the birthplace of Ben. I left a holly leaf from the tree near Ben Franklin’s grave on the ground where he took his first breaths and learned how to walk and talk. I was smiling like a goofball as I stood there in awe. Then, I left Milk Street and went to a game at historic Fenway Park. 

On my train ride home to Philadelphia, I reflected on my trip and opened up my notebook and began to write my Signers’ Day speech. Thinking of my dad, I scratched out a few lines about remembrance and the speech just came together. I was now ready for Welcome America Festival and the busy week ahead in Philadelphia. 

When I return to Philly I made a quick stop at the burial ground and in a sentimental gesture, I took a pinch of dirt that I had collected from Ben’s parents grave and placed it on his. As I was standing there, I heard a child’s voice saying, “What is he doing?” I lifted my head and saw that the boy and his family wearing Boston Red Sox hats. I smiled and looked up to the sky knowing the Franklin’s approved. It’s all about family, and I was happy to be back in the burial ground with mine. 

-Hop