Sunday, December 20, 2009
Taking the Green Line to Somerville
To someone in Dorchester, Somerville seems a lot like the Dot. A city of three decked homes, one after another, lacking a sterling reputation. The way people call Dorchester 'Poor-chester;' people call Somerville, 'Slum-erville.' Despite what the rhyming slanderers have to say, Dorchester is a magnificent place, why not Somerville?
Why not, indeed? I'm sure it is magnificent. I daydream about Somerville now, waiting for spring. In spring, a man's fancy turns toward Somerville. I've heard palaver about it at the Harp and Bard on April evenings when the moon is full. A carpenter will be talking to a bricklayer and they'll reach a spontaneous conclusion to head over to Somerville, "to see what fish might be biting."
It's very snowy today so I don't think I'll be heading over to Somerville this evening. I will probably wait until the crocuses start poking up their heads. By then, God willing, the Green Line Extension will be completed and I will get to Ball Square entirely by train.