Massachusetts Holiday

On Thursday I took my first American train ride, or at least the first one I remember. I think I recall my parents saying they took me on the train as a baby, but it doesn't count unless you get your own seat and are drooling on yourself instead of your mother while you sleep.

I Amtraked it to Springfield, Mass. to see one of my favorite aunts, my father's sister Mary Margaret. As the baby of 9 children, my dad ended up more than a little spoiled. Some hypothesize that it was due to the fact that his mother was too plain tired (after having him at age 44) to not give him everything he wanted. Some claim that he was so strikingly cute as a child that nobody could refuse him. And while after seeing childhood photos of my Dad I can vouch for the undeinable cuteness, a weekend with Mimi proved that she and her sister were the Steve Spoilers.

Side note: If you've never met a M*Inerny, it's likely that you've never had wait on them. I rag on my Dad for his helplessness but in actuality we're all like him. We won't ask big favors of people, but we're unable to commit to small tasks. Mary Margaret says her husband Pat poaches her eggs every Sunday after mass, and whether they admit it or not, it's true of all of my siblings and myself that if we are already sitting down or out of arm's reach of something, we'll ask someone else to get it. So if you don't want to grab four glasses of water for us, don't walk into the TV room at 53rd and Humboldt during the Simpsons.

Staying with Mimi and her husband Pat for a weekend is like having a VIP pass to the M*Inerny lifestyle. You get great magazines to read, plenty of hot coffee in the morning, slices of fresh banana bread, naps, your own little guest room with towels laid out for you, plenty of conversation, and no time to get hungry before the next meal is served.

Mimi and Pat's beautiful daughter Patty came over on Friday with her adorable children: the beautiful and talkative Grace:

And the sweetest little boy since my brother Patrick, determined little Owen:

In one of those, "oh this is neat" moments of life, Pat and Mimi took me to the Spingfield Quadrangle, where there is a permanent exhibit celebrating hometown boy Dr. Seuss, including a large sculpture of his famous book, Oh, The Places You'll Go, which was weird because Ryan.
had just blogged about Dr Seuss. See? Life IS neat.

I also spotted my favorite Dr. Seuss character of all time, The Lorax:

I know, it's not like me to adore a tree-hugging shorty with a flowing beard.

I arrived back in NYC on Saturday morning, to find that all of the subways were in chaos. The R became the F, the F was still the F, the N didn't exist between 42nd and 59th Street, and the E became the R. Every MTA employee had a completely different idea of which trains were and weren't running, and which stops would and would not be made. I felt like I was trapped in a tunnel of lies. It took 5 different trains to get back home, and I only made it back because I shouted in exasperation, "I just want to go home, but it's too hard!" Which prompted an MTA worker to pinky swear to me that the next train that came would indeed take me to my stop. He was right. Finally.